PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

It was a gallant Postmaster that armed him for the fray,

And, oh, his eyes were gleaming as he summoned his array;

To North and South the message went, to W. and E.,

And where, 'mid piles of ledgers, men make money in E.C.;

From Highgate Hill to Putney one cry the echoes wakes.

As the Postmen don their uniforms and shout aloud for RAIKES.

"Brave Postmen," spake an officer, who gazed upon the throng,

"Ye tramp the streets by day and night, your hours are very long;

Yet since you love the G.P.O. that thus your feet employs,

We must not see you flouted by a perky pack of hoys.

Swift rally round the Master who quavers not nor quakes,

Our Red Knight of the Pillar-Box, the adamantine RAIKES.

"What? 'The Public want the Messengers'? We'll teach the Public sense,

Which consists in looking pleasant while we pocket all their pence.

Though the papers rave, we care not for their chatter and their fuss.

They must keep at home their messages, or send them all through Us.

And we'll crush these boy-intruders as a mongoose crushes snakes.

They have sown, but we shall reap it—'tis the will of Mr. RAIKES."

But Punch was there, and listened, and his angry face grew red,

Like the tape that RAIKES delights in, and he shook his ancient head,

"RAIKES," he cried, "I doubt your wisdom, and I much incline to scorn

Those who trespass on their neighbour's land, and cart away his corn.

Let the man who makes the oven and laboriously bakes

Take the profit on the loaves he sells, nor yield it all to RAIKES.

"You say you'll do the thing yourself: Monopoly decrees

That, if boys go making honey, they must lose it, like the bees.

But, oh, be warned, my Postmaster, it's not a pleasant thing

To incur a bee's resentment and to suffer from its sting:

And (to change my humble parallel) I like not him who takes

A nest prepared by others, like the Cuckoo-Postman RAIKES!"