The Comic Almanack, Volume 1 / An Ephemeris in Jest and Earnest, Containing Merry Tales, Humerous Poetry, Quips, and Oddities

SEPTEMBER.—Michaelmas Gander.

1830.]	SEPTEMBER.

1 St. Giles. The faithful Scroggins lifted to the skies,

A consternation in his Molly's eyes.

6. Stratford Jubilee, 1769.

"Mother! mother! take in the clothes: here be the players a-coming!"

THE HARVEST SUPPER.

The latest load from the field is come,
"Hip! Hip! Hip! for the Harvest Home!"
The guests they throng to the feast in swarms,
More men than manners, more chairs than forms;
And 'twould puzzle a lawyer here to point,
And prove that the times are out of joint.

I love fat fowls in a bill of fare,
Yet this for ever I will declare,
That the dish, however it may be scorned,
For a harvest supper is beef that's corned.

I love a dame of the good old sort,
The piano not her only forte,
Her sons, who something know beside
To break a pointer, drink, and ride;
And daughters, who return from school,
To feed the pullets, not dance la poule.

There are some that gather, who do not grow,
And some that reap, who are but sow-sow,
But the honest farmer, blunt and plain,
Who has never learned to drink champagne
(Like some, or else I'm much mistaken,
Who pinch the poor to save their bacon),
May plenty crown his peaceful dome,
And "Hip! Hip! Hip! for his Harvest Home."

15 Newspaper Stamp Duty reduced, 1836.

Chancellor of the Exchequer brought to his last penny.

29 Michaelmas Day. De Goostibus non est disputandum.

ÀPROPOS OF THE GOOSE.

"Dear Uncle, accept our best thanks
For your very nice Michaelmas treat;
Such a beautiful bird I ne'er saw,—
So tender! so young! and so sweet!
My wife and myself both declare,
Since we tied the hymeneal noose,
We never before clapp'd our eyes
On so fine—so delicious a goose!

"The brats are all well. Little Sam
Is a Solomon quite for his age:
Such a mimic! We've serious thoughts
Of bringing him up to the stage.
He already takes off you and aunt,
Her way of exclaiming "The dooce!"
He can imitate cocks, hens, and ducks,
Àpropos, many thanks for the goose.

"Our eldest we've christened at last,
After you and my uncles at York,—
John James Paul Ralph George Job Giles Mark:
And Eliza's beginning to talk.
Little Arthur has lost a front tooth,
And another is getting quite loose:
They both want to know when you'll come;
And thank you, dear Sir, for the goose.

"Little Hal's as like you as two peas,—
So lively, so smart, and so jaunty!
And dear little Emily Ann
Is grown quite the moral of aunty.
Selina's translating in French
The voyage of Mister Pérouse;
And Amelia has knit you a purse;
And thank you, dear Sir, for the goose.

"Little Ellen's begun to sol-fa,
And her master, the Chevalier Bäûll,
Declares that he never yet heard
Child sing so exceedingly small.
Little Tom's quite a sportsman become;
He has caught a young hare in a noose,
And sends you the skin to have stuff'd:
And thank you, dear Sir, for the goose.

"Your godson's beginning to draw,—
You remember the rogue—little Mike?
He has chalk'd you and aunt on the wall;
And really they're laughably like.
Such spirits I never yet saw;
He's just like a tiger let loose:
And Sue means to work you a screen,
And thank you, dear Sir, for the goose.

"Your museum, I hope, goes on well:
But, Uncle, take care of your eyes;
And pray don't, with microscopes, look
So much at those very small flies.
I send you the horn of a deer,
(I believe it's a species of moose,)
And the quill of a real black swan;
And thank you, dear Sir, for the goose.

"I hope you ride out ev'ry day;
It's the first thing on earth for the health,
Without which, as I've oft heard you say,
What's honours, and station, and wealth?
But, dear Uncle, pray never more mount,
That wild thing you bought of Lord Roos:
But you are so exceedingly bold!
Did I thank you before for the goose?

"P.S.—Could you lend me ten pounds
Till Christmas? My lease is just out,
And I've no one to fly to but you:
Dear Sir—By-the-bye, how's your gout?—
The int'rest of course I shall pay,
Five per cent.—Is your cough getting loose?—
You can send it per post—and, dear Nunks,
Many thanks for that duck of a goose."

OCTOBER.	[1838

Messuages delivered.

1 London Parcels Delivery Comp. estab. 1837.

TRIUMPH OF TEE-TOTALISM.

Dere Frind,

I rite to inform you our caws is quite the top of the tree in these parts, nerely all the publicks is ruined and shut up quite private, the checkers is xchecker'd—the baileaves is in at the rosemary bush—and there's not a sole to shak ands at the Salitation—nothing but whimpering at the whine waultz, instead of dancing and tostication so the wendors of spirits is quite dispirited and at the hintermedihate nobody wont go to be drunk on the premises. Our parson hoo nose the sin of spiritual lickers as inroled isself and some of the jentry as hates gin as jined us, the sqwire too sais he will sine and sail with us as long as he dosnt go out of site of port. We holds quite a strong meeting weakly but drinks nothing but Tee total and as abolisht XX intire and marches quite connubial together round the pump to the tune of Andle's water music but we as now less occasion for the spout and shall soon dew altogether without my unkle which is a relashun you will be glad to hear for as we have left off our cups we have less need of the balls, but I am sorey to sea all our happytites is sadly hincreased witch is wery detrimental and hilconvenent at this critearyon of the ear. We was extorted last weakly meeting by a new member a norrid drunkerd but now quite a reform carrikter sins his money was all gone and nobody wont trust him. His discoors was quite headyfying for he is a tailer and goos about in the good cawse since he left off gozzling. Before he jined us he was alwise stupid drunk and beatin his wif and now he never gives his mind to licker. Just at the beginning he was quite affecting and could not get on without a go of brandy which we thought very rum. He as given up his trade witch was his sole dependanse sinse he lost all his plaices and know dout he will be trew to us til somthink else befalse. Dere frind thease is the first Hoctober as we as passed without a brewin witch it looks rayther brown but hope to bear it—and we are getting quite hammerous of our tease witch at first was very tormenting but now the slow leaves goes off as fast as gunpowder and them, has as gardings makes the how-queer mixter, but I am afeard I'm a bit of a bore as the learned pig sed and so conclood

Dere frind affeckshionately

Tobias Pumpswill.

25 St. Crispin's Day.

"Wanted, a Closer."

OCTOBER.—Battle of A gin·court. (Petty France)

JOE COSE IN LONDON TO PHŒBE BUTTERCUP IN
THE COUNTRY.

"O deer Feby sich a plase lunnun is yew Havent got a singl hidear i only wish yew was Hear yew wood sune hav al the tethe Stole out off yewr hed ass for sites Bles yewr week ize i hav sea evry think & havent had no time for Nothink only luvving yew & Sory yew rote them 4 ubbrading ninepeny leters wich rely doant Bleav as yewr Makeing me a pressant of the Kichin sithers at parting has Bean abl to Cut our luv in 2 O deerist Feby the sithers must be verry Sharp grun indede ass cood Severe sich luv ass ourn i hav bean to the Tip top of St palls & Drunk my share off 2 botls off wisky inside the bal wich is quite a rume But must confes i nevver was in sich a Bal rume in al my life the vew is rely Wunderfull nevver sea so much smoak togethar in al my Days allso hav bean to sea the lions in the towr wich their is no sich thing to be Seen & the same of the brittish mewseam wear i was Told i shood sea al sorts of Live creturs but turnt out nothink but Stuff allso hav Bean to doory lane & Comon Gardn & my i Feby sich hacting & singing Fillips partickler tawk of Garick i am sur he is ass Depe as Garick & mister Brayam sings Deper & deper stil allso hav Bean lukky anuff to sa the yung quean wich deer Feby she is no moor Like a quean then yew ar namely insted of a crown on her hed ass she orts to hav her Rial hiniss had nothink but a comon Bonit & insted of a septer in her and nothink but a Grene silk parrysawl only Think Feby of ruleing a nashun like Grate briton with a grene silk parrysawl allso hav ad a intervew with the duk of Welinton wich insted off Bean the Grate ero they giv him out to be is quite a Litel chap & deerest Feby cood Lik him my self & stand of 1 leg then theirs the parks ide Park St jamess & Regency park lately Threw open to the publik wich is a grate advarntige in regard of meting nuss mades wich ide Park & kensinton gardns was rely geting so Low did i tel yew befour of the stem pakits on the rivver they ar al as one as stage coches namely going upon weels & Carying inside & out pasingers only insted of osses is Drawd alung by nothink but Chimblys to be Short with yew i hav sea allmost evrythink But not yet ad the plessure off Bean pressant at a Dredfull fire tho they was 6 ouzes Burnt only a strete of last tewsdy nite & a hold gentel man Jumt out off a 2 pare off stares windy on to a Pattant air fetherbed only unfortynat the made forgot to Blo it up in the mornin and consiquensialy the hold gemman insted off Braking his fal only Broke 2 off his ribs i was lukky anuff to sea a yung wumman Drownded in the sirpintine wich she wood hav Savd her life if it hadent Bean for 1 off the umain sasietys men Geting intangld in her petty cotes & keping her hed too lung under Warter allso sea a hold wumman nokt Down by a noo polease & 3 men kild by Safety cabs to say nothink off hacksidents by homini-bus wich is no wunder seaing the number they Cary wich yew no Siting down 13 is unlukkines itself allso Bean pressant at a Dredfull drunken row in a coart in pety france wich master and me Geting into the Coart end we was quite jamd in & in Devvaring to cut our Lukky receevd sevral Unlukky blos but at last the noo polease Arivd & evry Sole tuk to his Eels & as master laffably sed insted off the Batl of a Gin court turnt out the Batl of Runnymede but deerest Feby doant Bleav in the midl off al this plessuring nayther master nor me is appy in lunnun i asure yew we ar quite Contrayry & artily Repent as evver we Consentid to becum parliment men for West stafordsheer wich befour we was hindipendant members we cood Do ass we likt But now just Revers & ar quite tide by our 4 legs master as Bean admitd at crokfuds a notoryus hel but poor feller he finds hisself quite out off his Hellyment & indede boath him & me is quite at a Los without our old friends the Cows & shepe & yew & missis & al the rest off the beests ass we hav Bean ust to al our lives & master is grew quite thin in consequents & Bleav me Feby tho i doant Take in my waste cotes so menny oles i mis yew quite ass much ass master missis missis we spend al our Spar time in Smith feeld wich is the only rele plessure we hav Smith feeld is just the same ass 1 of our own feelds in West stafordsheer only no gras nor no eges nor no riks of hay nor no Stiles to sit a coartin on But ful of orses & cows & carves & pigs & shepe & other Beestly sites O them deer pigs ow Glad i was to ear there wel none vices it quite put me in mind of yew & deer Butermilk villige & i rely cood have Stade a earin them squele al day Lung wich deerest Feby doant Bleav wat i say about the pigs is al Gammon we hav got a Bewtifull ous in pel mel & the yung ladys ar verry Gay mis Jewlia is verry fond off Sowlogical gardning & gos evry day to Studdy the hannimils at the regency Park allso mis Jawgeny rides out evry mornin on her pony with James the noo sirvent beind on 1 off the hold coch orses wich as Bean clipt & his tale Cut thurrow bred for the okasion the sirvents is al very wel & my duty to yewr farther & ow is yewr sister Suzn & poor litl nock need Nely & abuv al deerest luv Ows yewr muther Respecktiv cumps to al yewr old felow sirvents & Pleas exept yewrself deerest Feby

from yewr adorabl

JOE COSE.

P. S. O Feby Feby wear al in a huprore sins Riting my abuv we hav found out mis Jewlia only went Sowlogical gardning for a xcuse to mete her luvver & is boath loped away gudnes or rather Badnes nose wear Allso the same of mis Jawgeny & James the noo sirvent ass i told yew off but Bles yewr art was no sich thing but only a luvver in disgize & wen we al thort him a Real lakky turnt out nothink but a Vally de Sham.

NOVEMBER	[1838

THE PRAISE OF PUNCH.

I love thee, Punch! with all thy faults and failings,
Spite of the strait-laced folks and all their railings;
I love thee in thy state etherial,
Thou grateful compound of strange contradictions!
Filling the brain with Fancy's vivid fictions:
Thou castle-building wight!
Urging Imagination's airy flight;
Chasing blue devils from their dismal revels;
Spurning this sombre world of selfish sadness,
And changing sounds of woe to notes of gladness:
Call'd by whatever name,
Rum, Rack, or Toddy,—thou soul without a body!
Thy welcome is the same.

I like-wise love thee in thy state material,
Thou merry fellow, Punchinello!
Thou chip of an old block!
Thou wooden god of fun!—practical pun!
Thou hearty cock!
Thou dissipator of Policeman's vapours,
In whose grim face,
Ting'd with the blueishness of nothing-to-doishness,
We oft may trace
A grin as he beholds thee cut thy capers.

"Pet of the Petticoats!" lov'd of Servant Maid,
So neat and staid;
Who, from the area steps, with furtive eyes,
Surveys thy antics in a mute surprise;
Belov'd of Errand Boy! who little cares
For weighty matters he unconscious bears,
If Punch in all his glory stops his way,
Tempting the varlet with a priceless play.

Delight of young and old, of great and small!
Tho' of each grosser passion thou'rt the slave,
Albeit thou'rt rake and rogue, and thief and knave,
Of ev'ry grace and goodness quite bereft,
With not a virtue to redeem thee left;
Spite of thy faults, oh, Punch! we love thee all!
And hence thy Wooden Worship dost impart
A moral sound to every conscious heart:
Thou show'st us, Punch, that we're not over-nice
When wit and humour are allied to vice.
But as thy close acquaintance brings hard knocks
On wooden blocks,—
So, if we'd 'scape a world of awkward trouble,
Whene'er in real life we meet thy double
(And rogues of thews and sinews, flesh and blood,
Are not so harmless quite as those of wood),
Let us observe this rule,—this prudent plan—
Enjoy the humour, but avoid the man.

AN ADVENTURE OF A GUY.

In days gone by, ere "George the Third was king,"
Or men had heard the names of Burke or Swing,
Lived an old hunks in London's famous city,
Who had a niece, fair, buxom, wise, and witty.
And this fair maiden, being past fifteen,
Had got a lover—young Alonzo Green—
A youth of goodly parts and handsome mien.
But, as Alonzo was extremely poor,
Old hunks had in his face banged-to the door;
And ever after, that his niece might be
More safe, he kept her under lock and key.
But still they corresponded—thro' the means
Of an old woman who sold herbs and greens:
And thus the lovers planned to run away,
And get them married one Gunpowder Day.
Alonzo was to come disguised as Guy;
And while the mummers played their mummery,
A real Guy was to be deftly placed
Within the chair, while he ran off in haste
To hide him till old hunks was fast asleep;
When thro' the garden window they could creep,
And, down a silken ladder gently gliding,
Soon find some happy bower for love to hide in.

So said, so done (in those days men would vie
Who best should entertain the loyal Guy:
All else got mobbed as friends of popery):
The mummers were admitted, Guys exchanged,
And everything was done as pre-arranged.

Now all is still: old hunks locks up the house:
Alonzo lies as quiet as a mouse:
When lo! he hears a step upon the floor—
And then, old hunks arrives—and locks the door.

The Gunpowder Plot or Guys in Council.

The fact was this: a rival of our swain,
Who'd tried to win the niece's heart in vain,
Had bribed a mummer to reveal the plot,
Which thus to the old hunks's ears had got.
Now to the maiden's room the grey-beard flies,
And, deaf to all her prayers, and tears, and sighs,
Bids her prepare for instantaneous flight:
A coach will come for her that very night.
Even as he speaks, she hears the horrid wheels:
And down the stairs her hated guardian steals.

Just then the rival swain resolved to try
If he, in semblance of another Guy,
Cannot induce the maid with him to fly;
Hastes to her room, softly the window opes,
And then lets fall his ladder of silk ropes.
The maid deceived, his rashness gently chides,
Then down the silken ladder nimbly glides.

Meanwhile, Alonzo, finding himself trapped,
Without a notion how the thing had happ'd,
Opens his window, down his ladder slips,
And straightway to his lady's casement trips.
What is his wonder when his rival's ropes
He sees! What are his joys, his fears, his hopes,
When at the window he discerns his bride,
And sees her down the ladder safely glide!
All this, of course, is on the garden side.
In front, old hunks has settled all his schemes:
Of hate, and vengeance now he only dreams.
Bursting with rage and spite, he mounts the stair,
And rushes to the chamber of the fair—
But only finds Alonzo's rival there,
Who, anxiously is thro' the casement bending,
Preparatory to his safe descending.

"What do I see?" is now old hunks's cry,
"Gadso! what! that's you, is it, Master Guy?
There, brave Alonzo—there, my pretty fop!"
And thro' the window throws him neck and crop.

Meantime, the lovers have a shelter found,
Where soon in Hymen's fetters they are bound.
And long they lived, as kind and fond a pair
As—wife and husband generally are.

DECEMBER	[1838.

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

To Solon Sly, Esq.

My dear Sir,

The approaching vacation devolves on me the pleasing duty of reporting to you, by the hands of Master Timothy, the general progress of his studies. In some respects his extraordinary precocity has even exceeded my wishes. I have directed his reading principally to Biography, and his ardour has led him to add to my selection the lives of Turpin and Moore Carew, together with the instructive narratives of the Newgate Calendar. His progress in penmanship has been so great, that he has not only written all his own letters, but many for his school-fellows, to which the versatility of his genius has led him to append their names so accurately, as to enable him to obtain from their parents, with the help of the post-boy, a considerable addition to his pocket-money. I have cleared up a few of these little shades of character, which have been brought to light, as you will perceive at the foot of my bill. In Arithmetic, Subtraction has been his favourite rule, as all the drawers in the house can testify. He has also worked some complicated sums in Vulgar Fractions, and proved them, by the glazier's bill enclosed. His skill in Division has also been displayed in his setting all the school together by the ears. In Composition, his forte is romance and general fiction; indeed his conversation is of so flowery a nature, as to have been compared to a wreath of li-lies. At our races he greatly improved his acquaintance with the Greeks—Late-in, of course, included—and my servants picked him up at midnight, land-measuring, at length, on the Turnpike road. He has progressed in Logic, though rather addicted to strange premises, which may lead to serious conclusions. He has become an accomplished natural philosopher—his pursuit of Ornithology has led him to every hen-roost in the village, and all my eggs have been constantly exhausted in his experiments on suction. During his inquiries into the nature of animal heat, my favourite cat caught a severe cold, from which she never recovered, through his turning her out without her skin, on a frosty night. I have inserted a small item from my surgeon's bill, for repairs of his companions' noses, damaged by his passion for Conchology; and a charge, which I fear you will think heavy, for a skylight, destroyed by Master Timothy's falling through, while crawling along the parapet on a dark night, to seek some information at my gardener's daughter's window—an extraordinary instance of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. His decided turn for the belles lettres has deprived me of two of my best maids; for I have been obliged to discharge them on suspicion of irregularly participating in his studies, contrary to the rules of my establishment. As I do not feel competent, however, to do justice to the education of so talented a youth, I shall not expect to see Master Timothy again after the holidays.

I am, my dear Sir,
Your faithful Servant,
Barnabus Bombrush.

Birchfield Academy.

25 Apotheosis of Vauxhall Simpson, 1835.

The glories of his leg and cane are past:

He made his bow and cut his stick at last.

DECEMBER.—Christmas-eve.

THE QUEEN IN THE CITY.

How provoking! such a choking, thick, and yellow fog
No Turk or Jew would venture to turn out a Christian dog.
'Tis cruel hard, upon my word, with such a gloomy sky,
To quit my down for Queen or crown, it looks so winter-lye.
I'd rather keep me warm within, than go in all this rout,
For it's not my creed, except in need, to take to "cold without."
And I cannot see why this should be, nor the reason of it all,
It's quite a job to dine with Bob and Nabob in Guildhall.
—"Why, don't you see, her Majesty as yet is but a green one,
She's heard of city riots, but by chance has never seen one;
Tho' a king of the land once fear'd the Strand, and said it was full of sinners,
And through Cheapside was afraid to ride, so they went without their dinners.
But see the light is getting bright, and the streets are filled with people,
And pennons gleam, in the morning beam, from turret and from steeple.
The sound that swells from St. Martin's bells would please O'Connell's ear,
While the Union flag does gaily wag, they're all re-pealers there.
But now the crush becomes a rush, and the Black and Red Guards fright beholders,
Here comes the Lancers, they're the prancers, and the Blues with their broad swords over their shoulders.
And Temple Bar is the seat of war, and rags the ground bestrew,
Here's a Sunday hat, and a boy squeezed flat, a purse and a satin shoe.
Mister soldier! of course you'll make your horse take his foot from off my toe.
I'm on duty, sir, and I dare not stir till I hear the trumpet blow.—
But we've paid our guineas, and we're not such ninnies as to stand in all this riot,—
Here's a lady dead, for she hangs her head, and seems so very quiet.
Oh! what a jam, we can scarcely cram our heads within the door;
I fear you'll find, you must sit behind, since you did not come before.
Oh! that won't do—we've paid for two—myself, and here's my cousin;
I'm number twenty—here's room in plenty—why, your window wont hold a dozen.
'Tis a swindling cheat, but we lose the treat while haggling here we stand,
And we'll not submit to be thus bit, if a lawyer's in the land.
But now stand fast, they come at last, the grooms in their cloth of gold,
And Royal Dukes, you may know by their looks, so thick they can scarce be told.
Here are Silver Sticks, in a coach-and-six, methinks it's rather funny,
But those sticks are dear, and it's very clear they cost a deal of money.
A coach to carry a stick, indeed, how comical you talk—
Oh! there's many a stick, with head so thick, that rides when he ought to walk.
But who is that, in the feathers and hat, so gracious she nods her head,
Oh, that's the Queen's Bed-chamber maid. Is her Majesty going to bed?
Now the best of the fun is just begun, for, prancing, may be seen
The handsome Common Council men, in their gowns of mazarine,
And the Sheriffs bold, in their chains of gold, and not disposed to quarrel,
Though one the song of Moses sings, and the other a Christmas Carroll.
And each Alderman fat, in his three cock'd hat—so comely, one by one
They stately ride, with their grooms beside—no doubt, to hold them on.
'Tis the Mayor, of course, outside a horse, with the sword of state before him,
He looks, in his pride, from side to side. How the 'prentice boys adore him!
Hurrah! Hurrah! she comes this way—stand firm to see her pass!
Well, what have you seen?—why, not the Queen, but the glare of the window glass.
Oh, I'm going wild! have you seen my child? from above I let him fall.—
Yes, there he rolls on the people's polls, and he'll soon be at Guildhall.
That little crowd, they scream so loud, it pierces thro' and thro' you;
It's all the charity girls and boys a-singing "Hallelujah,"
And "Live the Queen"—'tis a lovely scene—did you hear that cracking note?—
'Tis a little lass, in the second class, she's burst her little throat.
And now the bells ring round again, and the cannon loudly thunder,
But, before we go, do any know which was the Queen, I wonder?
I saw the Queen, she was dressed in green, and a gold tiara crown'd her.
No, I rather think, that was her in pink, with the silver all around her.—
In pink or green she never was seen, but she wore a robe of red,
And she rode a horse, as a thing of course, with a fur cap on her head.—
I think it's plain we shall know her again, so now we'll quit our station,
And we'll take a turn, when the gas-lights burn, to see the illumination.
See crowns and stars, and bright V.R.'s, and wreaths and garlands pretty,
And laurels green all round the Queen, and mottoes quaint and witty.

Here's "Wax and Wick-toria" (Cowan, in gloria), "May she long wear her Crown (Alderman Brown), "Ourselves and the Queen" (Pellatt and Green), "She'll ne'er have her match if she reads the Dispatch" (says that jolly farmer, Alderman Harmer), "Success to Regina and Essence of Bina" (inscription good, by Matthew Wood), "Long live the Queen, to drink Black and Green" (Mr. Twining, in bright lamps shining), "None shall dare to affront her" (Sir Claudius Hunter), "In a lot we'll knock down all the foes of the crown" (a desperate go, by Farebrother and Co.).

But none of the sight gave such delight as the Aldermen and the Queen,

And throughout the land, such spectacles grand will never again be seen.