"
Thanks, _Daily News_! Wipe, childhood, the wet eye,
And Apedom for dead kin soften the Simian sigh!
* * * * *
CHARITY'S WORD OF COMMAND.--"Present alms!"
* * * * *
OYSTERS (NOT) FOR EVER!
[Illustration: A Native Hoister.]
He was a gentle Fishmonger, and WILLIAMSON his name,
No doubt you may have heard before his philanthropic game.
The lack of oysters pained him much, for how could people royster
And happy be in r-less months without the luscious oyster?
A look of pain was in his face, a pucker on his brow,
Long time he pondered very hard to try and find out how.
At last he cried, "Eureka! from France I'll go and bring them,
And into beds I've got at home without a murmur fling them."
Then they came across the Channel, and he very sweetly said,
"So glad to see you looking well, would you like to see your bed?
For there, my little dears, you stay; you'll one day know the reason.
I'll rouse you when the month of May makes natives out of season."
The Fishmongers, the Worshipful, sent down a man to see,
He wrung his hands and shook his head, and said, "Oh, miseree!
It pains me very deeply, and it drives me to distraction,
You've done what's wrong, and I shall have to institute an action.
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