ork is second only to
that of SHAKSPEARE.

* * * * *

[Illustration: BETWEEN THE ROUNDS.

PERTURBED OLD PARTY (_loq._) "WHICH, ARTHUR MY DEAR, YOU'VE TREATED HIM TOO
DELICATE IN FUST ROUND! YOU'LL 'AVE TO PULL YERSELF TOGETHER, IF YOU'RE
A-GOIN' TO DO ANY GOOD!"]

* * * * *

POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG.

THE MAN THAT SMOKES THE RANK TWO-D CIGAR, OH!

AIR--"_The Man that broke the Bank at Monte Carlo._"

[Illustration]

[_Pardon, good_ GILBERT, _pardon, genial_ COBORN, _That from the Bois
Boolong. Unto the Cockney purlieus of 'Igh 'Olborn, We shift your
famous song._]

I'm just "all there," no 'ARRY; I've the money, so I score!
To a Race last week I went,
And there staked a quarter's rent.
Dame Fortune smiled upon me as she never done before:
And now I've copped the ochre I'm a gent!
Yus, now I've piled the pieces, I'm a gent!

_Chorus._

As I mash and lark in Finsbury Park,
With a free an' heasy hair,
You can twig the donahs stare.
"BOB must be a millionnaire!"
You can 'ear 'em cry,
"Oh, ain't _'e_ fly?
And carn't 'e wink the hother heye?"
The man wot smokes the prime Two-D cigar, oh!

I've chucked my crib, and two-quid-screw, for betting's now _my_ walk;
I do my mornin' march
Down to the Marble Arch.
I'm bound to spot more winners; I've a eye that's like a 'awk;
I'm a mass of oof and 'air-oil, shine and starch;
Yus, a reg'lar mass of ochre, shine and starch.

_Chorus._

As I walk along, still "going strong,"
With my Tuppenny all a-flare,
You can 'ear old buffers swear,
As my baccy scents the air.
You can hear 'em sigh,
And moan, "Oh my!"
You can see 'em choke, and blink the heye
At "the man wot smokes the rank Two-D cigar, oh!"

I paternise the Promenards on a Sunday, with the Swells,
With my topper on the skew,
And my cloud a-blowin' blue;
For a tuppenny smoke and a leary joke they nobble the mam'selles,
And if they're nuts on me, wot can _I_ do?
Yus, if they're arter me, wot can _I_ do?

_Chorus._

As I swagger and swell along Pell-Mell,
With a reg'lar oof-bird air,
You can 'ear sour swells declare,
"A Whitechapel weed!"--and swear.
But their narsty cry
Means--jealousy.
So I puff, and wink the hother heye--