Page:Punch (Volume 147).pdf/321

October 7, 1914.]

Cyclist (taking initiative on being caught without a light.)



soldiers, martial heroes, in a world of fire and flame, By their fortitude and daring have achieved immortal fame, But there's one, a more civilian, who a vates sacer lacks—
 * Burgomaster !

Therefore let a sorry rhymer offer you his humble meed, And salute your priceless service to your country in her need, All unarmed yet undefeated, never turning in your tracks—
 * Burgomaster !

Athanasius contra mundum—you remind us of the tag, You whose fearless manifestoes never brooked the German gag; Bucking up your fellow-townsmen when their hearts were weak as wax—
 * Burgomaster !

Now, alas! we read the foemen have decided to deport And intern you for a season in some dismal German fort, For your presence was distasteful to the Hun who sacks and "hacks"—
 * Burgomaster !

Yet, whatever fate befalls you, as the ages onward roll You will live in deathless lustre on your country's Golden Roll, For you faced the German bullies with the stiffest of stiff backs—
 * Burgomaster !

 There are German financiers who now allude to him as "Dishonoured ."



Ponto in town is strictly comme il faut,
 * A member of the most exclusive set

(His pedigree and dwelling all may know
 * Who read page 90 in the "Dogs' Debrett").

His mien is dignified, his gait is slow;
 * If upstart strangers try to catch his eye

He kicks the dust behind with scornful toe,
 * Averts his lifted nose and passes by.

His friends he greets with careful etiquette,
 * Permits his well-poised tail-tip to vibrate,

Then treads with them the solemn minuet
 * That antique custom and good form dictate.

But Ponto by the sea! ah, who would know
 * This damp wild ragamuffin on the strand

Who importunes the passers-by to throw
 * Big stones across the opal-shining sand?

Ponto dishevelled, ears turned inside out,
 * Has suffered some sea change; his social worth

Is all forgot; he leads a Comus rout,
 * Tykes of the shore and curs of lowly birth.

Yelping with joy he brings his wolfish pack
 * About my legs, as, dripping from the sea,

I pick my way thro' shingle and wet wrack
 * Beleaguered by this bandit company.

But when the day comes round to leave the shore
 * Ponto puts off this maniac Mr. Hyde;

Becomes a Dr. Jekyll dog once more 
 * And homeward goes serene and dignified.