HUMOROUS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1095, 24 February 1893, Page 32

HUMOROUS.

An English paper offered a prize the other day for some original nonsense rhymes. The following are a few of the best: — There was an old woman of Harrow Who would go to church in a barrow ; When it stuck in the aisle

She remarked with a smile, ‘ They will make these places bo narrow 1*

There was a young man of Madras Who frequently rode a white as 3 ; When they asked, ‘ Does it bray 2’

Ho replied, ‘ Not by day,

It’s a perfectly well-behaved ass.’

By tho 4.4 to Forfar ray son Was once most egregiously done, He went at a rate, But they cried, ‘ You’re too late, For 4.4 for Forfar is gone!’

There was an old miser of Hoo — Let me add that he wasn’t a Jew— But he charged cent by cent On the money he lent, So the called him old ‘ Hundred of Hoo.’

There was a queer king of Uganda Who cackled behind his verandah, When his queen cried ‘ You goose ;’ He replied, ‘ The rhyme’s loose, But my sox bids vou style me “ You gan« der.” ’

An omnibus driver of Ware He loved at first sight a fair 1 faro,’ He said' ‘ Love, we will marry, We will not long tarry ; For my sake wear this fair fur, fair fare.’

There was a young sailor from Stowe Whose name, we are told, was ‘ Bill Lowe,’ But a stiff gale arising, His vessel capsizing, Soon the billow below was Bill Lowe.

There was a young lady whose hat Was exceedingly broad brimmed and flat; When she walked with her ‘ feller ’ They took no umbrella, But were sheltered from rain by that hat.

There was once an old fellow of Hawarden, For cows he caved not a brass farden, Till one for a lark Knocked him down in tho park, An act which no Lib’ral can pardon.

There was an old fellow named Joe, Who lately was made a Co. Co. (County

Councillor), When they said, ‘ Have Borne brandy ?’ He said, ‘ If it’s handy, Give the newly made Co. Co. cocoa.’

There was an old punter of Lewes Sat eagerly scanning the news, After fruitless endeavour Exclaimed, ‘ S’elp me never, Wot price that there parson named Hughes.’

There was a young maid of Bombay Lost a p in in a bundle of hay ; She searched for it well, Then eat down —gave a yell— For she found the lost pin with dismay,

There was a young maid of Devizes Who constantly went in for prizes ; She cried out, ‘ Oh, drat, I can’t buy that sweet hat 1 _ t They commend me, but give mo no prizes 1

If ever you meet with a fellow Who after a dinner is mellow, You can tell very well, By the tale he will tell, There’B a few vacant racks in the cellar.