Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, February 18, 1893

Excerpt

PHANTASMA-GORE-IA!

Picturing the Various Modes of Melodramatic Murder. (By Our "Off-his"-Head Poet.)

No. IV.—The "Over-the-Cliff" Murder.

It may be this—that the Villain base

Has insulted the hero's girl;

It may be this—that he's brought disgrace

On a wretchedly-acted Earl.

I care not which it may chance to be,

Only this do I chance to know—

A cliff looks down at a canvas sea

And some property rocks below!

You say, perhaps, it is only there

From a love of the picturesque—

You hint, maybe, that it takes no share

In the plot of this weird burlesque;

But cliffs that tremble at every touch,

And that flap in the dreadful draught,

Have something better to do—ah, much!

Than to criticise Nature's craft!

The cliff is there, and the ocean too,

And the property rocks below.

(These last, as yet, don't appear to you,

But they're somewhere behind, I know.)

The cliff is there, and the sea besides

(As I fancy I've said before),

And yonder alone the Villain hides

Who is thirsting for someone's gore!

And now there comes to the Villain bold

The unfortunate Villain Two.

He's here to ask for the promised gold

For the deeds he has had to do.

But words run high, and a struggle strong

Sends the cliff rocking to and fro,

And Villain Two topples off ere long

To the property rocks below!

The scene is changed. The revolving cliff

Now exhibits its other side.

The corpse is there, looking very stiff—

Even more than before it died!

The crime is traced to the hero Jack,

Notwithstanding the stupids know

Deceased was thrown by the Villain black

To the property rocks below!

If the day's (as usual) pitchy,

Take up Anne Thackeray Ritchie!

If you're feeling "quisby-snitchy,"

Seek the fire—and read your Ritchie!

If your nerves are slack or twitchy,

Quiet them with soothing Ritchie.

If you're dull as water ditchy,

You'll be cheered by roseate Ritchie.

Be you achey, sore, chill, itchy,

Rest you'll find in Mrs. Ritchie!

May her light ne'er shine with slacker ray,

Gentle daughter of great Thackeray!

"Words! Words! Words!"—The decision in "the Missing Words (and money) Competition" is, in effect, "No more words about it, but hand over the £23,628 to the National Debt Commissioners." Advice this of Stirling value.

You Fall, Eiffel!

Are the Panama sentences rather hard?

So Monsieur Eiffel pro tem. disappears.

To walk round about a prison yard

Is the Tour d'Eiffel for a couple of years.

Evident.—The little song for Mr. Harry Lawson to sing on reading Mr. Charles Darling's letter in the Times of Thursday last—"Charley is my Darling!"

A Real "Opening" for a Smart Young (Political) Man.—The settling, on rational grounds, of the great and much-muddled up "Sunday-Opening" Question.

Cue for the Critics (if the New Coinage does not seem an improvement upon the Jubilee failures).—Pepper Mint!

Important Financial Question for Italians.—Are the Banks of the Tiber secure?

["Mr. Henry Blackburn, lecturing at the London Institution, Finsbury Circus, said English people were not an artistic nation, and instead of getting better, they appeared to be rapidly getting worse....