SONGS OF
THE MOMENT

A PEPPERY Tartar of Baku,
Was only too prone to attack you;
With his bayonet he’d thrust,
Till the foe, in disgust,
Said, ‘I wish your Commander would sack you.’

The almond-eyed product of China,
Who comes to the Rand as a miner,
Seems to make matters hot
For the folk on the spot—
But he’s jam for the penny-a-liner.

That shrewd man of mystery, Witte,
Does not like young pressmen a bit;
When they crowd to his door, he
Won’t give them a ‘story,’
His sole observation is, ‘Git!’

We spoke (see above) of a Tartar:
We hear he’s had troubles, poor martyr!
It chanced that a shot
In a delicate spot—
Well, next battle he’ll be a non-starter.

When the first-night performance was done,
Few plaudits the ‘Conqueror’ won.
Spite of acting and dresses,
The play no success is—
Well, a ‘Conqueror’ oughtn’t to run.

Like Joseph, our good Mr. Stead
Remarks, ‘What I’ve said, I have said;’
And once more has his fling
At the Chicken of Spring—
Just notice him sit on its head.