The True Telli-Keber: or Palmer out-Palmered.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 476, 31 May 1890, Page 3

The True Telli-Keber: or Palmer out-Palmered.

(By the Drummer Boy.) * Dagonet,’ in the ‘ Referee,’ gives the foling parody on Corporal Palmer’s statement in the * Nineteenth Century ’ (which has been totally denied) that two Irishmen were shot as traitors during the battle of Tel-el-Kebir : Sir Garnit, he sez, * Now then,’ he sez, ‘hup and hat ’em,’ and we hupped and give ’em sich a hatting as they won’t forgit in an hurry. I see Sir Garnit hissel’ kill a ’Gypshen and drink ’is blood ’cus he was so thirsty, only he put sherbut in the blood to make it fizz. He ses to me, ‘Hev a drop, boy?’ I sez, ‘No, thankee, Sir Garnit, I’m Blue Ribbing.’ One chap in our richment was a Hirishman from Wales, and because he sneezed Sir Garnit sez ‘Baynub ’im !’ bub the surgint he sez, ‘No ; let me have ’im for to vevesexhun ’ or somethin’, I forgib the word. Bub he cub ’im open while alive to see if it was true as he had a black heart, as a chap in the richment wbat he had owed sixpence to had said. When we got to the canal it was so full of camels and osses and dead corpses that we didn’t like to drink the water. ‘ o,’ sez Sir Garnit, 1 we’ll soon halter that,’ and he has a lob of red-’ob shells thrown in the canal till the water biled and piled all the camels and dead corpses. ‘Now, my boys,’ he sez, ‘ ’elp yerselves to soup;’ and we did, and it wasn’t bad, only I got a set o’ teeth in my soup that nearly choked me dead. And about this berrying alive, it’s quite troo. I see hundreds chucked in wot was shoutin and jesbbicklingating as they'd only layd down te have a sleep. ‘’Streuth.’ Sir Garnit sez, “Do you think we’re a-goin’ bo stay ’ere orl day a-feelin’ all their bally ’arts to see if they’re stoney ded ?. No! —chuck the lot in ! And we chucked ’em. And for a hole ’our the ground was wrigglin’ and legs come out up, stiekin’ bub we jes’ chopped ’em off short, and they didn’t pub no more out. And that’s the battle of Tell Hell Key of the Beer, as we called it, and if the editor of the nineteen Sentry’s magerzeen wants any more he can ’aveit. P.S.—There ain’t been a liar in our famly fcr over a hundred years.