The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 102,
Jan. 9, 1892, by Various

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Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 102, Jan. 9, 1892

Author: Various

Release Date: November 26, 2004 [EBook #14166]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 102.

January 9, 1892.

ON A NEW YEARLING.

(_SECOND WEEK._)

[Illustration: Second Week. Little 1892 grows rapidly, and begins to
look about him.]

My fire was low; my bills were high;
My sip of punch was in its ladle;
The clarion chimes were in the sky;
The nascent year was in its cradle.
In sober prose to tell my tale,
'Twas New Year's E'en, when, blind to danger,
All older-fashioned nurses hail
With joy "another little stranger."

The glass was in my hand--but, wait,
Methought, awhile! 'Tis early toasting
With paeans too precipitate
A baby scarce an outline boasting:
One week at least of life must flit
For me to match it with its brothers--
I'll wager, like most infants, it
Is wholly different from others.

He frolics, latest of the lot,
A family prolific reckoned;
He occupies his tiny cot,
The eighteen-hundred-ninety-second!
The pretty darling, gently nursed
Of course, he lies, and fondly petted!
The eighteen-hundred-ninety-first
Is not, I fancy, much regretted.

You call him "fine"--he's great in size,
And "promising"--there issue from his
Tough larynx quite stentorian cries;
Such notes are haply notes of promise.
Look out for squalls, _I_ tell you; soft
And dove-like atoms more engage us;
Your _fin-de-siecle_ child is oft
Loud, brazen, grasping, and rampageous.

You bid me next his eyes adore;
So "deep and wideawake," they beckon;
We've suffered lately on the score
Of "deep and wideawake," I reckon.
You term me an "unfeeling brute,"
A "monster Herod-like," and so on--
You may be right; I'll not dispute;
I'll cease a brat's good na