Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

A MOAN OF MERRY CHRISTMAS.
(By Our Own Dismal Dyspeptic.)
Oh, Christmas is a season when this melancholy earth
Has to put on the appearance of ungovernable mirth—
a chuckle for your ordinary sigh,
And you give each other presents that you can't afford to buy—
When the little boys with snowballs are so shockingly unkind,
And improve on the occasion to attack you from behind—
When the mistletoe its terrors at the bashful person hurls,
And you have to kiss a number of unpleasant-looking girls!
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

Down the Palace stairs they come, group after group, until the Stage, even of Old Drury, can hold no more, and there is scarcely room for them all to move, much less to indulge in any "kicking up ahind and afore," as was the wont of the Ancient Joseph, whose fame is hymned in Nigger Minstrelsy. A most brilliant scene, never to be forgotten!—that is, until next Pantomime Season, when Sir Druriolanus will, in all probability, show us something equally magnificent, and as perfect in design and colour.
Source: Gutenberg

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