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diff --git a/old/svyrd10.txt b/old/svyrd10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff36e06 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/svyrd10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4176 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Songs of a Savoyard by W. S. Gilbert +#5 in our series by W. S. Gilbert + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Songs of a Savoyard + +by W. S. 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Gilbert +Scanned and proofed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +Songs of a Savoyard + + + + +Contents: + +The Darned Mounseer +The Englishman +The Disagreeable Man +The Coming By-And-By +The Highly Respectable Gondolier +The Fairy Queen's Song +Is Life A Boon +The Modern Major-General +The Heavy Dragoon +Proper Pride +The Policeman's Lot +The Baffled Grumbler +The House Of Peers +A Merry Madrigal +The Duke And The Duchess +Eheu Fugaces -! +They'll None Of `Em Be Missed +Girl Graduates +Braid The Raven Hair +The Working Monarch +The Ape And The Lady +Only Roses +The Rover's Apology +An Appeal +The Reward Of Merit +The Magnet And The Churn +The Family Fool +Sans Souci +A Recipe +The Merryman And His Maid +The Susceptible Chancellor +When A Merry Maiden Marries +The British Tar +A Man Who Would Woo A Fair Maid +The Sorcerer's Song +The Fickle Breeze +The First Lord's Song +Would You Know? +Speculation +Ah Me! +The Duke Of Plaza-Toro +The Aesthete +Said I To Myself, Said I +Sorry Her Lot +The Contemplative Sentry +The Philosophic Pill +Blue Blood +The Judge's Song +When I First Put This Uniform On +Solatium +A Nightmare +Don't Forget! +The Suicide's Grave +He And She +The Mighty Must +A Mirage +The Ghosts' High Noon +The Humane Mikado +Willow Waly! +Life Is Lovely All The Year +The Usher's Charge +The Great Oak Tree +King Goodheart +Sleep On! +The Love-Sick Boy +Poetry Everywhere +He Loves! +True Diffidence +The Tangled Skein +My Lady +One Against The World +Put A Penny In The Slot +Good Little Girls +Life +Limited Liability +Anglicised Utopia +An English Girl +A Manager's Perplexities +Out Of Sorts +How It's Done +A Classical Revival +The Practical Joker +The National Anthem +Her Terms +The Independent Bee +The Disconcerted Tenor +The Played-Out Humorist + + + +Ballad: The Darned Mounseer + + + +I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop, +And, off Cape Finisteere, +A merchantman we see, +A Frenchman, going free, +So we made for the bold Mounseer, +D'ye see? +We made for the bold Mounseer! +But she proved to be a Frigate - and she up with her ports, +And fires with a thirty-two! +It come uncommon near, +But we answered with a cheer, +Which paralysed the Parley-voo, +D'ye see? +Which paralysed the Parley-voo! + +Then our Captain he up and he says, says he, +"That chap we need not fear, - +We can take her, if we like, +She is sartin for to strike, +For she's only a darned Mounseer, +D'ye see? +She's only a darned Mounseer! +But to fight a French fal-lal - it's like hittin' of a gal - +It's a lubberly thing for to do; +For we, with all our faults, +Why, we're sturdy British salts, +While she's but a Parley-voo, +D'ye see? +A miserable Parley-voo!" + +So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze, +As we gives a compassionating cheer; +Froggee answers with a shout +As he sees us go about, +Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer, +D'ye see? +Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer! +And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other's cheek +(Which is what them furriners do), +And they blessed their lucky stars +We were hardy British tars +Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo, +D'ye see? +Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo! + + + +Ballad: The Englishman + + + +He is an Englishman! +For he himself has said it, +And it's greatly to his credit, +That he is an Englishman! +For he might have been a Roosian, +A French, or Turk, or Proosian, +Or perhaps Itali-an! +But in spite of all temptations, +To belong to other nations, +He remains an Englishman! +Hurrah! +For the true-born Englishman! + + + +Ballad: The Disagreeable Man + + + +If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am: +I'm a genuine philanthropist - all other kinds are sham. +Each little fault of temper and each social defect +In my erring fellow-creatures, I endeavour to correct. +To all their little weaknesses I open people's eyes, +And little plans to snub the self-sufficient I devise; +I love my fellow-creatures - I do all the good I can - +Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man! +And I can't think why! + +To compliments inflated I've a withering reply, +And vanity I always do my best to mortify; +A charitable action I can skilfully dissect; +And interested motives I'm delighted to detect. +I know everybody's income and what everybody earns, +And I carefully compare it with the income-tax returns; +But to benefit humanity, however much I plan, +Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man! +And I can't think why! + +I'm sure I'm no ascetic; I'm as pleasant as can be; +You'll always find me ready with a crushing repartee; +I've an irritating chuckle, I've a celebrated sneer, +I've an entertaining snigger, I've a fascinating leer; +To everybody's prejudice I know a thing or two; +I can tell a woman's age in half a minute - and I do - +But although I try to make myself as pleasant as I can, +Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man! +And I can't think why! + + + +Ballad: The Coming By-And-By + + + +Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year, +Sees, one by one, her beauties disappear; +As Time, grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs, +Impatiently begins to "dim her eyes"! - +Herself compelled, in life's uncertain gloamings, +To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved "combings" - +Reduced, with rouge, lipsalve, and pearly grey, +To "make up" for lost time, as best she may! + +Silvered is the raven hair, +Spreading is the parting straight, +Mottled the complexion fair, +Halting is the youthful gait, + +Hollow is the laughter free, +Spectacled the limpid eye, +Little will be left of me, +In the coming by-and-by! +Fading is the taper waist - +Shapeless grows the shapely limb, +And although securely laced, +Spreading is the figure trim! +Stouter than I used to be, +Still more corpulent grow I - +There will be too much of me +In the coming by-and-by! + + + +Ballad: The Highly Respectable Gondolier + + + +I stole the Prince, and I brought him here, +And left him, gaily prattling +With a highly respectable Gondolier, +Who promised the Royal babe to rear, +And teach him the trade of a timoneer +With his own beloved bratling. + +Both of the babes were strong and stout, +And, considering all things, clever. +Of that there is no manner of doubt - +No probable, possible shadow of doubt - +No possible doubt whatever. + +Time sped, and when at the end of a year +I sought that infant cherished, +That highly respectable Gondolier +Was lying a corpse on his humble bier - +I dropped a Grand Inquisitor's tear - +That Gondolier had perished! + +A taste for drink, combined with gout, +Had doubled him up for ever. +Of THAT there is no manner of doubt - +No probable, possible shadow of doubt - +No possible doubt whatever. + +But owing, I'm much disposed to fear, +To his terrible taste for tippling, +That highly respectable Gondolier +Could never declare with a mind sincere +Which of the two was his offspring dear, +And which the Royal stripling! + +Which was which he could never make out, +Despite his best endeavour. +Of THAT there is no manner of doubt - +No probable, possible shadow of doubt - +No possible doubt whatever. + +The children followed his old career - +(This statement can't be parried) +Of a highly respectable Gondolier: +Well, one of the two (who will soon be here) - +But WHICH of the two is not quite clear - +Is the Royal Prince you married! + +Search in and out and round about +And you'll discover never +A tale so free from every doubt - +All probable, possible shadow of doubt - +All possible doubt whatever! + + + +Ballad: The Fairy Queen's Song + + + +Oh, foolish fay, +Think you because +Man's brave array +My bosom thaws +I'd disobey +Our fairy laws? +Because I fly +In realms above, +In tendency +To fall in love +Resemble I +The amorous dove? + +Oh, amorous dove! +Type of Ovidius Naso! +This heart of mine +Is soft as thine, +Although I dare not say so! + +On fire that glows +With heat intense +I turn the hose +Of Common Sense, +And out it goes +At small expense! +We must maintain +Our fairy law; +That is the main +On which to draw - +In that we gain +A Captain Shaw. + +Oh, Captain Shaw! +Type of true love kept under! +Could thy Brigade +With cold cascade +Quench my great love, I wonder! + + + +Ballad: Is Life A Boon + + + +Is life a boon? +If so, it must befall +That Death, whene'er he call, +Must call too soon. +Though fourscore years he give +Yet one would pray to live +Another moon! +What kind of plaint have I, +Who perish in July? +I might have had to die +Perchance in June! + +Is life a thorn? +Then count it not a whit! +Man is well done with it; +Soon as he's born +He should all means essay +To put the plague away; +And I, war-worn, +Poor captured fugitive, +My life most gladly give - +I might have had to live +Another morn! + + + +Ballad: The Modern Major-General + + + +I am the very pattern of a modern Major-Gineral, +I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral; +I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, +From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical; +I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical, +I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical; +About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news, +With interesting facts about the square of the hypotenuse, +I'm very good at integral and differential calculus, +I know the scientific names of beings animalculous. +In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, +I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral. + +I know our mythic history - KING ARTHUR'S and SIR CARADOC'S, +I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox; +I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of HELIOGABALUS, +In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous. +I tell undoubted RAPHAELS from GERARD DOWS and ZOFFANIES, +I know the croaking chorus from the "Frogs" of ARISTOPHANES; +Then I can hum a fugue, of which I've heard the music's din afore, +And whistle all the airs from that confounded nonsense "Pinafore." +Then I can write a washing-bill in Babylonic cuneiform, +And tell you every detail of CARACTACUS'S uniform. +In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, +I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral. + +In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin," +When I can tell at sight a Chassepot rifle from a javelin, +When such affairs as SORTIES and surprises I'm more wary at, +And when I know precisely what is meant by Commissariat, +When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery, +When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery, +In short, when I've a smattering of elementary strategy, +You'll say a better Major-GenerAL has never SAT a gee - +For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury, +Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century. +But still in learning vegetable, animal, and mineral, +I am the very model of a modern Major-Gineral! + + + +Ballad: The Heavy Dragoon + + + +If you want a receipt for that popular mystery, +Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon, +Take all the remarkable people in history, +Rattle them off to a popular tune! +The pluck of LORD NELSON on board of the VICTORY - +Genius of BISMARCK devising a plan; +The humour of FIELDING (which sounds contradictory) - +Coolness of PAGET about to trepan - +The grace of MOZART, that unparalleled musico - +Wit of MACAULAY, who wrote of QUEEN ANNE - +The pathos of PADDY, as rendered by BOUCICAULT - +Style of the BISHOP OF SODOR AND MAN - +The dash of a D'ORSAY, divested of quackery - +Narrative powers of DICKENS and THACKERAY - +VICTOR EMMANUEL - peak-haunting PEVERIL - +THOMAS AQUINAS, and DOCTOR SACHEVERELL - +TUPPER and TENNYSON - DANIEL DEFOE - +ANTHONY TROLLOPE and MISTER GUIZOT! +Take of these elements all that is fusible, +Melt 'em all down in a pipkin or crucible, +Set 'em to simmer and take off the scum, +And a Heavy Dragoon is the residuum! + +If you want a receipt for this soldierlike paragon, +Get at the wealth of the CZAR (if you can) - +The family pride of a Spaniard from Arragon - +Force of MEPHISTO pronouncing a ban - +A smack of LORD WATERFORD, reckless and rollicky - +Swagger of RODERICK, heading his clan - +The keen penetration of PADDINGTON POLLAKY - +Grace of an Odalisque on a divan - +The genius strategic of CAESAR or HANNIBAL - +Skill of LORD WOLSELEY in thrashing a cannibal - +Flavour of HAMLET - the STRANGER, a touch of him - +Little of MANFRED (but not very much of him) - +Beadle of Burlington - RICHARDSON'S show - +MR. MICAWBER and MADAME TUSSAUD! +Take of these elements all that is fusible - +Melt 'em all down in a pipkin or crucible - +Set 'em to simmer and take off the scum, +And a Heavy Dragoon is the residuum! + + + +Ballad: Proper Pride + + + +The Sun, whose rays +Are all ablaze +With ever-living glory, +Will not deny +His majesty - +He scorns to tell a story: +He won't exclaim, +"I blush for shame, +So kindly be indulgent," +But, fierce and bold, +In fiery gold, +He glories all effulgent! + +I mean to rule the earth, +As he the sky - +We really know our worth, +The Sun and I! + +Observe his flame, +That placid dame, +The Moon's Celestial Highness; +There's not a trace +Upon her face +Of diffidence or shyness: +She borrows light +That, through the night, +Mankind may all acclaim her! +And, truth to tell, +She lights up well, +So I, for one, don't blame her! + +Ah, pray make no mistake, +We are not shy; +We're very wide awake, +The Moon and I! + + + +Ballad: The Policeman's Lot + + + +When a felon's not engaged in his employment, +Or maturing his felonious little plans, +His capacity for innocent enjoyment +Is just as great as any honest man's. +Our feelings we with difficulty smother +When constabulary duty's to be done: +Ah, take one consideration with another, +A policeman's lot is not a happy one! + +When the enterprising burglar isn't burgling, +When the cut-throat isn't occupied in crime, +He loves to hear the little brook a-gurgling, +And listen to the merry village chime. +When the coster's finished jumping on his mother, +He loves to lie a-basking in the sun: +Ah, take one consideration with another, +The policeman's lot is not a happy one! + + + +Ballad: The Baffled Grumbler + + + +Whene'er I poke +Sarcastic joke +Replete with malice spiteful, +The people vile +Politely smile +And vote me quite delightful! +Now, when a wight +Sits up all night +Ill-natured jokes devising, +And all his wiles +Are met with smiles, +It's hard, there's no disguising! +Oh, don't the days seem lank and long +When all goes right and nothing goes wrong, +And isn't your life extremely flat +With nothing whatever to grumble at! + +When German bands, +From music stands +Play Wagner imperFECTly - +I bid them go - +They don't say no, +But off they trot directly! +The organ boys +They stop their noise +With readiness surprising, +And grinning herds +Of hurdy-gurds +Retire apologising! +Oh, don't the days seem lank and long +When all goes right and nothing goes wrong, +And isn't your life extremely flat +With nothing whatever to grumble at! + +I've offered gold, +In sums untold, +To all who'd contradict me - +I've said I'd pay +A pound a day +To any one who kicked me - +I've bribed with toys +Great vulgar boys +To utter something spiteful, +But, bless you, no! +They WILL be so +Confoundedly politeful! +In short, these aggravating lads, +They tickle my tastes, they feed my fads, +They give me this and they give me that, +And I've nothing whatever to grumble at! + + + +Ballad: The House Of Peers + + + +When Britain really ruled the waves - +(In good Queen Bess's time) +The House of Peers made no pretence +To intellectual eminence, +Or scholarship sublime; +Yet Britain won her proudest bays +In good Queen Bess's glorious days! + +When Wellington thrashed Bonaparte, +As every child can tell, +The House of Peers, throughout the war, +Did nothing in particular, +And did it very well; +Yet Britain set the world ablaze +In good King George's glorious days! + +And while the House of Peers withholds +Its legislative hand, +And noble statesmen do not itch +To interfere with matters which +They do not understand, +As bright will shine Great Britain's rays, +As in King George's glorious days! + + + +Ballad: A Merry Madrigal + + + +Brightly dawns our wedding day; +Joyous hour, we give thee greeting! +Whither, whither art thou fleeting? +Fickle moment, prithee stay! +What though mortal joys be hollow? +Pleasures come, if sorrows follow. +Though the tocsin sound, ere long, +Ding dong! Ding dong! +Yet until the shadows fall +Over one and over all, +Sing a merry madrigal - +Fal la! + +Let us dry the ready tear; +Though the hours are surely creeping, +Little need for woeful weeping +Till the sad sundown is near. +All must sip the cup of sorrow, +I to-day and thou to-morrow: +This the close of every song - +Ding dong! Ding dong! +What though solemn shadows fall, +Sooner, later, over all? +Sing a merry madrigal - +Fal la! + + + +Ballad: The Duke And The Duchess + + + +[THE DUKE.] +Small titles and orders +For Mayors and Recorders +I get - and they're highly delighted. +M.P.s baronetted, +Sham Colonels gazetted, +And second-rate Aldermen knighted. +Foundation-stone laying +I find very paying, +It adds a large sum to my makings. +At charity dinners +The best of speech-spinners, +I get ten per cent on the takings! + +[THE DUCHESS.] +I present any lady +Whose conduct is shady +Or smacking of doubtful propriety; +When Virtue would quash her +I take and whitewash her +And launch her in first-rate society. +I recommend acres +Of clumsy dressmakers - +Their fit and their finishing touches; +A sum in addition +They pay for permission +To say that they make for the Duchess! + +[THE DUKE.] +Those pressing prevailers, +The ready-made tailors, +Quote me as their great double-barrel; +I allow them to do so, +Though ROBINSON CRUSOE +Would jib at their wearing apparel! +I sit, by selection, +Upon the direction +Of several Companies bubble; +As soon as they're floated +I'm freely bank-noted - +I'm pretty well paid for my trouble! + +[THE DUCHESS.] +At middle-class party +I play at ECARTE - +And I'm by no means a beginner; +To one of my station +The remuneration - +Five guineas a night and my dinner. +I write letters blatant +On medicines patent - +And use any other you mustn't; +And vow my complexion +Derives its perfection +From somebody's soap - which it doesn't. + +[THE DUKE.] +We're ready as witness +To any one's fitness +To fill any place or preferment; +We're often in waiting +At junket FETING, +And sometimes attend an interment. +In short, if you'd kindle +The spark of a swindle, +Lure simpletons into your clutches, +Or hoodwink a debtor, +You cannot do better +Than trot out a Duke or a Duchess! + + + +Ballad: Eheu Fugaces -! + + + +The air is charged with amatory numbers - +Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays. +Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers +The aching memory of the old, old days? + +Time was when Love and I were well acquainted; +Time was when we walked ever hand in hand; +A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted, +None better loved than I in all the land! +Time was, when maidens of the noblest station, +Forsaking even military men, +Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration - +Ah me, I was a fair young curate then! + +Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled; +Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear; +Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled; +And when I coughed all thought the end was near! +I had no care - no jealous doubts hung o'er me - +For I was loved beyond all other men. +Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me - +Ah me, I was a pale young curate then! + + + +Ballad: They'll None Of 'Em Be Missed + + + +As some day it may happen that a victim must be found, +I've got a little list - I've got a little list +Of social offenders who might well be underground, +And who never would be missed - who never would be missed! +There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs - +All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs - +All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat - +All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like THAT - +And all third persons who on spoiling TETE-E-TETES insist - +They'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed! + +There's the nigger serenader, and the others of his race, +And the piano organist - I've got him on the list! +And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face, +They never would be missed - they never would be missed! +Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone, +All centuries but this, and every country but his own; +And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy, +And who "doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try"; +And that FIN-DE-SIECLE anomaly, the scorching motorist - +I don't think he'd be missed - I'm SURE he'd not be missed! + +And that NISI PRIUS nuisance, who just now is rather rife, +The Judicial humorist - I've got HIM on the list! +All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life - +They'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed! +And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind, +Such as - What-d'ye-call-him - Thing'em-Bob, and likewise - Never- +mind, +And 'St - 'st - 'st - and What's-his-name, and also - You-know-who +- +(The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to YOU!) +But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list, +For they'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed! + + + +Ballad: Girl Graduates + + + +They intend to send a wire +To the moon; +And they'll set the Thames on fire +Very soon; +Then they learn to make silk purses +With their rigs +From the ears of LADY CIRCE'S +Piggy-wigs. +And weasels at their slumbers +They'll trepan; +To get sunbeams from cuCUMbers +They've a plan. +They've a firmly rooted notion +They can cross the Polar Ocean, +And they'll find Perpetual Motion +If they can! + +These are the phenomena +That every pretty domina +Hopes that we shall see +At this Universitee! + +As for fashion, they forswear it, +So they say, +And the circle - they will square it +Some fine day; +Then the little pigs they're teaching +For to fly; +And the niggers they'll be bleaching +By-and-by! +Each newly joined aspirant +To the clan +Must repudiate the tyrant +Known as Man; +They mock at him and flout him, +For they do not care about him, +And they're "going to do without him" +If they can! + +These are the phenomena +That every pretty domina +Hopes that we shall see +At this Universitee! + + + +Ballad: Braid The Raven Hair + + + +Braid the raven hair, +Weave the supple tress, +Deck the maiden fair +In her loveliness; +Paint the pretty face, +Dye the coral lip, +Emphasise the grace +Of her ladyship! +Art and nature, thus allied, +Go to make a pretty bride! + +Sit with downcast eye, +Let it brim with dew; +Try if you can cry, +We will do so, too. +When you're summoned, start +Like a frightened roe; +Flutter, little heart, +Colour, come and go! +Modesty at marriage tide +Well becomes a pretty bride! + + + +Ballad: The Working Monarch + + + +Rising early in the morning, +We proceed to light the fire, +Then our Majesty adorning +In its work-a-day attire, +We embark without delay +On the duties of the day. + +First, we polish off some batches +Of political despatches, +And foreign politicians circumvent; +Then, if business isn't heavy, +We may hold a Royal LEVEE, +Or ratify some Acts of Parliament: +Then we probably review the household troops - +With the usual "Shalloo humps" and "Shalloo hoops!" +Or receive with ceremonial and state +An interesting Eastern Potentate. +After that we generally +Go and dress our private VALET - + +(It's a rather nervous duty - he a touchy little man) - +Write some letters literary +For our private secretary - +(He is shaky in his spelling, so we help him if we can.) +Then, in view of cravings inner, +We go down and order dinner; +Or we polish the Regalia and the Coronation Plate - +Spend an hour in titivating +All our Gentlemen-in-Waiting; +Or we run on little errands for the Ministers of State. +Oh, philosophers may sing +Of the troubles of a King, +Yet the duties are delightful, and the privileges great; +But the privilege and pleasure +That we treasure beyond measure +Is to run on little errands for the Ministers of State! + +After luncheon (making merry +On a bun and glass of sherry), +If we've nothing in particular to do, +We may make a Proclamation, +Or receive a Deputation - +Then we possibly create a Peer or two. +Then we help a fellow-creature on his path +With the Garter or the Thistle or the Bath: +Or we dress and toddle off in semi-State +To a festival, a function, or a FETE. +Then we go and stand as sentry +At the Palace (private entry), +Marching hither, marching thither, up and down and to and fro, +While the warrior on duty +Goes in search of beer and beauty +(And it generally happens that he hasn't far to go). +He relieves us, if he's able, +Just in time to lay the table. + +Then we dine and serve the coffee; and at half-past twelve or one, +With a pleasure that's emphatic; +Then we seek our little attic +With the gratifying feeling that our duty has been done. +Oh, philosophers may sing +Of the troubles of a King, +But of pleasures there are many and of troubles there are none; +And the culminating pleasure +That we treasure beyond measure +Is the gratifying feeling that our duty has been done! + + + +Ballad: The Ape And The Lady + + + +A LADY fair, of lineage high, +Was loved by an Ape, in the days gone by - +The Maid was radiant as the sun, +The Ape was a most unsightly one - +So it would not do - +His scheme fell through; +For the Maid, when his love took formal shape, +Expressed such terror +At his monstrous error, +That he stammered an apology and made his 'scape, +The picture of a disconcerted Ape. + +With a view to rise in the social scale, +He shaved his bristles, and he docked his tail, +He grew moustachios, and he took his tub, +And he paid a guinea to a toilet club. +But it would not do, +The scheme fell through - +For the Maid was Beauty's fairest Queen, +With golden tresses, +Like a real princess's, +While the Ape, despite his razor keen, +Was the apiest Ape that ever was seen! + +He bought white ties, and he bought dress suits, +He crammed his feet into bright tight boots, +And to start his life on a brand-new plan, +He christened himself Darwinian Man! +But it would not do, +The scheme fell through - +For the Maiden fair, whom the monkey craved, +Was a radiant Being, +With a brain far-seeing - +While a Man, however well-behaved, +At best is only a monkey shaved! + + + +Ballad: Only Roses + + + +To a garden full of posies +Cometh one to gather flowers; +And he wanders through its bowers +Toying with the wanton roses, +Who, uprising from their beds, +Hold on high their shameless heads +With their pretty lips a-pouting, +Never doubting - never doubting +That for Cytherean posies +He would gather aught but roses. + +In a nest of weeds and nettles, +Lay a violet, half hidden; +Hoping that his glance unbidden +Yet might fall upon her petals. +Though she lived alone, apart, +Hope lay nestling at her heart, +But, alas! the cruel awaking +Set her little heart a-breaking, +For he gathered for his posies +Only roses - only roses! + + + +Ballad: The Rover's Apology + + + +Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray; +Though I own that my heart has been ranging, +Of nature the laws I obey, +For nature is constantly changing. +The moon in her phases is found, +The time and the wind and the weather, +The months in succession come round, +And you don't find two Mondays together. +Consider the moral, I pray, +Nor bring a young fellow to sorrow, +Who loves this young lady to-day, +And loves that young lady to-morrow! + +You cannot eat breakfast all day. +Nor is it the act of a sinner, +When breakfast is taken away, +To turn your attention to dinner; +And it's not in the range of belief +That you could hold him as a glutton, +Who, when he is tired of beef, +Determines to tackle the mutton. +But this I am ready to say, +If it will diminish their sorrow, +I'll marry this lady to-day, +And I'll marry that lady to-morrow! + + + +Ballad: An Appeal + + + +Oh! is there not one maiden breast +Which does not feel the moral beauty +Of making worldly interest +Subordinate to sense of duty? +Who would not give up willingly +All matrimonial ambition +To rescue such a one as I +From his unfortunate position? + +Oh, is there not one maiden here, +Whose homely face and bad complexion +Have caused all hopes to disappear +Of ever winning man's affection? +To such a one, if such there be, +I swear by heaven's arch above you, +If you will cast your eyes on me, - +However plain you be - I'll love you! + + + +Ballad: The Reward Of Merit + + + +DR. BELVILLE was regarded as the CRICHTON of his age: +His tragedies were reckoned much too thoughtful for the stage; +His poems held a noble rank, although it's very true +That, being very proper, they were read by very few. +He was a famous Painter, too, and shone upon the "line," +And even MR. RUSKIN came and worshipped at his shrine; +But, alas, the school he followed was heroically high - +The kind of Art men rave about, but very seldom buy; +And everybody said +"How can he be repaid - +This very great - this very good - this very gifted man?" +But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan! + +He was a great Inventor, and discovered, all alone, +A plan for making everybody's fortune but his own; +For, in business, an Inventor's little better than a fool, +And my highly-gifted friend was no exception to the rule. +His poems - people read them in the Quarterly Reviews - +His pictures - they engraved them in the ILLUSTRATED NEWS - +His inventions - they, perhaps, might have enriched him by degrees, +But all his little income went in Patent Office fees; +And everybody said +"How can he be repaid - +This very great - this very good - this very gifted man?" +But nobody could hit upon a practicable plan! + +At last the point was given up in absolute despair, +When a distant cousin died, and he became a millionaire, +With a county seat in Parliament, a moor or two of grouse, +And a taste for making inconvenient speeches in the House! +THEN it flashed upon Britannia that the fittest of rewards +Was, to take him from the Commons and to put him in the Lords! +And who so fit to sit in it, deny it if you can, +As this very great - this very good - this very gifted man? +(Though I'm more than half afraid +That it sometimes may be said +That we never should have revelled in that source of proper pride, +However great his merits - if his cousin hadn't died!) + + + +Ballad: The Magnet And The Churn + + + +A MAGNET hung in a hardware shop, +And all around was a loving crop +Of scissors and needles, nails and knives, +Offering love for all their lives; +But for iron the Magnet felt no whim, +Though he charmed iron, it charmed not him, +From needles and nails and knives he'd turn, +For he'd set his love on a Silver Churn! +His most aesthetic, +Very magnetic +Fancy took this turn - +"If I can wheedle +A knife or needle, +Why not a Silver Churn?" + +And Iron and Steel expressed surprise, +The needles opened their well-drilled eyes, +The pen-knives felt "shut up," no doubt, +The scissors declared themselves "cut out," +The kettles they boiled with rage, 'tis said, +While every nail went off its head, +And hither and thither began to roam, +Till a hammer came up - and drove it home, +While this magnetic +Peripatetic +Lover he lived to learn, +By no endeavour, +Can Magnet ever +Attract a Silver Churn! + + + +Ballad: The Family Fool + + + +Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon, +If you listen to popular rumour; +From morning to night he's so joyous and bright, +And he bubbles with wit and good humour! +He's so quaint and so terse, both in prose and in verse; +Yet though people forgive his transgression, +There are one or two rules that all Family Fools +Must observe, if they love their profession. +There are one or two rules, +Half-a-dozen, maybe, +That all family fools, +Of whatever degree, +Must observe if they love their profession. + +If you wish to succeed as a jester, you'll need +To consider each person's auricular: +What is all right for B would quite scandalise C +(For C is so very particular); +And D may be dull, and E's very thick skull +Is as empty of brains as a ladle; +While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carp, +That he's known your best joke from his cradle! +When your humour they flout, +You can't let yourself go; +And it DOES put you out +When a person says, "Oh! +I have known that old joke from my cradle!" + +If your master is surly, from getting up early +(And tempers are short in the morning), +An inopportune joke is enough to provoke +Him to give you, at once, a month's warning. +Then if you refrain, he is at you again, +For he likes to get value for money: +He'll ask then and there, with an insolent stare, +"If you know that you're paid to be funny?" +It adds to the tasks +Of a merryman's place, +When your principal asks, +With a scowl on his face, +If you know that you're paid to be funny? + +Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D. - +Oh, beware of his anger provoking! +Better not pull his hair - don't stick pins in his chair; +He won't understand practical joking. +If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack, +You may get a bland smile from these sages; +But should it, by chance, be imported from France, +Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages! +It's a general rule, +Though your zeal it may quench, +If the Family Fool +Makes a joke that's TOO French, +Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages! + +Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack, +And your senses with toothache you're losing, +And you're mopy and flat - they don't fine you for that +If you're properly quaint and amusing! +Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day, +And took with her your trifle of money; +Bless your heart, they don't mind - they're exceedingly kind - +They don't blame you - as long as you're funny! +It's a comfort to feel +If your partner should flit, +Though YOU suffer a deal, +THEY don't mind it a bit - +They don't blame you - so long as you're funny! + + + +Ballad: Sans Souci + + + +I cannot tell what this love may be +That cometh to all but not to me. +It cannot be kind as they'd imply, +Or why do these gentle ladies sigh? +It cannot be joy and rapture deep, +Or why do these gentle ladies weep? +It cannot be blissful, as 'tis said, +Or why are their eyes so wondrous red? + +If love is a thorn, they show no wit +Who foolishly hug and foster it. +If love is a weed, how simple they +Who gather and gather it, day by day! +If love is a nettle that makes you smart, +Why do you wear it next your heart? +And if it be neither of these, say I, +Why do you sit and sob and sigh? + + + +Ballad: A Recipe + + + +Take a pair of sparkling eyes, +Hidden, ever and anon, +In a merciful eclipse - +Do not heed their mild surprise - +Having passed the Rubicon. +Take a pair of rosy lips; +Take a figure trimly planned - +Such as admiration whets +(Be particular in this); +Take a tender little hand, +Fringed with dainty fingerettes, +Press it - in parenthesis; - +Take all these, you lucky man - +Take and keep them, if you can. + +Take a pretty little cot - +Quite a miniature affair - +Hung about with trellised vine, +Furnish it upon the spot +With the treasures rich and rare +I've endeavoured to define. +Live to love and love to live - +You will ripen at your ease, +Growing on the sunny side - +Fate has nothing more to give. +You're a dainty man to please +If you are not satisfied. +Take my counsel, happy man: +Act upon it, if you can! + + + +Ballad: The Merryman And His Maid + + + +[HE] I have a song to sing, O! +[SHE] Sing me your song, O! +[HE] It is sung to the moon +By a love-lorn loon, +Who fled from the mocking throng, O! +It's the song of a merryman, moping mum, +Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum, +Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye. +Heighdy! heighdy! +Misery me - lackadaydee! +He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye! + +[SHE] I have a song to sing, O! +[HE] Sing me your song, O! +[SHE] It is sung with the ring +Of the song maids sing +Who love with a love life-long, O! +It's the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud, +Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloud +At the moan of the merryman, moping mum, +Whose soul was sore, whose glance was glum, +Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye! +Heighdy! heighdy! +Misery me - lackadaydee! +He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye! + +[HE] I have a song to sing, O! +[SHE] Sing me your song, O! +[HE] It is sung to the knell +Of a churchyard bell, +And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O! +It's a song of a popinjay, bravely born, +Who turned up his noble nose with scorn +At the humble merrymaid, peerly proud, +Who loved that lord, and who laughed aloud +At the moan of the merryman, moping mum, +Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum, +Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye! +Heighdy! heighdy! +Misery me - lackadaydee! +He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye! + +[SHE] I have a song to sing, O! +[HE] Sing me your song, O! +[SHE] It is sung with a sigh +And a tear in the eye, +For it tells of a righted wrong, O! +It's a song of a merrymaid, once so gay, +Who turned on her heel and tripped away +From the peacock popinjay, bravely born, +Who turned up his noble nose with scorn +At the humble heart that he did not prize; +And it tells how she begged, with downcast eyes, +For the love of a merryman, moping mum, +Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum, +Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb, +As he sighed for the love of a ladye! +[BOTH] Heighdy! heighdy! +Misery me - lackadaydee! +His pains were o'er, and he sighed no more. +For he lived in the love of a ladye! + + + +Ballad: The Susceptible Chancellor + + + +The law is the true embodiment +Of everything that's excellent. +It has no kind of fault or flaw, +And I, my lords, embody the Law. +The constitutional guardian I +Of pretty young Wards in Chancery, +All very agreeable girls - and none +Is over the age of twenty-one. +A pleasant occupation for +A rather susceptible Chancellor! + +But though the compliment implied +Inflates me with legitimate pride, +It nevertheless can't be denied +That it has its inconvenient side. +For I'm not so old, and not so plain, +And I'm quite prepared to marry again, +But there'd be the deuce to pay in the Lords +If I fell in love with one of my Wards: +Which rather tries my temper, for +I'm SUCH a susceptible Chancellor! + +And every one who'd marry a Ward +Must come to me for my accord: +So in my court I sit all day, +Giving agreeable girls away, +With one for him - and one for he - +And one for you - and one for ye - +And one for thou - and one for thee - +But never, oh never a one for me! +Which is exasperating, for +A highly susceptible Chancellor! + + + +Ballad: When A Merry Maiden Marries + + + +When a merry maiden marries, +Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries; +Every sound becomes a song, +All is right and nothing's wrong! +From to-day and ever after +Let your tears be tears of laughter - +Every sigh that finds a vent +Be a sigh of sweet content! +When you marry merry maiden, +Then the air with love is laden; +Every flower is a rose, +Every goose becomes a swan, +Every kind of trouble goes +Where the last year's snows have gone; +Sunlight takes the place of shade +When you marry merry maid! + +When a merry maiden marries +Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries; +Every sound becomes a song, +All is right, and nothing's wrong. +Gnawing Care and aching Sorrow, +Get ye gone until to-morrow; +Jealousies in grim array, +Ye are things of yesterday! +When you marry merry maiden, +Then the air with joy is laden; +All the corners of the earth +Ring with music sweetly played, +Worry is melodious mirth, +Grief is joy in masquerade; +Sullen night is laughing day - +All the year is merry May! + + + +Ballad: The British Tar + + + +A British tar is a soaring soul, +As free as a mountain bird, +His energetic fist should be ready to resist +A dictatorial word. +His nose should pant and his lip should curl, +His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl, +His bosom should heave and his heart should glow, +And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow. + +His eyes should flash with an inborn fire, +His brow with scorn be rung; +He never should bow down to a domineering frown, +Or the tang of a tyrant tongue. +His foot should stamp and his throat should growl, +His hair should twirl and his face should scowl; +His eyes should flash and his breast protrude, +And this should be his customary attitude! + + + +Ballad: A Man Who Would Woo A Fair Maid + + + +A man who would woo a fair maid, +Should 'prentice himself to the trade; +And study all day, +In methodical way, +How to flatter, cajole, and persuade. +He should 'prentice himself at fourteen +And practise from morning to e'en; +And when he's of age, +If he will, I'll engage, +He may capture the heart of a queen! +It is purely a matter of skill, +Which all may attain if they will: +But every Jack +He must study the knack +If he wants to make sure of his Jill! + +If he's made the best use of his time, +His twig he'll so carefully lime +That every bird +Will come down at his word. +Whatever its plumage and clime. +He must learn that the thrill of a touch +May mean little, or nothing, or much; +It's an instrument rare, +To be handled with care, +And ought to be treated as such. +It is purely a matter of skill, +Which all may attain if they will: +But every Jack, +He must study the knack +If he wants to make sure of his Jill! + +Then a glance may be timid or free; +It will vary in mighty degree, +From an impudent stare +To a look of despair +That no maid without pity can see. +And a glance of despair is no guide - +It may have its ridiculous side; +It may draw you a tear +Or a box on the ear; +You can never be sure till you've tried. +It is purely a matter of skill, +Which all may attain if they will: +But every Jack +He must study the knack +If he wants to make sure of his Jill! + + + +Ballad: The Sorcerer's Song + + + +Oh! my name is JOHN WELLINGTON WELLS - +I'm a dealer in magic and spells, +In blessings and curses, +And ever-filled purses, +In prophecies, witches, and knells! +If you want a proud foe to "make tracks" - +If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax - +You've but to look in +On our resident Djinn, +Number seventy, Simmery Axe. + +We've a first-class assortment of magic; +And for raising a posthumous shade +With effects that are comic or tragic, +There's no cheaper house in the trade. +Love-philtre - we've quantities of it; +And for knowledge if any one burns, +We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet +Who brings us unbounded returns: +For he can prophesy +With a wink OF his eye, +Peep with security +Into futurity, +Sum up your history, +Clear up a mystery, +Humour proclivity +For a nativity. +With mirrors so magical, +Tetrapods tragical, +Bogies spectacular, +Answers oracular, +Facts astronomical, +Solemn or comical, +And, if you want it, he +Makes a reduction on taking a quantity! +Oh! +If any one anything lacks, +He'll find it all ready in stacks, +If he'll only look in +On the resident Djinn, +Number seventy, Simmery Axe! + +He can raise you hosts, +Of ghosts, +And that without reflectors; +And creepy things +With wings, +And gaunt and grisly spectres! +He can fill you crowds +Of shrouds, +And horrify you vastly; +He can rack your brains +With chains, +And gibberings grim and ghastly. +Then, if you plan it, he +Changes organity +With an urbanity, +Full of Satanity, +Vexes humanity +With an inanity +Fatal to vanity - +Driving your foes to the verge of insanity. +Barring tautology, +In demonology, +'Lectro biology, +Mystic nosology, +Spirit philology, +High class astrology, +Such is his knowledge, he +Isn't the man to require an apology +Oh! +My name is JOHN WELLINGTON WELLS, +I'm a dealer in magic and spells, +In blessings and curses, +And ever-filled purses - +In prophecies, witches, and knells. +If any one anything lacks, +He'll find it all ready in stacks, +If he'll only look in +On the resident Djinn, +Number seventy, Simmery Axe! + + + +Ballad: The Fickle Breeze + + + +Sighing softly to the river +Comes the loving breeze, +Setting nature all a-quiver, +Rustling through the trees! +And the brook in rippling measure +Laughs for very love, +While the poplars, in their pleasure, +Wave their arms above! +River, river, little river, +May thy loving prosper ever. +Heaven speed thee, poplar tree, +May thy wooing happy be! + +Yet, the breeze is but a rover, +When he wings away, +Brook and poplar mourn a lover! +Sighing well-a-day! +Ah, the doing and undoing +That the rogue could tell! +When the breeze is out a-wooing, +Who can woo so well? +Pretty brook, thy dream is over, +For thy love is but a rover! +Sad the lot of poplar trees, +Courted by the fickle breeze! + + + +Ballad: The First Lord's Song + + + +When I was a lad I served a term +As office boy to an Attorney's firm; +I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor, +And I polished up the handle of the big front door. +I polished up that handle so successfullee, +That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee! + +As office boy I made such a mark +That they gave me the post of a junior clerk; +I served the writs with a smile so bland, +And I copied all the letters in a big round hand. +I copied all the letters in a hand so free, +That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee! + +In serving writs I made such a name +That an articled clerk I soon became; +I wore clean collars and a brand-new suit +For the Pass Examination at the Institute: +And that Pass Examination did so well for me, +That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee! + +Of legal knowledge I acquired such a grip +That they took me into the partnership, +And that junior partnership I ween, +Was the only ship that I ever had seen: +But that kind of ship so suited me, +That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee! + +I grew so rich that I was sent +By a pocket borough into Parliament; +I always voted at my Party's call, +And I never thought of thinking for myself at all. +I thought so little, they rewarded me, +By making me the Ruler of the Queen's Navee! + +Now, landsmen all, whoever you may be, +If you want to rise to the top of the tree - +If your soul isn't fettered to an office stool, +Be careful to be guided by this golden rule - +Stick close to your desks and NEVER GO TO SEA, +And you all may be Rulers of the Queen's Navee! + + + +Ballad: Would You Know? + + + +Would you know the kind of maid +Sets my heart a flame-a? +Eyes must be downcast and staid, +Cheeks must flush for shame-a! +She may neither dance nor sing, +But, demure in everything, +Hang her head in modest way +With pouting lips that seem to say, +"Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, +Though I die of shame-a!" +Please you, that's the kind of maid +Sets my heart a flame-a! + +When a maid is bold and gay +With a tongue goes clang-a, +Flaunting it in brave array, +Maiden may go hang-a! +Sunflower gay and hollyhock +Never shall my garden stock; +Mine the blushing rose of May, +With pouting lips that seem to say +"Oh, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, +Though I die for shame-a!" +Please you, that's the kind of maid +Sets my heart a flame-a! + + + +Ballad: Speculation + + + +Comes a train of little ladies +From scholastic trammels free, +Each a little bit afraid is, +Wondering what the world can be! + +Is it but a world of trouble - +Sadness set to song? +Is its beauty but a bubble +Bound to break ere long? + +Are its palaces and pleasures +Fantasies that fade? +And the glory of its treasures +Shadow of a shade? + +Schoolgirls we, eighteen and under, +From scholastic trammels free, +And we wonder - how we wonder! - +What on earth the world can be! + + + +Ballad: Ah Me! + + + +When maiden loves, she sits and sighs, +She wanders to and fro; +Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes, +And to all questions she replies, +With a sad heigho! +'Tis but a little word - "heigho!" +So soft, 'tis scarcely heard - "heigho!" +An idle breath - +Yet life and death +May hang upon a maid's "heigho!" + +When maiden loves, she mopes apart, +As owl mopes on a tree; +Although she keenly feels the smart, +She cannot tell what ails her heart, +With its sad "Ah me!" +'Tis but a foolish sigh - "Ah me!" +Born but to droop and die - "Ah me!" +Yet all the sense +Of eloquence +Lies hidden in a maid's "Ah me!" + + + +Ballad: The Duke Of Plaza-Toro + + + +In enterprise of martial kind, +When there was any fighting, +He led his regiment from behind +(He found it less exciting). +But when away his regiment ran, +His place was at the fore, O- +That celebrated, +Cultivated, +Underrated +Nobleman, +The Duke of Plaza-Toro! +In the first and foremost flight, ha, ha! +You always found that knight, ha, ha! +That celebrated, +Cultivated, +Underrated +Nobleman, +The Duke of Plaza-Toro! + +When, to evade Destruction's hand, +To hide they all proceeded, +No soldier in that gallant band +Hid half as well as he did. +He lay concealed throughout the war, +And so preserved his gore, O! +That unaffected, +Undetected, +Well connected +Warrior, +The Duke of Plaza-Toro! +In every doughty deed, ha, ha! +He always took the lead, ha, ha! +That unaffected, +Undetected, +Well connected +Warrior, +The Duke of Plaza-Toro! + +When told that they would all be shot +Unless they left the service, +That hero hesitated not, +So marvellous his nerve is. +He sent his resignation in, +The first of all his corps, O! +That very knowing, +Overflowing, +Easy-going +Paladin, +The Duke of Plaza-Toro! +To men of grosser clay, ha, ha! +He always showed the way, ha, ha! +That very knowing, +Overflowing, +Easy-going +Paladin, +The Duke of Plaza-Toro! + + + +Ballad: The Aesthete + + + +If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line, as a man +of culture rare, +You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and +plant them everywhere. +You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of +your complicated state of mind +(The meaning doesn't matter if it's only idle chatter of a +transcendental kind). +And every one will say, +As you walk your mystic way, +"If this young man expresses himself in terms too deep for ME, +Why, what a very singularly deep young man this deep young man must +be!" + +Be eloquent in praise of the very dull old days which have long +since passed away, +And convince 'em, if you can, that the reign of good QUEEN ANNE was +Culture's palmiest day. +Of course you will pooh-pooh whatever's fresh and new, and declare +it's crude and mean, +And that Art stopped short in the cultivated court of the EMPRESS +JOSEPHINE. +And every one will say, +As you walk your mystic way, +"If that's not good enough for him which is good enough for ME, +Why, what a very cultivated kind of youth this kind of youth must +be!" + +Then a sentimental passion of a vegetable fashion must excite your +languid spleen, +An attachment E LA Plato for a bashful young potato, or a not-too- +French French bean. +Though the Philistines may jostle, you will rank as an apostle in +the high aesthetic band, +If you walk down Piccadilly with a poppy or a lily in your +mediaeval hand. +And every one will say, +As you walk your flowery way, +"If he's content with a vegetable love which would certainly not +suit ME, +Why, what a most particularly pure young man this pure young man +must be!" + + + +Ballad: Said I To Myself, Said I + + + +When I went to the Bar as a very young man +(Said I to myself - said I), +I'll work on a new and original plan +(Said I to myself - said I), +I'll never assume that a rogue or a thief +Is a gentleman worthy implicit belief, +Because his attorney, has sent me a brief +(Said I to myself - said I!) + +I'll never throw dust in a juryman's eyes +(Said I to myself - said I), +Or hoodwink a judge who is not over-wise +(Said I to myself - said I), +Or assume that the witnesses summoned in force +In Exchequer, Queen's Bench, Common Pleas, or Divorce, +Have perjured themselves as a matter of course +(Said I to myself - said I!) + +Ere I go into court I will read my brief through +(Said I to myself - said I), +And I'll never take work I'm unable to do +(Said I to myself - said I). +My learned profession I'll never disgrace +By taking a fee with a grin on my face, +When I haven't been there to attend to the case +(Said I to myself - said I!) + +In other professions in which men engage +(Said I to myself - said I), +The Army, the Navy, the Church, and the Stage, +(Said I to myself - said I), +Professional licence, if carried too far, +Your chance of promotion will certainly mar - +And I fancy the rule might apply to the Bar +(Said I to myself - said I!) + + + +Ballad: Sorry Her Lot + + + +Sorry her lot who loves too well, +Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly, +Sad are the sighs that own the spell +Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly; +Heavy the sorrow that bows the head +When Love is alive and Hope is dead! + +Sad is the hour when sets the Sun - +Dark is the night to Earth's poor daughters, +When to the ark the wearied one +Flies from the empty waste of waters! +Heavy the sorrow that bows the head +When Love is alive and Hope is dead! + + + +Ballad: The Contemplative Sentry + + + +When all night long a chap remains +On sentry-go, to chase monotony +He exercises of his brains, +That is, assuming that he's got any. +Though never nurtured in the lap +Of luxury, yet I admonish you, +I am an intellectual chap, +And think of things that would astonish you. +I often think it's comical +How Nature always does contrive +That every boy and every gal, +That's born into the world alive, +Is either a little Liberal, +Or else a little Conservative! +Fal lal la! + +When in that house M.P.'s divide, +If they've a brain and cerebellum, too, +They've got to leave that brain outside, +And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to. +But then the prospect of a lot +Of statesmen, all in close proximity, +A-thinking for themselves, is what +No man can face with equanimity. +Then let's rejoice with loud Fal lal +That Nature wisely does contrive +That every boy and every gal, +That's born into the world alive, +Is either a little Liberal, +Or else a little Conservative! +Fal lal la! + + + +Ballad: The Philosophic Pill + + + +I've wisdom from the East and from the West, +That's subject to no academic rule; +You may find it in the jeering of a jest, +Or distil it from the folly of a fool. +I can teach you with a quip, if I've a mind; +I can trick you into learning with a laugh; +Oh, winnow all my folly, and you'll find +A grain or two of truth among the chaff! + +I can set a braggart quailing with a quip, +The upstart I can wither with a whim; +He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip, +But his laughter has an echo that is grim. +When they've offered to the world in merry guise, +Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will - +For he who'd make his fellow-creatures wise +Should always gild the philosophic pill! + + + +Ballad: Blue Blood + + + +Spurn not the nobly born +With love affected, +Nor treat with virtuous scorn +The well connected. +High rank involves no shame - +We boast an equal claim +With him of humble name +To be respected! +Blue blood! Blue blood! +When virtuous love is sought, +Thy power is naught, +Though dating from the Flood, +Blue blood! + +Spare us the bitter pain +Of stern denials, +Nor with low-born disdain +Augment our trials. +Hearts just as pure and fair +May beat in Belgrave Square +As in the lowly air +Of Seven Dials! +Blue blood! Blue blood! +Of what avail art thou +To serve me now? +Though dating from the Flood, +Blue blood! + + + +Ballad: The Judge's Song + + + +When I, good friends, was called to the Bar, +I'd an appetite fresh and hearty, +But I was, as many young barristers are, +An impecunious party. +I'd a swallow-tail coat of a beautiful blue - +A brief which was brought by a booby - +A couple of shirts and a collar or two, +And a ring that looked like a ruby! + +In Westminster Hall I danced a dance, +Like a semi-despondent fury; +For I thought I should never hit on a chance +Of addressing a British Jury - +But I soon got tired of third-class journeys, +And dinners of bread and water; +So I fell in love with a rich attorney's +Elderly, ugly daughter. + +The rich attorney, he wiped his eyes, +And replied to my fond professions: +"You shall reap the reward of your enterprise, +At the Bailey and Middlesex Sessions. +You'll soon get used to her looks," said he, +"And a very nice girl you'll find her - +She may very well pass for forty-three +In the dusk, with a light behind her!" + +The rich attorney was as good as his word: +The briefs came trooping gaily, +And every day my voice was heard +At the Sessions or Ancient Bailey. +All thieves who could my fees afford +Relied on my orations, +And many a burglar I've restored +To his friends and his relations. + +At length I became as rich as the GURNEYS - +An incubus then I thought her, +So I threw over that rich attorney's +Elderly, ugly daughter. +The rich attorney my character high +Tried vainly to disparage - +And now, if you please, I'm ready to try +This Breach of Promise of Marriage! + + + +Ballad: When I First Put This Uniform On + + + +When I first put this uniform on, +I said, as I looked in the glass, +"It's one to a million +That any civilian +My figure and form will surpass. +Gold lace has a charm for the fair, +And I've plenty of that, and to spare, +While a lover's professions, +When uttered in Hessians, +Are eloquent everywhere!" +A fact that I counted upon, +When I first put this uniform on! + +I said, when I first put it on, +"It is plain to the veriest dunce +That every beauty +Will feel it her duty +To yield to its glamour at once. +They will see that I'm freely gold-laced +In a uniform handsome and chaste" - +But the peripatetics +Of long-haired aesthetics, +Are very much more to their taste - +Which I never counted upon +When I first put this uniform on! + + + +Ballad: Solatium + + + +Comes the broken flower - +Comes the cheated maid - +Though the tempest lower, +Rain and cloud will fade! +Take, O maid, these posies: +Though thy beauty rare +Shame the blushing roses, +They are passing fair! +Wear the flowers till they fade; +Happy be thy life, O maid! + +O'er the season vernal, +Time may cast a shade; +Sunshine, if eternal, +Makes the roses fade: +Time may do his duty; +Let the thief alone - +Winter hath a beauty +That is all his own. +Fairest days are sun and shade: +Happy be thy life, O maid! + + + +Ballad: A Nightmare + + + +When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is +taboo'd by anxiety, +I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in +without impropriety; +For your brain is on fire - the bedclothes conspire of usual +slumber to plunder you: +First your counterpane goes and uncovers your toes, and your sheet +slips demurely from under you; +Then the blanketing tickles - you feel like mixed pickles, so +terribly sharp is the pricking, +And you're hot, and you're cross, and you tumble and toss till +there's nothing 'twixt you and the ticking. +Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap, and you pick +'em all up in a tangle; +Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to remain at its +usual angle! +Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with hot eyeballs +and head ever aching, +But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams that you'd very +much better be waking; +For you dream you are crossing the Channel, and tossing about in a +steamer from Harwich, +Which is something between a large bathing-machine and a very small +second-class carriage; +And you're giving a treat (penny ice and cold meat) to a party of +friends and relations - +They're a ravenous horde - and they all came on board at Sloane +Square and South Kensington Stations. +And bound on that journey you find your attorney (who started that +morning from Devon); +He's a bit undersized, and you don't feel surprised when he tells +you he's only eleven. +Well, you're driving like mad with this singular lad (by the bye +the ship's now a four-wheeler), +And you're playing round games, and he calls you bad names when you +tell him that "ties pay the dealer"; +But this you can't stand, so you throw up your hand, and you find +you're as cold as an icicle, +In your shirt and your socks (the black silk with gold clocks), +crossing Salisbury Plain on a bicycle: +And he and the crew are on bicycles too - which they've somehow or +other invested in - +And he's telling the tars all the particuLARS of a company he's +interested in - +It's a scheme of devices, to get at low prices, all goods from +cough mixtures to cables +(Which tickled the sailors) by treating retailers, as though they +were all vegeTAbles - +You get a good spadesman to plant a small tradesman (first take off +his boots with a boot-tree), +And his legs will take root, and his fingers will shoot, and +they'll blossom and bud like a fruit-tree - +From the greengrocer tree you get grapes and green pea, +cauliflower, pineapple, and cranberries, +While the pastry-cook plant cherry-brandy will grant - apple puffs, +and three-corners, and banberries - +The shares are a penny, and ever so many are taken by ROTHSCHILD +and BARING, +And just as a few are allotted to you, you awake with a shudder +despairing - +You're a regular wreck, with a crick in your neck, and no wonder +you snore, for your head's on the floor, and you've needles and +pins from your soles to your shins, and your flesh is a-creep, for +your left leg's asleep, and you've cramp in your toes, and a fly on +your nose, and some fluff in your lung, and a feverish tongue, and +a thirst that's intense, and a general sense that you haven't been +sleeping in clover; +But the darkness has passed, and it's daylight at last, and the +night has been long - ditto, ditto my song - and thank goodness +they're both of them over! + + + +Ballad: Don't Forget! + + + +Now, Marco, dear, +My wishes hear: +While you're away +It's understood +You will be good, +And not too gay. +To every trace +Of maiden grace +You will be blind, +And will not glance +By any chance +On womankind! +If you are wise, +You'll shut your eyes +Till we arrive, +And not address +A lady less +Than forty-five; +You'll please to frown +On every gown +That you may see; +And O, my pet, +You won't forget +You've married me! + +O, my darling, O, my pet, +Whatever else you may forget, +In yonder isle beyond the sea, +O, don't forget you've married me! + +You'll lay your head +Upon your bed +At set of sun. +You will not sing +Of anything +To any one: +You'll sit and mope +All day, I hope, +And shed a tear +Upon the life +Your little wife +Is passing here! +And if so be +You think of me, +Please tell the moon; +I'll read it all +In rays that fall +On the lagoon: +You'll be so kind +As tell the wind +How you may be, +And send me words +By little birds +To comfort me! + +And O, my darling, O, my pet, +Whatever else you may forget, +In yonder isle beyond the sea, +O, don't forget you've married me! + + + +Ballad: The Suicide's Grave + + + +On a tree by a river a little tomtit +Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!" +And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit +Singing 'Willow, titwillow, titwillow'? +Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried, +"Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?" +With a shake of his poor little head he replied, +"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!" + +He slapped at his chest, as he sat on that bough, +Singing "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!" +And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow, +Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow! +He sobbed and he sighed, and a gurgle he gave, +Then he threw himself into the billowy wave, +And an echo arose from the suicide's grave - +"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!" + +Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name +Isn't Willow, titwillow, titwillow, +That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim, +"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!" +And if you remain callous and obdurate, I +Shall perish as he did, and you will know why, +Though I probably shall not exclaim as I die, +"Oh, willow, titwillow, titwillow!" + + + +Ballad: He And She + + + +[HE.] I know a youth who loves a little maid - +(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!) +Silent is he, for he's modest and afraid - +(Hey, but he's timid as a youth can be!) +[SHE.] I know a maid who loves a gallant youth - +(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!) +SHE cannot tell him all the sad, sad truth - +(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!) +[BOTH.] Now tell me pray, and tell me true, +What in the world should the poor soul do? + +[HE.] He cannot eat and he cannot sleep - +(Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!) +Daily he goes for to wail - for to weep - +(Hey, but he's wretched as a youth can be!) +[SHE.] She's very thin and she's very pale - +(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!) +Daily she goes for to weep - for to wail - +(Hey, but I think that little maid will die!) +[BOTH.] Now tell me pray, and tell me true, +What in the world should the poor soul do? + +[SHE.] If I were the youth I should offer her my name - +(Hey, but her face is a sight for to see!) +[HE.] If I were the maid I should fan his honest flame - +(Hey, but he's bashful as a youth can be!) +[SHE.] If I were the youth I should speak to her to-day - +(Hey, but she sickens as the days go by!) +[HE.] If I were the maid I should meet the lad half way - +(For I really do believe that timid youth will die!) +[BOTH.] I thank you much for your counsel true; +I've learnt what that poor soul ought to do! + + + +Ballad: The Mighty Must + + + +Come mighty Must! +Inevitable Shall! +In thee I trust. +Time weaves my coronal! +Go mocking Is! +Go disappointing Was! +That I am this +Ye are the cursed cause! +Yet humble Second shall be First, +I ween; +And dead and buried be the curst +Has Been! + +Oh weak Might Be! +Oh May, Might, Could, Would, Should! +How powerless ye +For evil or for good! +In every sense +Your moods I cheerless call, +Whate'er your tense +Ye are Imperfect, all! +Ye have deceived the trust I've shown +In ye! +Away! The Mighty Must alone +Shall be! + + + +Ballad: A Mirage + + + +Were I thy bride, +Then the whole world beside +Were not too wide +To hold my wealth of love - +Were I thy bride! +Upon thy breast +My loving head would rest, +As on her nest +The tender turtle-dove - +Were I thy bride! + +This heart of mine +Would be one heart with thine, +And in that shrine +Our happiness would dwell - +Were I thy bride! +And all day long +Our lives should be a song: +No grief, no wrong +Should make my heart rebel - +Were I thy bride! + +The silvery flute, +The melancholy lute, +Were night-owl's hoot +To my low-whispered coo - +Were I thy bride! +The skylark's trill +Were but discordance shrill +To the soft thrill +Of wooing as I'd woo - +Were I thy bride! + +The rose's sigh +Were as a carrion's cry +To lullaby +Such as I'd sing to thee - +Were I thy bride! +A feather's press +Were leaden heaviness +To my caress. +But then, unhappily, +I'm not thy bride! + + + +Ballad: The Ghosts' High Noon + + + +When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in the +moonlight flies, +And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight skies +- +When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogs +bay the moon, +Then is the spectres' holiday - then is the ghosts' high noon! + +As the sob of the breeze sweeps over the trees, and the mists lie +low on the fen, +From grey tombstones are gathered the bones that once were women +and men, +And away they go, with a mop and a mow, to the revel that ends too +soon, +For cockcrow limits our holiday - the dead of the night's high +noon! + +And then each ghost with his ladye-toast to their churchyard beds +take flight, +With a kiss, perhaps, on her lantern chaps, and a grisly grim "good +night"; +Till the welcome knell of the midnight bell rings forth its +jolliest tune, +And ushers our next high holiday - the dead of the night's high +noon! + + + +Ballad: The Humane Mikado + + + +A more humane Mikado never +Did in Japan exist; +To nobody second, +I'm certainly reckoned +A true philanthropist. +It is my very humane endeavour +To make, to some extent, +Each evil liver +A running river +Of harmless merriment. + +My object all sublime +I shall achieve in time - +To let the punishment fit the crime - +The punishment fit the crime; +And make each prisoner pent +Unwillingly represent +A source of innocent merriment - +Of innocent merriment! + +All prosy dull society sinners, +Who chatter and bleat and bore, +Are sent to hear sermons +From mystical Germans +Who preach from ten to four: +The amateur tenor, whose vocal villainies +All desire to shirk, +Shall, during off-hours, +Exhibit his powers +To Madame Tussaud's waxwork: +The lady who dyes a chemical yellow, +Or stains her grey hair puce, +Or pinches her figger, +Is blacked like a nigger +With permanent walnut juice: +The idiot who, in railway carriages, +Scribbles on window panes, +We only suffer +To ride on a buffer +In Parliamentary trains. + +My object all sublime +I shall achieve in time - +To let the punishment fit the crime - +The punishment fit the crime; +And make each prisoner pent +Unwillingly represent +A source of innocent merriment - +Of innocent merriment! + +The advertising quack who wearies +With tales of countless cures, +His teeth, I've enacted, +Shall all be extracted +By terrified amateurs: +The music-hall singer attends a series +Of masses and fugues and "ops" +By Bach, interwoven +With Spohr and Beethoven, +At classical Monday Pops: +The billiard sharp whom any one catches +His doom's extremely hard - +He's made to dwell +In a dungeon cell +On a spot that's always barred; +And there he plays extravagant matches +In fitless finger-stalls, +On a cloth untrue +With a twisted cue, +And elliptical billiard balls! + +My object all sublime +I shall achieve in time - +To let the punishment fit the crime - +The punishment fit the crime; +And make each prisoner pent +Unwillingly represent +A source of innocent merriment, +Of innocent merriment! + + + +Ballad: Willow Waly! + + + +[HE.] PRITHEE, pretty maiden - prithee, tell me true +(Hey, but I'm doleful, willow, willow waly!) +Have you e'er a lover a-dangling after you? +Hey, willow waly O! +I would fain discover +If you have a lover? +Hey, willow waly O! + +[SHE.] Gentle sir, my heart is frolicsome and free - +(Hey, but he's doleful, willow, willow waly!) +Nobody I care for comes a-courting me - +Hey, willow waly O! +Nobody I care for +Comes a-courting - therefore, +Hey, willow waly O! + +[HE.] Prithee, pretty maiden, will you marry me? +(Hey, but I'm hopeful, willow, willow waly!) +I may say, at once, I'm a man of propertee - +Hey, willow waly O! +Money, I despise it, +But many people prize it, +Hey, willow waly O! + +[SHE.] Gentle sir, although to marry I design - +(Hey, but he's hopeful, willow, willow waly!) +As yet I do not know you, and so I must decline. +Hey, willow waly O! +To other maidens go you - +As yet I do not know you, +Hey, willow waly O! + + + +Ballad: Life Is Lovely All The Year + + + +When the buds are blossoming, +Smiling welcome to the spring, +Lovers choose a wedding day - +Life is love in merry May! + +Spring is green - Fal lal la! +Summer's rose - Fal lal la! +It is sad when Summer goes, +Fal la! +Autumn's gold - Fal lal la! +Winter's grey - Fal lal la! +Winter still is far away - +Fal la! +Leaves in Autumn fade and fall; +Winter is the end of all. +Spring and summer teem with glee: +Spring and summer, then, for me! +Fal la! + +In the Spring-time seed is sown: +In the Summer grass is mown: +In the Autumn you may reap: +Winter is the time for sleep. + +Spring is hope - Fal lal la! +Summer's joy - Fal lal la! +Spring and Summer never cloy, +Fal la! +Autumn, toil - Fal lal la! +Winter, rest - Fal lal la! +Winter, after all, is best - +Fal la! +Spring and summer pleasure you, +Autumn, ay, and winter, too - +Every season has its cheer; +Life is lovely all the year! +Fal la! + + + +Ballad: The Usher's Charge + + + +Now, Jurymen, hear my advice - +All kinds of vulgar prejudice +I pray you set aside: +With stern judicial frame of mind - +From bias free of every kind, +This trial must be tried! + +Oh, listen to the plaintiff's case: +Observe the features of her face - +The broken-hearted bride! +Condole with her distress of mind - +From bias free of every kind, +This trial must be tried! + +And when amid the plaintiff's shrieks, +The ruffianly defendant speaks - +Upon the other side; +What HE may say you need not mind - +From bias free of every kind, +This trial must be tried! + + + +Ballad: The Great Oak Tree + + + +There grew a little flower +'Neath a great oak tree: +When the tempest 'gan to lower +Little heeded she: +No need had she to cower, +For she dreaded not its power - +She was happy in the bower +Of her great oak tree! +Sing hey, +Lackaday! +Let the tears fall free +For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree! + +When she found that he was fickle, +Was that great oak tree, +She was in a pretty pickle, +As she well might be - +But his gallantries were mickle, +For Death followed with his sickle, +And her tears began to trickle +For her great oak tree! +Sing hey, +Lackaday! +Let the tears fall free +For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree! + +Said she, "He loved me never, +Did that great oak tree, +But I'm neither rich nor clever, +And so why should he? +But though fate our fortunes sever, +To be constant I'll endeavour, +Ay, for ever and for ever, +To my great oak tree!" +Sing hey, +Lackaday! +Let the tears fall free +For the pretty little flower and the great oak tree! + + + +Ballad: King Goodheart + + + +There lived a King, as I've been told +In the wonder-working days of old, +When hearts were twice as good as gold, +And twenty times as mellow. +Good temper triumphed in his face, +And in his heart he found a place +For all the erring human race +And every wretched fellow. +When he had Rhenish wine to drink +It made him very sad to think +That some, at junket or at jink, +Must be content with toddy: +He wished all men as rich as he +(And he was rich as rich could be), +So to the top of every tree +Promoted everybody. + +Ambassadors cropped up like hay, +Prime Ministers and such as they +Grew like asparagus in May, +And Dukes were three a penny: +Lord Chancellors were cheap as sprats, +And Bishops in their shovel hats +Were plentiful as tabby cats - +If possible, too many. +On every side Field-Marshals gleamed, +Small beer were Lords-Lieutenants deemed, +With Admirals the ocean teemed, +All round his wide dominions; +And Party Leaders you might meet +In twos and threes in every street +Maintaining, with no little heat, +Their various opinions. + +That King, although no one denies, +His heart was of abnormal size, +Yet he'd have acted otherwise +If he had been acuter. +The end is easily foretold, +When every blessed thing you hold +Is made of silver, or of gold, +You long for simple pewter. +When you have nothing else to wear +But cloth of gold and satins rare, +For cloth of gold you cease to care - +Up goes the price of shoddy: +In short, whoever you may be, +To this conclusion you'll agree, +When every one is somebody, +Then no one's anybody! + + + +Ballad: Sleep On! + + + +Fear no unlicensed entry, +Heed no bombastic talk, +While guards the British Sentry +Pall Mall and Birdcage Walk. +Let European thunders +Occasion no alarms, +Though diplomatic blunders +May cause a cry "To arms!" +Sleep on, ye pale civilians; +All thunder-clouds defy: +On Europe's countless millions +The Sentry keeps his eye! + +Should foreign-born rapscallions +In London dare to show +Their overgrown battalions, +Be sure I'll let you know. +Should Russians or Norwegians +Pollute our favoured clime +With rough barbaric legions, +I'll mention it in time. +So sleep in peace, civilians, +The Continent defy; +While on its countless millions +The Sentry keeps his eye ! + + + +Ballad: The Love-Sick Boy + + + +When first my old, old love I knew, +My bosom welled with joy; +My riches at her feet I threw; +I was a love-sick boy! +No terms seemed too extravagant +Upon her to employ - +I used to mope, and sigh, and pant, +Just like a love-sick boy! + +But joy incessant palls the sense; +And love unchanged will cloy, +And she became a bore intense +Unto her love-sick boy? +With fitful glimmer burnt my flame, +And I grew cold and coy, +At last, one morning, I became +Another's love-sick boy! + + + +Ballad: Poetry Everywhere + + + +What time the poet hath hymned +The writhing maid, lithe-limbed, +Quivering on amaranthine asphodel, +How can he paint her woes, +Knowing, as well he knows, +That all can be set right with calomel? + +When from the poet's plinth +The amorous colocynth +Yearns for the aloe, faint with rapturous thrills, +How can he hymn their throes +Knowing, as well he knows, +That they are only uncompounded pills? + +Is it, and can it be, +Nature hath this decree, +Nothing poetic in the world shall dwell? +Or that in all her works +Something poetic lurks, +Even in colocynth and calomel? + + + +Ballad: He Loves! + + + +He loves! If in the bygone years +Thine eyes have ever shed +Tears - bitter, unavailing tears, +For one untimely dead - +If in the eventide of life +Sad thoughts of her arise, +Then let the memory of thy wife +Plead for my boy - he dies! + +He dies! If fondly laid aside +In some old cabinet, +Memorials of thy long-dead bride +Lie, dearly treasured yet, +Then let her hallowed bridal dress - +Her little dainty gloves - +Her withered flowers - her faded tress - +Plead for my boy - he loves! + + + +Ballad: True Diffidence + + + +My boy, you may take it from me, +That of all the afflictions accurst +With which a man's saddled +And hampered and addled, +A diffident nature's the worst. +Though clever as clever can be - +A Crichton of early romance - +You must stir it and stump it, +And blow your own trumpet, +Or, trust me, you haven't a chance. + +Now take, for example, MY case: +I've a bright intellectual brain - +In all London city +There's no one so witty - +I've thought so again and again. +I've a highly intelligent face - +My features cannot be denied - +But, whatever I try, sir, +I fail in - and why, sir? +I'm modesty personified! + +As a poet, I'm tender and quaint - +I've passion and fervour and grace - +From Ovid and Horace +To Swinburne and Morris, +They all of them take a back place. +Then I sing and I play and I paint; +Though none are accomplished as I, +To say so were treason: +You ask me the reason? +I'm diffident, modest, and shy! + + + +Ballad: The Tangled Skein + + + +Try we life-long, we can never +Straighten out life's tangled skein, +Why should we, in vain endeavour, +Guess and guess and guess again? +Life's a pudding full of plums +Care's a canker that benumbs. +Wherefore waste our elocution +On impossible solution? +Life's a pleasant institution, +Let us take it as it comes! + +Set aside the dull enigma, +We shall guess it all too soon; +Failure brings no kind of stigma - +Dance we to another tune! +String the lyre and fill the cup, +Lest on sorrow we should sup; +Hop and skip to Fancy's fiddle, +Hands across and down the middle - +Life's perhaps the only riddle +That we shrink from giving up! + + + +Ballad: My Lady + + + +Bedecked in fashion trim, +With every curl a-quiver; +Or leaping, light of limb, +O'er rivulet and river; +Or skipping o'er the lea +On daffodil and daisy; +Or stretched beneath a tree, +All languishing and lazy; +Whatever be her mood - +Be she demurely prude +Or languishingly lazy - +My lady drives me crazy! +In vain her heart is wooed, +Whatever be her mood! + +What profit should I gain +Suppose she loved me dearly? +Her coldness turns my brain +To VERGE of madness merely. +Her kiss - though, Heaven knows, +To dream of it were treason - +Would tend, as I suppose, +To utter loss of reason! +My state is not amiss; +I would not have a kiss +Which, in or out of season, +Might tend to loss of reason: +What profit in such bliss? +A fig for such a kiss! + + + +Ballad: One Against The World + + + +It's my opinion - though I own +In thinking so I'm quite alone - +In some respects I'm but a fright. +YOU like my features, I suppose? +I'M disappointed with my nose: +Some rave about it - perhaps they're right. +My figure just sets off a fit; +But when they say it's exquisite +(And they DO say so), that's too strong. +I hope I'm not what people call +Opinionated! After all, +I'm but a goose, and may be wrong! + +When charms enthral +There's some excuse +For measures strong; +And after all +I'm but a goose, +And may be wrong! + +My teeth are very neat, no doubt; +But after all they MAY fall out: +I think they will - some think they won't. +My hands are small, as you may see, +But not as small as they might be, +At least, I think so - others don't. +But there, a girl may preach and prate +From morning six to evening eight, +And never stop to dine, +When all the world, although misled, +Is quite agreed on any head - +And it is quite agreed on mine! + +All said and done, +It's little I +Against a throng. +I'm only one, +And possibly +I may be wrong! + + + +Ballad: Put A Penny In The Slot + + + +If my action's stiff and crude, +Do not laugh, because it's rude. +If my gestures promise larks, +Do not make unkind remarks. +Clockwork figures may be found +Everywhere and all around. +Ten to one, if I but knew, +You are clockwork figures too. +And the motto of the lot, +"Put a penny in the slot!" + +Usurer, for money lent, +Making out his cent per cent - +Widow plump or maiden rare, +Deaf and dumb to suitor's prayer - +Tax collectors, whom in vain +You implore to "call again" - +Cautious voter, whom you find +Slow in making up his mind - +If you'd move them on the spot, +Put a penny in the slot! + +Bland reporters in the courts, +Who suppress police reports - +Sheriff's yeoman, pen in fist, +Making out a jury list - +Stern policemen, tall and spare, +Acting all "upon the square" - +(Which in words that plainer fall, +Means that you can square them all) - +If you want to move the lot, +Put a penny in the slot! + + + +Ballad: Good Little Girls + + + +Although of native maids the cream, +We're brought up on the English scheme - +The best of all +For great and small +Who modesty adore. +For English girls are good as gold, +Extremely modest (so we're told), +Demurely coy - divinely cold - +And we are that - and more. +To please papa, who argues thus - +All girls should mould themselves on us, +Because we are, +By furlongs far, +The best of all the bunch; +We show ourselves to loud applause +From ten to four without a pause - +Which is an awkward time because +It cuts into our lunch. + +Oh, maids of high and low degree, +Whose social code is rather free, +Please look at us and you will see +What good young ladies ought to be! + +And as we stand, like clockwork toys, +A lecturer papa employs +To puff and praise +Our modest ways +And guileless character - +Our well-known blush - our downcast eyes - +Our famous look of mild surprise +(Which competition still defies) - +Our celebrated "Sir!!!" +Then all the crowd take down our looks +In pocket memorandum books. +To diagnose, +Our modest pose +The kodaks do their best: +If evidence you would possess +Of what is maiden bashfulness, +You only need a button press - +And WE do all the rest. + + + +Ballad: Life + + + +First you're born - and I'll be bound you +Find a dozen strangers round you. +"Hallo," cries the new-born baby, +"Where's my parents? which may they be?" +Awkward silence - no reply - +Puzzled baby wonders why! +Father rises, bows politely - +Mother smiles (but not too brightly) - +Doctor mumbles like a dumb thing - +Nurse is busy mixing something. - +Every symptom tends to show +You're decidedly DE TROP - +Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! he! ho! ho! +Time's teetotum, +If you spin it, +Give its quotum +Once a minute: +I'll go bail +You hit the nail, +And if you fail +The deuce is in it! + +You grow up, and you discover +What it is to be a lover. +Some young lady is selected - +Poor, perhaps, but well-connected, +Whom you hail (for Love is blind +As the Queen of Fairy-kind. +Though she's plain - perhaps unsightly, +Makes her face up - laces tightly, +In her form your fancy traces +All the gifts of all the graces. +Rivals none the maiden woo, +So you take her and she takes you! +Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! +Joke beginning, +Never ceases, +Till your inning +Time releases; +On your way +You blindly stray, +And day by day +The joke increases! + +Ten years later - Time progresses - +Sours your temper - thins your tresses; +Fancy, then, her chain relaxes; +Rates are facts and so are taxes. +Fairy Queen's no longer young - +Fairy Queen has such a tongue! +Twins have probably intruded - +Quite unbidden - just as you did; +They're a source of care and trouble - +Just as you were - only double. +Comes at last the final stroke - +Time has had his little joke! +Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! +Daily driven +(Wife as drover) +Ill you've thriven - +Ne'er in clover: +Lastly, when +Threescore and ten +(And not till then), +The joke is over! +Ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! ho! +Then - and then +The joke is over! + + + +Ballad: Limited Liability + + + +Some seven men form an Association +(If possible, all Peers and Baronets), +They start off with a public declaration +To what extent they mean to pay their debts. +That's called their Capital: if they are wary +They will not quote it at a sum immense. +The figure's immaterial - it may vary +From eighteen million down to eighteenpence. +I should put it rather low; +The good sense of doing so +Will be evident at once to any debtor. +When it's left to you to say +What amount you mean to pay, +Why, the lower you can put it at, the better. + +They then proceed to trade with all who'll trust 'em, +Quite irrespective of their capital +(It's shady, but it's sanctified by custom); +Bank, Railway, Loan, or Panama Canal. +You can't embark on trading too tremendous - +It's strictly fair, and based on common sense - +If you succeed, your profits are stupendous - +And if you fail, pop goes your eighteenpence. +Make the money-spinner spin! +For you only stand to win, +And you'll never with dishonesty be twitted. +For nobody can know, +To a million or so, +To what extent your capital's committed! + +If you come to grief, and creditors are craving +(For nothing that is planned by mortal head +Is certain in this Vale of Sorrow - saving +That one's Liability is Limited), - +Do you suppose that signifies perdition? +If so you're but a monetary dunce - +You merely file a Winding-Up Petition, +And start another Company at once! +Though a Rothschild you may be +In your own capacity, +As a Company you've come to utter sorrow - +But the Liquidators say, +"Never mind - you needn't pay," +So you start another Company to-morrow! + + + +Ballad: Anglicised Utopia + + + +Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses, +Which empties our police courts, and abolishes divorces. +(Divorce is nearly obsolete in England.) +No tolerance we show to undeserving rank and splendour; +For the higher his position is, the greater the offender. +(That's a maxim that is prevalent in England.) +No Peeress at our Drawing-Room before the Presence passes +Who wouldn't be accepted by the lower-middle classes; +Each shady dame, whatever be her rank, is bowed out neatly. +In short, this happy country has been Anglicised completely! +It really is surprising +What a thorough Anglicising +We've brought about - Utopia's quite another land; +In her enterprising movements, +She is England - with improvements, +Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land! + +Our city we have beautified - we've done it willy-nilly - +And all that isn't Belgrave Square is Strand and Piccadilly. +(They haven't any slummeries in England.) +We have solved the labour question with discrimination polished, +So poverty is obsolete and hunger is abolished - +(They are going to abolish it in England.) +The Chamberlain our native stage has purged, beyond a question, +Of "risky" situation and indelicate suggestion; +No piece is tolerated if it's costumed indiscreetly - +In short, this happy country has been Anglicised completely! +It really is surprising +What a thorough Anglicising +We've brought about - Utopia's quite another land; +In her enterprising movements, +She is England - with improvements, +Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land! + +Our Peerage we've remodelled on an intellectual basis, +Which certainly is rough on our hereditary races - +(They are going to remodel it in England.) +The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek admission, +And Literary Merit meets with proper recognition - +(As Literary Merit does in England!) +Who knows but we may count among our intellectual chickens +Like them an Earl of Thackeray and p'raps a Duke of Dickens - +Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come) we'll welcome +sweetly - +And then, this happy country will be Anglicised completely! +It really is surprising +What a thorough Anglicising +We've brought about - Utopia's quite another land; +In her enterprising movements, +She is England - with improvements, +Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land! + + + +Ballad: An English Girl + + + +A wonderful joy our eyes to bless, +In her magnificent comeliness, +Is an English girl of eleven stone two, +And five foot ten in her dancing shoe! +She follows the hounds, and on she pounds - +The "field" tails off and the muffs diminish - +Over the hedges and brooks she bounds - +Straight as a crow, from find to finish. +At cricket, her kin will lose or win - +She and her maids, on grass and clover, +Eleven maids out - eleven maids in - +(And perhaps an occasional "maiden over"). +Go search the world and search the sea, +Then come you home and sing with me +There's no such gold and no such pearl +As a bright and beautiful English girl! + +With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs, +She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims - +She plays, she sings, she dances, too, +From ten or eleven till all is blue! +At ball or drum, till small hours come +(Chaperon's fan conceals her yawning), +She'll waltz away like a teetotum, +And never go home till daylight's dawning. +Lawn tennis may share her favours fair - +Her eyes a-dance and her cheeks a-glowing - +Down comes her hair, but what does she care? +It's all her own and it's worth the showing! +Go search the world and search the sea, +Then come you home and sing with me +There's no such gold and no such pearl +As a bright and beautiful English girl! + +Her soul is sweet as the ocean air, +For prudery knows no haven there; +To find mock-modesty, please apply +To the conscious blush and the downcast eye. +Rich in the things contentment brings, +In every pure enjoyment wealthy, +Blithe as a beautiful bird she sings, +For body and mind are hale and healthy. +Her eyes they thrill with right goodwill - +Her heart is light as a floating feather - +As pure and bright as the mountain rill +That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather! +Go search the world and search the sea, +Then come you home and sing with me +There's no such gold and no such pearl +As a bright and beautiful English girl! + + + +Ballad: A Manager's Perplexities + + + +Were I a king in very truth, +And had a son - a guileless youth - +In probable succession; +To teach him patience, teach him tact, +How promptly in a fix to act, +He should adopt, in point of fact, +A manager's profession. +To that condition he should stoop +(Despite a too fond mother), +With eight or ten "stars" in his troupe, +All jealous of each other! +Oh, the man who can rule a theatrical crew, +Each member a genius (and some of them two), +And manage to humour them, little and great, +Can govern a tuppenny-ha'penny State! + +Both A and B rehearsal slight - +They say they'll be "all right at night" +(They've both to go to school yet); +C in each act MUST change her dress, +D WILL attempt to "square the press"; +E won't play Romeo unless +His grandmother plays Juliet; +F claims all hoydens as her rights +(She's played them thirty seasons); +And G must show herself in tights +For two convincing reasons - +Two very well-shaped reasons! +Oh, the man who can drive a theatrical team, +With wheelers and leaders in order supreme, +Can govern and rule, with a wave of his fin, +All Europe and Asia - with Ireland thrown in! + + + +Ballad: Out Of Sorts + + + +When you find you're a broken-down critter, +Who is all of a trimmle and twitter, +With your palate unpleasantly bitter, +As if you'd just bitten a pill - +When your legs are as thin as dividers, +And you're plagued with unruly insiders, +And your spine is all creepy with spiders, +And you're highly gamboge in the gill - +When you've got a beehive in your head, +And a sewing machine in each ear, +And you feel that you've eaten your bed, +And you've got a bad headache DOWN HERE - +When such facts are about, +And these symptoms you find +In your body or crown - +Well, it's time to look out, +You may make up your mind +You had better lie down! + +When your lips are all smeary - like tallow, +And your tongue is decidedly yallow, +With a pint of warm oil in your swAllow, +And a pound of tin-tacks in your chest - +When you're down in the mouth with the vapours, +And all over your new Morris papers +Black-beetles are cutting their capers, +And crawly things never at rest - +When you doubt if your head is your own, +And you jump when an open door slams - +Then you've got to a state which is known +To the medical world as "jim-jams." +If such symptoms you find +In your body or head, +They're not easy to quell - +You may make up your mind +You are better in bed, +For you're not at all well! + + + +Ballad: How It's Done + + + +Bold-faced ranger +(Perfect stranger) +Meets two well-behaved young ladies +He's attractive, +Young and active - +Each a little bit afraid is. +Youth advances, +At his glances +To their danger they awaken; +They repel him +As they tell him +He is very much mistaken. +Though they speak to him politely, +Please observe they're sneering slightly, +Just to show he's acting vainly. +This is Virtue saying plainly, +"Go away, young bachelor, +We are not what you take us for!" +(When addressed impertinently, +English ladies answer gently, +"Go away, young bachelor, +We are not what you take us for!") + +As he gazes, +Hat he raises, +Enters into conversation. +Makes excuses - +This produces +Interesting agitation. +He, with daring, +Undespairing, +Gives his card - his rank discloses - +Little heeding +This proceeding, +They turn up their little noses. +Pray observe this lesson vital - +When a man of rank and title +His position first discloses, +Always cock your little noses. +When at home, let all the class +Try this in the looking-glass. +(English girls of well-bred notions +Shun all unrehearsed emotions, +English girls of highest class +Practise them before the glass.) + +His intentions +Then he mentions, +Something definite to go on - +Makes recitals +Of his titles, +Hints at settlements, and so on. +Smiling sweetly, +They, discreetly, +Ask for further evidences: +Thus invited, +He, delighted, +Gives the usual references. +This is business. Each is fluttered +When the offer's fairly uttered. +"Which of them has his affection?" +He declines to make selection. +Do they quarrel for his dross? +Not a bit of it - they toss! +Please observe this cogent moral - +English ladies never quarrel. +When a doubt they come across, +English ladies always toss. + + + +Ballad: A Classical Revival + + + +At the outset I may mention it's my sovereign intention +To revive the classic memories of Athens at its best, +For my company possesses all the necessary dresses, +And a course of quiet cramming will supply us with the rest. +We've a choir hyporchematic (that is, ballet-operatic) +Who respond to the CHOREUTAE of that cultivated age, +And our clever chorus-master, all but captious criticaster, +Would accept as the CHOREGUS of the early Attic stage. +This return to classic ages is considered in their wages, +Which are always calculated by the day or by the week - +And I'll pay 'em (if they'll back me) all in OBOLOI and DRACHMAE, +Which they'll get (if they prefer it) at the Kalends that are +Greek! + +(At this juncture I may mention +That this erudition sham +Is but classical pretension, +The result of steady "cram.": +Periphrastic methods spurning, +To my readers all discerning +I admit this show of learning +Is the fruit of steady cram."!) + +In the period Socratic every dining-room was Attic +(Which suggests an architecture of a topsy-turvy kind), +There they'd satisfy their twist on a RECHERCHE cold [Greek text +which cannot be reproduced], +Which is what they called their lunch - and so may you, if you're +inclined. +As they gradually got on, they'd [Greek text which cannot be +reproduced] +(Which is Attic for a steady and a conscientious drink). +But they mixed their wine with water - which I'm sure they didn't +oughter - +And we Anglo-Saxons know a trick worth two of that, I think! +Then came rather risky dances (under certain circumstances) +Which would shock that worthy gentleman, the Licenser of Plays, +Corybantian maniAC kick - Dionysiac or Bacchic - +And the Dithyrambic revels of those indecorous days. + +(And perhaps I'd better mention +Lest alarming you I am, +That it isn't our intention +To perform a Dithyramb - +It displays a lot of stocking, +Which is always very shocking, +And of course I'm only mocking +At the prevalence of "cram.") + +Yes, on reconsideration, there are customs of that nation +Which are not in strict accordance with the habits of our day, +And when I come to codify, their rules I mean to modify, +Or Mrs. Grundy, p'r'aps, may have a word or two to say: +For they hadn't macintoshes or umbrellas or goloshes - +And a shower with their dresses must have played the very deuce, +And it must have been unpleasing when they caught a fit of +sneezing, +For, it seems, of pocket-handkerchiefs they didn't know the use. +They wore little underclothing - scarcely anything - or no-thing - +And their dress of Coan silk was quite transparent in design - +Well, in fact, in summer weather, something like the "altogether." +And it's THERE, I rather fancy, I shall have to draw the line! + +(And again I wish to mention +That this erudition sham +Is but classical pretension, +The result of steady "cram." +Yet my classic love aggressive, +If you'll pardon the possessive, +Is exceedingly impressive +When you're passing an exam.) + + + +Ballad: The Practical Joker + + + +Oh what a fund of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes! +What keen enjoyment springs +From cheap and simple things! +What deep delight from sources trite inventive humour coaxes, +That pain and trouble brew +For every one but you! +Gunpowder placed inside its waist improves a mild Havanah, +Its unexpected flash +Burns eyebrows and moustache; +When people dine no kind of wine beats ipecacuanha, +But common sense suggests +You keep it for your guests - +Then naught annoys the organ boys like throwing red-hot coppers, +And much amusement bides +In common butter-slides. +And stringy snares across the stairs cause unexpected croppers. +Coal scuttles, recollect, +Produce the same effect. +A man possessed +Of common sense +Need not invest +At great expense - +It does not call +For pocket deep, +These jokes are all +Extremely cheap. +If you commence with eighteenpence (it's all you'll have to pay), +You may command a pleasant and a most instructive day. + +A good spring gun breeds endless fun, and makes men jump like +rockets, +And turnip-heads on posts +Make very decent ghosts: +Then hornets sting like anything, when placed in waist-coat pockets +- +Burnt cork and walnut juice +Are not without their use. +No fun compares with easy chairs whose seats are stuffed with +needles - +Live shrimps their patience tax +When put down people's backs - +Surprising, too, what one can do with fifty fat black beedles - +And treacle on a chair +Will make a Quaker swear! +Then sharp tin tacks +And pocket squirts - +And cobblers' wax +For ladies' skirts - +And slimy slugs +On bedroom floors - +And water jugs +On open doors - +Prepared with these cheap properties, amusing tricks to play, +Upon a friend a man may spend a most delightful day! + + + +Ballad: The National Anthem + + + +A monarch is pestered with cares, +Though, no doubt, he can often trepan them; +But one comes in a shape he can never escape - +The implacable National Anthem! +Though for quiet and rest he may yearn, +It pursues him at every turn - +No chance of forsaking +Its ROCOCO numbers; +They haunt him when waking - +They poison his slumbers - +Like the Banbury Lady, whom every one knows, +He's cursed with its music wherever he goes! +Though its words but imperfectly rhyme, +And the devil himself couldn't scan them; +With composure polite he endures day and night +That illiterate National Anthem! + +It serves a good purpose, I own: +Its strains are devout and impressive - +Its heart-stirring notes raise a lump in our throats +As we burn with devotion excessive: +But the King, who's been bored by that song +From his cradle - each day - all day long - +Who's heard it loud-shouted +By throats operatic, +And loyally spouted +By courtiers emphatic - +By soldier - by sailor - by drum and by fife - +Small blame if he thinks it the plague of his life! +While his subjects sing loudly and long, +Their King - who would willingly ban them - +Sits, worry disguising, anathematising +That Bogie, the National Anthem! + + + +Ballad: Her Terms + + + +My wedded life +Must every pleasure bring +On scale extensive! +If I'm your wife +I must have everything +That's most expensive - +A lady's-maid - +(My hair alone to do +I am not able) - +And I'm afraid +I've been accustomed to +A first-rate table. +These things one must consider when one marries - +And everything I wear must come from Paris! +Oh, think of that! +Oh, think of that! +I can't wear anything that's not from Paris! +From top to toes +Quite Frenchified I am, +If you examine. +And then - who knows? - +Perhaps some day a fam - +Perhaps a famine! +My argument's correct, if you examine, +What should we do, if there should come a f-famine! + +Though in green pea +Yourself you needn't stint +In July sunny, +In Januaree +It really costs a mint - +A mint of money! +No lamb for us - +House lamb at Christmas sells +At prices handsome: +Asparagus, +In winter, parallels +A Monarch's ransom: +When purse to bread and butter barely reaches, +What is your wife to do for hot-house peaches? +Ah! tell me that! +Ah! tell me that! +What IS your wife to do for hot-house peaches? +Your heart and hand +Though at my feet you lay, +All others scorning! +As matters stand, +There's nothing now to say +Except - good morning! +Though virtue be a husband's best adorning, +That won't pay rates and taxes - so, good morning! + + + +Ballad: The Independent Bee + + + +A hive of bees, as I've heard say, +Said to their Queen one sultry day, +"Please your Majesty's high position, +The hive is full and the weather is warm, +We rather think, with a due submission, +The time has come when we ought to swarm." +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +Up spake their Queen and thus spake she - +"This is a matter that rests with me, +Who dares opinions thus to form? +I'LL tell you when it is time to swarm!" +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. + +Her Majesty wore an angry frown, +In fact, her Majesty's foot was down - +Her Majesty sulked - declined to sup - +In short, her Majesty's back was up. +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +Her foot was down and her back was up! + +That hive contained one obstinate bee +(His name was Peter), and thus spake he - +"Though every bee has shown white feather, +To bow to tyranny I'm not prone - +Why should a hive swarm all together? +Surely a bee can swarm alone?" +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +Upside down and inside out, +Backwards, forwards, round about, +Twirling here and twisting there, +Topsy turvily everywhere - +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +Pitiful sight it was to see +Respectable elderly high-class bee, +Who kicked the beam at sixteen stone, +Trying his best to swarm alone! +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +Trying his best to swarm alone! + +The hive were shocked to see their chum +(A strict teetotaller) teetotum - +The Queen exclaimed, "How terrible, very! +It's perfectly clear to all the throng +Peter's been at the old brown sherry. +Old brown sherry is much too strong - +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +Of all who thus themselves degrade, +A stern example must be made, +To Coventry go, you tipsy bee!" +So off to Coventry town went he. +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +There, classed with all who misbehave, +Both plausible rogue and noisome knave, +In dismal dumps he lived to own +The folly of trying to swarm alone! +Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. +All came of trying to swarm alone. + + + +Ballad: The Disconcerted Tenor + + + +A tenor, all singers above +(This doesn't admit of a question), +Should keep himself quiet, +Attend to his diet, +And carefully nurse his digestion. +But when he is madly in love, +It's certain to tell on his singing - +You can't do chromatics +With proper emphatics +When anguish your bosom is wringing! +When distracted with worries in plenty, +And his pulse is a hundred and twenty, +And his fluttering bosom the slave of mistrust is, +A tenor can't do himself justice. +Now observe - (SINGS A HIGH NOTE) - +You see, I can't do myself justice! + +I could sing, if my fervour were mock, +It's easy enough if you're acting, +But when one's emotion +Is born of devotion, +You mustn't be over-exacting. +One ought to be firm as a rock +To venture a shake in VIBRATO; +When fervour's expected, +Keep cool and collected, +Or never attempt AGITATO. +But, of course, when his tongue is of leather, +And his lips appear pasted together, +And his sensitive palate as dry as a crust is, +A tenor can't do himself justice. +Now observe - (SINGS A CADENCE) - +It's no use - I can't do myself justice! + + + +Ballad: The Played-Out Humorist + + + +Quixotic is his enterprise, and hopeless his adventure is, +Who seeks for jocularities that haven't yet been said. +The world has joked incessantly for over fifty centuries, +And every joke that's possible has long ago been made. +I started as a humorist with lots of mental fizziness, +But humour is a drug which it's the fashion to abuse; +For my stock-in-trade, my fixtures, and the goodwill of the +business +No reasonable offer I am likely to refuse. +And if anybody choose +He may circulate the news +That no reasonable offer I'm likely to refuse. + +Oh happy was that humorist - the first that made a pun at all - +Who when a joke occurred to him, however poor and mean, +Was absolutely certain that it never had been done at all - +How popular at dinners must that humorist have been! + +Oh the days when some stepfather for the query held a handle out, +The door-mat from the scraper, is it distant very far? +And when no one knew where Moses was when Aaron blew the candle +out, +And no one had discovered that a door could be a-jar! +But your modern hearers are +In their tastes particular, +And they sneer if you inform them that a door can be a-jar! + +In search of quip and quiddity, I've sat all day, alone, apart - +And all that I could hit on as a problem was - to find +Analogy between a scrag of mutton and a Bony-part, +Which offers slight employment to the speculative mind: +For you cannot call it very good, however great your charity - +It's not the sort of humour that is greeted with a shout - +And I've come to the conclusion that my mine of jocularity +In present Anno Domini, is worked completely out! +Though the notion you may scout, +I can prove beyond a doubt +That my mine of jocularity is utterly worked out. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Bab Ballads by W. S. Gilbert + |