Wonders of the Victorian Age. Punch
Our gracious Queen—long may she fill her throne—
Has been to see Louis Napoleon.
The Majesty of England—bless her heart!—
Has cut her mutton with a Bonaparte;
And Cousin Germans have survived the view
Of Albert taking luncheon at St. Cloud.
In our young days we little thought to see
Such legs stretched under such mahogany;
That British Royalty would ever share
At a French Palace, French Imperial fare:
Nor eat—as we should have believed at school—
The croaking tenant of the marshy pool.
At the Trois Freres we had not feasted then,
As we have since, and hope to do again.
This great event of course could not take place
Without fit prodigies for such a case;
The brazen pig-tail of King George the Third
Thrice with a horizontal motion stirr’d,
Then rose on end, and stood so all day long,
Amid the cheers of an admiring throng.
In every lawyer’s office Eldon shed
From plaster nose three heavy drops of red.
Each Statue, too, of Pitt turn’d up the point
Of its proboscis—was that out of joint?
While Charles James Fox’s grinn’d from ear to ear,
And Peel’s emitted frequent cries of “Hear!”