Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_Jam-Loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic, Miss CONNIE CURDLER.
_Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for Mrs. BANCROFT if she can only be induced to make her reappearance_).
_John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
_Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who has kindly consented to undertake the part_).
_Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind permission of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
SCENE--_The Store-room at sunset with view of exterior of Jam Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
_Enter_ JOE.
"As Joe was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought no one saw but himself."--_Vide Poem._
_Joe_ (_dreamily_.) 'Tis pa.s.sing strange that I so partial am To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
[_HERE_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous Satirical Medley ill.u.s.trative of the Sports of Childhood, and ent.i.tled,_ "Some little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" _after which, Enter_ JOE'S _Mother, followed by JOHN and the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &c., for gathering fruit_.
"His Mother and John, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
_Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums, Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
[_Chorus signify a.s.sent in the usual manner by holding up the right hand._
_Solo_--JOHN.
Fruit, when gathered ripe, is wholesome-- Otherwise if eaten green.
Once I know a boy who stole some--
[_With a glance at JOE, who turns aside to conceal his confusion._
His internal pangs were keen!
_Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean, Their internal pangs are keen!
_Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!
I'll keep my eye on Joseph in the orchard.
[_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
_Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.
Temptation it is ever best to shun!
_Joe's M_. So laudable his wish, I would not cross it-- (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon closet!
_Chorus._ Away we go tripping, From boughs to be stripping Each pear, plum, and pippin Pomona supplies!
When homeward we've brought 'em, Those products of Autumn, We'll carefully sort 'em (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_), According to size! [_Repeat as they caper out._
[JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows: the voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance.
Stage darkens: the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cupboard door._
_Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
[_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake, For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
[_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill ... perchance--a powder!
(_Desperately._) What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
[_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet (painted by_ HAWES CRAVEN). JOE _mounts chair to explore shelves._
"How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf!"--_Vide Poem._
_Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full and back to audience_).
'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite; I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
And finish up with currants from this shelf ...
Who'll ever see me?
_The_ Demon _of the Jam Closet (rising slowly from an immense pot of preserves_). No one--but Myself!
[_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare (courteously lent by the Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties); weird music_; JOE _turns slowly and confronts the_ Demon _with awestruck eyes._ N.B.--_Great opportunity for powerful acting here._
_The Demon (with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I will await your leisure.
_Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not the pleasure.
Who are you? Wherefore have you intervened?
_The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam;" occupation--fiend.
_Joe,_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I _know_ it's very wrong of me!
_Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of" me?
_Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting, You smile----
_Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
[_Catches_ JOE's _ankle, and a.s.sists him to descend._
_Joe_. You'll drive me mad!
_Demon_ (_carelessly_). I _may_--before I've done with you!
