A Swell's Homage to Mrs. Stowe
A must wead Uncle Tom--a wawk
Which A'm afwaid's extwemely slow,
People one meets begin to talk
Of Mrs. HARWIETBEECHASTOWE.
'Tis not as if A saw ha name
To walls and windas still confined;
All that is meawly vulga fame:
A don't wespect the public mind.
But Staffa'd House has made haw quite
Anotha kind a pawson look,
A Countess would pasist, last night,
In asking me about haw book.
She wished to know if I admiawd
EVA, which quite confounded me;
And then haw Ladyship inqwaw'd
Whethaw A did'nt hate LEGWEE?
Bai JOVE! A was completely flaw'd;
A wish'd myself, or haw, at Fwance;
And that's the way a fella's baw'd
By ev'wy gal he asks to dance.
A felt myself a gweat a fool
Than A had evaw felt befaw;
A'll study at some Wagged School
The tale of that old Blackamaw!
-THE END-
Punch's poem: A Swell's Homage to Mrs. Stowe
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