85
Punch, or the London Charivari
Volume 107, August 25, 1894
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
TO A SURREY HOSTESS.
(A Parodic Vote of Thanks to a Town Matron,who took a House in the Country.)
Lady Clara Shere de Shere
,
Through me you now shall win renown;
It nearly broke my country heart
To come back to the dusty town.
In kindliest way, you bade me stay
And nothing better I desired,
But Duty with a great big D
Called far too loud, and I retired.
,
Through me you now shall win renown;
It nearly broke my country heart
To come back to the dusty town.
In kindliest way, you bade me stay
And nothing better I desired,
But Duty with a great big D
Called far too loud, and I retired.
Lady Clara Shere de Shere
I wonder if you'll like your name!
Oh! how you all began to chaff
And laugh the moment that I came.
Yet would I take more for the sake
Of your dear daughter's girlish charms.
A simple maiden not yet four
Is good to take up in one's arms.
I wonder if you'll like your name!
Oh! how you all began to chaff
And laugh the moment that I came.
Yet would I take more for the sake
Of your dear daughter's girlish charms.
A simple maiden not yet four
Is good to take up in one's arms.
Lady Clara Shere de Shere,
Some newer pupil you must find,
Who, when you pile his plate sky-high,
Will meekly say he does not mind.
You sought to beat my power to eat,
An empty plate was my reply.
The cat you left in Grosvenor Square
Is not more hungry now than I.
Some newer pupil you must find,
Who, when you pile his plate sky-high,
Will meekly say he does not mind.
You sought to beat my power to eat,
An empty plate was my reply.
The cat you left in Grosvenor Square
Is not more hungry now than I.
Lady Clara Shere de Shere,
You sometimes took a mother's view,
And feared lest winsome Dorothy
Should learn too much from me—or you.
Indeed I heard one bitter word
That scarce were fit for her to hear;
Our language had not that repose
Which rightly fits a Shere de Shere.
You sometimes took a mother's view,
And feared lest winsome Dorothy
Should learn too much from me—or you.
Indeed I heard one bitter word
That scarce were fit for her to hear;
Our language had not that repose
Which rightly fits a Shere de Shere.
Lady Clara Shere de Shere,
The marriage bells rang for the Hall.
The flags were flying at your door;
You spoke of them with curious gall.
How you decried the pretty bride
And swore her dresses weren't by Worth,
And gaily went to church to stare
At her of far too noble birth.
The marriage bells rang for the Hall.
The flags were flying at your door;
You spoke of them with curious gall.
How you decried the pretty bride
And swore her dresses weren't by Worth,
And gaily went to church to stare
At her of far too noble birth.
Trust me, Clara Shere de Shere,
The man I saw who's rather bent,
The grand old gardener at your house
Prefers the bride of high descent.
H
The man I saw who's rather bent,
The grand old gardener at your house
Prefers the bride of high descent.
H
...