However, he was not going to admit this:--
[Illustration]
"It would be hissed off the stage," he said, courageously. "The
fact is, that our Eccentric Vocalists have always shrunk from the
responsibility of presenting a national vice under an attractive
light, and so such exhibitions are absolutely unknown among us."
"I respect them for their scruples," said TIME; "they have their
reward in a clear conscience," "No doubt," said _Mr. Punch_. "Shall we
go on?" And as TIME had had enough of the Boozer King, they went on,
and entered the next hall, just as a remarkably pretty young girl,
with an innocent rosebud mouth and saucy bright eyes like a bird's,
tripped daintily on to the platform.
"Come," said TIME, with more approval than he had yet shown, "this is
better--_much_ better. We need feel no shame is listening to _this_
young lady, at all events. What is she going to give us? Some tender
little love-ditty, I'll be bound?"
She sang of love, certainly, though she treated the subject from
rather an advanced point of view, and this was the song she sang:--
"True love--you tyke the tip from me--'s all blooming tommy-rot!
And the only test we go by is--'ow much a man has got?
So none of you need now despair a girlish 'art to mash,--
So long as you're provided with the necessairy cash!"
And the chorus was:--
"You may be an 'owling cad;
Or be gowing to the bad;
Or a hoary centenarian, or empty-headed lad;
Or the merest trifle mad--
If there's rhino to be had,
Why, a modern girl will tyke you--yes, and only be too glad!"
As she carolled out this charming ditty in her thin high voice, TIME
positively shivered in his stall, "Are _all_ the girls like that in
Seriocomix?" he moaned.
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