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Various

"Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, August 29, 1891"


I hope you've not listened to enemies' strictures,
They've warned you, perhaps, against letting me pass,
_I_ shan't soil your ceiling, _I_ shan't spoil your pictures,
Or make nasty smells like that dirty imp, Gas!
You're prejudiced clearly, and that is a pity,
Why, bless you, I'm spreading all over the place!
My spark is pervading the whole of the City;
The dingy old Gas-flame must soon hide its face.
I'm brilliant, and clean, and delightfully larky;
Just look at my glow and examine my arc!
_Fwizz!_ How's _that_ for high, and for vivid and sparky!
I obviate dirt, and I dissipate dark.
You just let me in; the result you'll be charmed at.
Objections, Old Boy, are all fiddle-de-dee.
Come now! I'm sure you cannot be alarmed at
A dear little chap like me!
_PATERFAMILIAS._
A dear little chap! Very true; but I'm thinking
That you're just a little _too_ "dear" for me--yet!
Ah, yes! it's no use to stand smiling and winking;
I like the bright ways of you, youngster,--you bet!
You're white as the moon, and as spry as a rocket;
No doubt all you say in self-praise is quite true,
But you see, boy, I _must_ keep an eye to my pocket!
The Renters and Raters so put on the screw,
That a "middle-class income" won't stand much more squeezing,
And Forty or Fifty Pounds more in the year.
For _your_ bright companionship, albeit pleasing,
Would come pretty stiff, my boy.


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