" He is now hard at work writing a new
Opera (founded, we believe, on _Cox and Box_), and "I am here," he
says, in his quaint way, "because I don't want to be dis-turbie'd."
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE "RETURNED EMPTY."]
_Returned Prodigal sings, to the tune of "Randy Pandy, O!"_:--
Well, here I'm back from Mashonaland!
Mine's hardly a proud position.
My ideas in going were vaguely grand,
And--look at my present condition!
I may cool my heels on this packing-case;
'Tis a little mite like _me_, Sir!
Say my "candid friends," as they watch my face,
"O.I.C.U.R.M.T., Sir!"
I'm the prodigal GRANDY-PANDY, oh!
Returned to my native landy, oh!
With a big moustache, and but little cash,
Though the latter would come in handy, oh!
Like the nursery Jack-a-dandy, oh!
I may "love plum-cake and candy," oh!
But tarts and toffies, or sweets of office,
Seem not--at present--for GRANDY, oh!
Well, I chucked them up,--was it _nous_ or _pique_?
_Is_ the prodigal worst of ninnies?
The fatted calf, and the better half
Of his father's love--and guineas,--
May fall to his share as he homeward lies,
When the husks have lost their flavour.
_My_ calf? Well, it does not greet my eyes,
And I don't yet sniff its savour.
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