Mr. Punch singeth to Swiss Landlord—

Come, carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,

Sack thy gains, and from labour away.

Stick the tongue in the cheek, and sing "La RÉpublique

(Like l'Empire, as we know) c'est la paye!"

The season's done, with purses low,

The weary tourists homeward flow—

Then carouse thee, carouse thee, my knowing Swiss boy,

Sack thy gains, and from labour away!

Swiss Landlord respondeth—

Am not I, am not I, say, a merry Swiss boy,

When I hie from the mountain away?

Les Milords they may climb, without reason or rhyme,

But, beigott, for their climb they shall pay.

My shutters up, no thieves to fear,

Till back the tourists come next year,

Then will I, then will I, as the merry Swiss boy,

Take purses upon the highway!

By the nose, by the nose, sir, the knowing Swiss boy

The Milords and Miladis can lead;

Through the nose, through the nose, too, the knowing Swiss boy

The Milords and Miladis can bleed:

Hotels so high high charges grow;

Point d argent, point de Suisse, you know.

So with Vivent les Anglais! locks the merry Swiss boy

The francs in his strong-box away!