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    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887
    Ebook94 pages44 minutes

    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887

    By F. C. (Francis Cowley) Burnand

    ()

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887

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      Book preview

      Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887 - F. C. (Francis Cowley) Burnand

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93,

      August 13, 1887, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, August 13, 1887

      Author: Various

      Editor: Francis Burnand

      Release Date: May 7, 2008 [EBook #25361]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LONDON CHARIVARI, VOLUME 93 ***

      Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Matt Whittaker,

      Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading

      Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      PUNCH,

      OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

      VOL. 93.

      AUGUST 13, 1887.

      AT THE OVAL.

      Surrey versus Notts. August 1st, 2nd, and 3rd 1887.

      (By One of the Fifty Thousand.)

      Enthusiastic Surreyite loquitur:—

      Hooray! Oh, you must let me holloa. I'm one of the famed Surrey Crowd,

      And a roar for a win such as this is, cannot be too long or too loud.

      Lo! man!

      Won by four wickets! As good as though Walter had scored half a million,

      Great Scott! what a rush from the ring! what a crowd round the crowded Pavilion!

      Lohmann! Maurice Read!! Shuter!!! they shouted. Key!!! Key!!! Lohmann!!! Lohmann!!!

      Took down the number of Notts, Sir, and she's a redoubtable foeman.

      We haven't licked her for years, and she crowed, Sir, and not without reason;

      And now, under Shuter, we've done it at last, Sir, and twice in one season!

      After a terrible tussle; how oft was my heart in my mouth, Sir.

      Luck now seemed to lean to the North, and anon would incline to the South, Sir.

      Game wasn't won till 'twas lost. Hooray, though, for Surrey! 'Twas her win.

      We missed our Wood at the wicket, Notts squared it by missing her Sherwin,

      Both with smashed fingers! Rum luck! But then cricketing luck is a twister.

      And Sherwin turned up second innings. Did you twig his face when he missed her,

      That ball from J. Shuter, our Captain? It ranked pretty high among matches,

      But Surrey did make some mistakes, Sir, and Notts——well, they couldn't hold catches.

      Shuter shone up, did he not? Forty-four, fifty-three, and such cutting!

      Hooray! Here's his jolly good health, and look sharp, for they're close upon shutting.

      Partial be blowed! I'm a Surreyite down to my socks, that's a fact, Sir.

      Shrews—bery!

      Must shout when my countymen score, and don't mind being caught in the act, Sir.

      Cracks didn't somehow come off. Arthur Shrewsbury, Notts' great nonsuch,

      Didn't make fifty all told, and our Walter—the world holds but one such—

      A poor twenty-five and eighteen—a mere fleabite for W. W.

      Still, he's our glory; and if you can spot such another, I'll trouble you.

      Grace? Why, of course, in his day he was cock of the walk—that's a moral.

      I won't say a word against him; but our Walter!—well, there, we won't quarrel.

      I'm Surrey, you know, as I said. I remember Jupp, Humphry, and Stevenson,

      Burly Ben Griffith, and Southerton! Well, if it ever was evens on

      Match, it was surely on this one. Oh, yes, I gave points, six to five, Sir,

      But then I have always backed Surrey, and will do so whilst I'm alive, Sir.

      And t'other was Notts, don't you see, so I couldn't well show the white feather.

      Ah! well, 'twas a wonderful match; such a crowd, such a game, and such weather!

      K. J. K. (that's Mr. Key) showed remarkably promising cricket—

      I did feel a little bit quisby

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