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 Begbie 
 Political struwwelpeter
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 * Oh 
 
 r 
 
 &Z1 
 
 lO 
 
 E. K R. 
 
 For many days we twain did malce 
 Of harmless jests a little pile, 
 
 To earn the staff of life, and wake 
 The sturdy Briton's tardy smile. 
 
 A novice to the stressful Strand 
 
 I came to learn the scribbler's craft, 
 
 You helped to form a boyish hand, — 
 
 Inspired, encouraged, snubbed and chaffed. 
 
 So much I owe, and what I pay 
 So little! Yet, kind Educator, 
 
 Because you brushed some specks away 
 From this new-fangled Struwwelpeter — 
 
 The littleness shall be forgot. 
 
 And only friendship's tribute stand, — 
 
 A modest, frail forget-me-not 
 
 Reared in a chamber in the Strand ! 
 
 H. B. 
 
 753791
 
 I'lm.ISIlKR'S Anniunckment. 
 
 .^ ipiiiiil eJition "f " The 
 PotitU al Siru-wu'elpeler," 
 Umited in 250 copies^ will 
 he issued ai 21 - ftet etii-h. 
 This edition wiUbe printed 
 on Japanese vellum, and 
 each copy signed by the 
 Author find A/tiit. 
 
 First Edilion (5,000 copies), June. 
 Stcoiid Edition (5,000 copies'), July. 
 Third Edilion (5,000 copies), October.
 
 ( 1 )
 
 I. The Neglected Lion. 
 
 W'AllAlkk mLiAKl^J^l^i 
 
 See the British Lion pose, 
 Wildly groping for his foes ! 
 Men who tinker up the laws 
 Never manicure his claws : 
 And you will observe with pain 
 No one ever crimps his mane; 
 Seeing that he's so neglected 
 Do you wonder he's dejected ? 
 
 ?^C^ 
 
 ( 2 )
 
 2. The Story of Cruel Joseph. 
 
 ( 3 )
 
 ( 4 )
 
 But Joseph bides his time to smack 
 
 The stolid grinning Kruger back, 
 
 He marks the ghost with steely eye 
 
 And lips that tremble to reply: 
 
 The pill he swallows, and declares 
 
 Long spoons are best for Boars and Bears ! 
 
 ( 5 )
 
 "^ 3. The Dreadful Story 
 ^ about Primrose and the 
 
 Gee=Gee. 
 
 I CANNOT tell you how I hate 
 
 This painful story to relate. 
 
 Young Primrose found the childish game 
 
 Of ploughing sand was rather tame ; 
 
 And so despite his fellows' frowns, 
 
 He took his gee-gee on the Downs. 
 
 But Huge Price Hughes and Labby told him 
 
 That if he did so they would scold him. 
 
 While others had so little grace, 
 
 They threw his birth into his face ! 
 
 But Primrose said, "I'll make a bet 
 
 That I will have my own way yet." 
 
 They both began to jeer, 
 
 " O naughty, naughty peer. 
 
 You quite forget 
 
 We never bet. 
 
 Oh dear," they cried, " Oh dear. Oh dear. 
 
 You are a strangely naughty peer!" 
 
 But Primrose would not take advice, 
 He won a Derby — that was nice! 
 The papers praised, the people cheered, 
 And several Interviews appeared. 
 His correspondence lay unanswered, 
 He even danced a jig on Hansard ! 
 
 The cats aware of this. 
 At once began to hiss. 
 And raise their backs. 
 And talk of sacks, 
 "Oh, really, he must go. 
 It's very wrong, you know. 
 Besides — we told him so ! "
 
 'V^\/% 
 
 And see ! How well they knew the tide, 
 A rival now is at his side; 
 His eyes are dim, his cheeks are white, 
 And Oh ! he cannot sleep at night. 
 
 Then how the fussy cats did mew, 
 
 What else, poor creatures, could they do ? 
 
 They shook their heads, they rubbed their chins, 
 
 They spoke of Consciences, and Sins ; 
 
 '■ Oh dear," they said, "his tastes are low, 
 
 A dreadful end ! We told him so !" 
 
 But from the ashes of the past 
 That smoulder in the feline blast, 
 The wisest of the prophets say, 
 That Primrose will arise some day, 
 Arise to run a longer course. 
 And ride the very highest horse ! 
 
 And when the good cats found the day 
 
 Was dull without the youngster's play, 
 
 " Oh dear," they cried, " although we doubt hitii, 
 
 We really cannot do without him ! " 
 
 Their coats got dull, their flanks got thin, 
 
 He rode his gee-gee with a grin. 
 
 ( 7 )
 
 4. The Story of the Wicked Wags.
 
 ( 9
 
 Then good Sir Wilfrid knits his brow, And though they kick and swear and yelL, 
 And darns the wags who make the row, He plumps 'em down into his well ; 
 He seizes Tommy— squeaky, squealy- Into the water— one, two, three. 
 Lays Labby oy the heels, and Healy, Till they are just as dull as he, 
 
 Turn over now and you shall see. 
 
 ( 10 )
 
 ( n )
 
 5. The Story of the Duke and the Bunnygorst. 
 
 This is the Duke who httle cares 
 For mere poHtical affairs; 
 But 'tis his duty, coute que coute, 
 To teach the young Idea to shoot. 
 
 The Bunnygorst hides in the grass, 
 And laughs to see Tarquinius pass. 
 
 Though much averse to over-work 
 A httle d^ose he does not shirk. 
 
 ( 12 )
 
 The great man wakes. O! dear what fun! 
 The Bunnygorst has bagged his gun ! 
 And look he's trying all he can 
 To pot the sleepy nobleman ! 
 The Presidential heart's aflame 
 To see that Manipurish game; 
 For pond'rous \'irtue 'tis not nice 
 To be pursued by its own " \'ice." 
 
 ( 13 )
 
 At last he got into a hole 
 (//yawned: — he'^ tumbled in, poor soul) 
 But Vice will always have its fling — 
 He banged away like anything. 
 
 "-^Z 
 
 Britannia dropped her cup of tea, 
 
 " This noise," she said, " displeases me ! 
 
 If your opinions are not fixed 
 
 You'll get your Education Mixed." 
 
 But while she spoke, her little scion, 
 
 The playful British baby lion. 
 
 Threw down his satchel with a shout, 
 
 And jumped, and danced, and skipped about. 
 
 "O lor!" he said, "What does it matter, 
 
 I work the less the more they chatter ! ' 
 
 ( l-l J
 
 6. The Story of the 
 Pushful One. 
 
 One day said Uncle: "Arthur dear 
 I must recruit and leave you here. 
 But O my nephew, concentrate 
 Your thoughts upon affairs of State, 
 The Pushful One's a dreadful schemer 
 He hates a sportsman and a dreamer, 
 And if you waste your thoughts on golf 
 He'll cut your pretty hands clean off; 
 And then, how shall my Arthur try 
 To keep his finger in the pie?" 
 
 Now Uncle scarce had turned his back- 
 He snatched a gingham from the rack 
 And gave a paper-weight a whack ! 
 
 C 1^ )
 
 But ere he'd played it round the floor 
 The Pushful One pushed Ope the Door; 
 Poor Arthur whitens to his lip 
 To see those blades in act to snip ; 
 But Snip ! and Snap ! the clippers go 
 While Arthur bellows— "£'/ iu, Joe!" 
 And prajer and pleading nought avail,— 
 He's cut off Salisbury's entail ! 
 
 Now Uncle conies ; there Arthur stands 
 
 With glaring failure on all hands. 
 
 "Ah !" Uncle said, " I told you so ; 
 
 ' Hands Off' 's the thing with Pushful Joe. 
 
 C W )
 
 7. The Story of the Protestant Who Wouldn't. 
 
 -''^?=^ 
 
 Sir William was a brawny Rad, 
 A wealth of cheek Sir William had; 
 And every member feared his weight 
 When sitting on them in debate; 
 He hit out hard — both left and right, 
 And really seemed to love the fight. 
 But one day — one twin-letter day, 
 He said — " I will not join the fray; 
 I don't care what the papers say, 
 No party will I lead to-day ! " 
 
 Next stage, behold, the picture shows 
 
 Sir William's fighting other foes; 
 
 And while the coarser strife he dreads 
 
 He thumps Episcopalian heads, 
 
 And shouts — " No politics, I say, 
 
 O take the horrid thing away, 
 
 And bring me priests that I may slay!" 
 
 The third stage comes; he's grown a mystic, 
 His only literature's Patristic. 
 And though to Rads a cheering sight 
 'Twould be to see Goliath fight, 
 j'He cries — " No politics for me. 
 My soul from vulgar strife is free ; 
 I'm doctoring Divinity!" 
 
 Look at him now, the fourth stage shows 
 A mysticism in his clothes ; 
 By scripture-jests his soul is pained, 
 
 -he's ordained ! 
 
 17 )
 
 8. The Story of Rackety Tanner. 
 
 " Let me see if little Tanner, 
 
 Can assume a suaver manner 
 
 Let me see if he is able 
 
 To look pretty at the table!" 
 
 Thus the Speaker, pained and bored, 
 
 While the Serjeant tapped his sword. 
 
 But rackety Tanner 
 
 He don't care an anna, 
 
 He mutters 
 
 And splutters, 
 
 And then, I declare. 
 
 He kicks at the table 
 
 And tilts at the Chair. 
 
 " Tanner ! Tanner ! if you can, 
 
 Be a little gentleman." 
 
 ( 18 )
 
 See the fretful, fractious chit, — 
 This is how he hkes to sit! 
 Mocking all the Speaker's wishes, 
 Jarring cutlery and dishes ; 
 Making all the china jingle. 
 Making spoons and glasses tingle; 
 Bawling, roaring, ranting, raving — 
 Everything except behaving ; 
 While in vain the Sword and Mace 
 Try to keep him in his place; 
 He would never you can tell, 
 Make a Party go off well. 
 
 ( 1'.' )
 
 Where is noisy Tanner, where ? 
 He has quite upset the Chair 
 And you'll note in doing so 
 He has fallen very low ; 
 All the House is sitting on him, 
 He has drawn their wrath upon him. 
 What a terrible to-do ! 
 Tanner, this has done for you. 
 For although the scene was hateful 
 See, the Serjeant's truly grateful, 
 Knowing that the racket's past. 
 And you're out of sight at last. 
 
 ( 20 )
 
 9. The Story of Johnny Head=in=Air. 
 
 When he came away from college 
 
 With his head stuffed full of knowledge 
 
 Johnny kept his dreamy eye 
 
 Fixed on matters rather high ; 
 
 But of ordinary acts, 
 
 Stubborn facts, 
 
 Johnny scarcely thought at all ; 
 
 So that people used to bawl — 
 
 " You're a dreamer ; Oh ! beware, 
 
 Honest Johnny Head-in-Air ! ' 
 
 Running right in Johnny's way 
 Came a Tyneside tyke one day ; 
 Johnny's mind was all astray, 
 Free from care. 
 With Voltaire, 
 
 And the shout he didn't hear: — 
 " Cave canevi, Head-in-Air ! " 
 Thump ! 
 
 Slump ! 
 Such an unexpected Plump ! 
 Johnny got a nasty bump. 
 
 CLl*-- 
 
 '^-^^^^oa 
 
 ( 21 )
 
 
 Once again with tilted nose 
 
 Johnny, member for Montrose, 
 
 Made with Harcourt coaHtion 
 
 In the art of composition. 
 
 Such a plan 
 
 This was how the letters ran: — 
 
 " As cross-currents are about 
 
 We two chaps are going out. " 
 
 Off he went, and sad to think 
 
 Straight to resignation's brink. 
 
 Up at Chelsea by the river ; 
 
 And it made his colleagues shiver. 
 
 When the dear soles, in a row, 
 
 Saw their Johnny acting so. 
 
 One step more ! Too much for him 
 He's in, but is not in the swim ; 
 For his friends without delay 
 Wagged their heads and went away. 
 
 ( 2?, )
 
 Johnny's feeling out of place, 
 And he's lost his writing-case ; 
 But whilst drifting near the Abbey 
 Campbell- Bannerman and Labby 
 Saw him, and before he sank 
 Hooked him neatly to the bank. 
 
 Oh ! behold him here regretting 
 That he ever got that wetting ; 
 He is grateful to the man 
 Who, debating the Soudan, 
 Managed by his vote and speech 
 Johnny's stranded soul to beach ; 
 For that vote and speech you see 
 Suited ev-er-y-bo-dy ! 
 
 As poor Johnny's big tears dropped, 
 Up the little fishes popped : — 
 " So young Johnny, there you are ! 
 Sorry that you went so far ; 
 And there really was no need 
 Seeing we were all agreed ! 
 Johnny! now that you know better 
 Ain't you grieved you wrote that letter ? 
 
 ( 23 )
 
 rs^L^ 
 
 10. The Story of the 
 HighFlyer. 
 
 Whkn the prifsts and la\men fight 
 
 For a vestment or a rite, 
 
 Bishops who have any sense 
 
 Balance neatl}- on the fence. 
 
 Temple thought — " No, 1 should be 
 
 Where the laity can see." 
 
 Then he joined the pious fighters; 
 
 Copes and mitres 
 
 Hurtled round his big umbrella. 
 
 And annoyed the honest fellow. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 What a rumpus ! Kensit roughs 
 Aid the soul with fisticuffs: 
 Parson punching and gymnastics 
 Please some queer ecclesiastics. 
 Temple sighs ! 
 Then he flies 
 
 From the scrimmage and the cries; 
 For the wind in his umbrella 
 Carried off the fine old fellow. 
 
 Soon it got to such a height, 
 Common-sense was out of sight ! 
 But you really need not mope, 
 They are gone for Good let's hope. 
 And though flight we can"t defend, 
 For we know not where 'twill end, 
 You'll admit that flying High 
 Ought to lead one to the Sky. 
 
 ( 24 )
 
 in 
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 DWIVEKSITY OF CALIFORMA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 GAYLAMOUNT 
 
 I PAMPHLET eiNO£R 
 
 Monuf octurwi by 
 
 [(^yLOROBROS.IfK. 
 
 SyrocuM, N.Y. 
 
 Stockton, Calif. 
 
 *}J£!<*mF. 
 
 D 000 454 397'
 
 , -.7 
 
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