Bab Ballads and Savoy Songs Part 15

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're 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!

THE CONTEMPLATIVE SENTRY.

When all night long a chap remains On sentry-go, to chase monotony He exercises of his brains, That is, a.s.suming 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're 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!

SORRY HER LOT.

Sorry her lot who loves too well, Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly, Had 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!

THE JUDGE'S SONG.

When I, good friends, was called to the Bar, I'd an appet.i.te 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 I bought of a b.o.o.by-- A couple of s.h.i.+rts 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 cla.s.s 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 Middles.e.x Sessions.

You'll soon get used to her looks," said he, "And a very nice girl you'll find her-- She may very well pa.s.s 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!

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 pa.s.sion and fervor 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!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

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!