Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas Part 4

[_A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood._

_Chorus_--Give it away, &c.

VERSE VIII. (_culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming Dawn_).

Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax: For each "h" that's p.r.o.nounced we will clap on a tax!

[_A very popular measure._ And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free, Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!

_Chorus, and dance off._--Given away! Ippipooray!

Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!

Given away! Not a penny to pay!

Given away!--with a Pound of Tea!

If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters--a supposition _Mr.

Punch_ must decline to entertain for a single moment.

IV.--THE IDYLLIC.

The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any lady _artiste_.

SO SHY!

_The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the public._

I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle, [_Self-praise is a great recommendation--in Music-hall songs_.

So retiring and so timid and so coy.

If you ask me why so long I have lived single, I will tell you--'tis because I am so shoy.

[_Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet Arcadian peculiarities of p.r.o.nunciation._

_Spoken_--Yes, I am--really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you? But, for all that,--

_Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, Going off into a giggle, And as red as any peony I blush; Then turn paler than a lily, For I'm such a little silly, That I'm always in a flutter or a flus.h.!.+

[_After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of shrinking maidenly modesty._

I've a cottage far away from other houses, Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh; When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses, For I _cannot_ cure myself of being shoy.

_Spoken_--A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying, for--

_Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.

Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson, Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy, For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson, And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.

_Spoken_--It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.

_Chorus_--When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.

Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.

Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.

Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"

But how _is_ a girl to answer when she's shoy?

_Spoken_--For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing particular, it's just the same to me.

_Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE IDYLLIC.]

There we stood among the loilac and syringas, More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy; [_Arcadian for "buy."_ And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers, And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.

_Spoken_--For, as I told you before,--

_Chorus_--When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.

Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing, While I only heaved a gentle little soy; Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in, It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!

_Spoken_--People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As for me,--

_Chorus_--When they talk of love, I wriggle, &c.

So very soon to Church we shall be gowing, While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.

If obedience you do not hear me vowing, It will only be because I am so shy.

[_We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will be observed._

_Spoken_--Yes, and when I'm pa.s.sing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with everybody looking at me,--

_Chorus_--I am certain I shall wriggle, And go off into a giggle, And as red as any peony I'll blush.

Going through the marriage service Will be sure to mike me nervous, [_Note the freedom of the rhyme._ And to put me in a flutter and a flus.h.!.+

V.--THE AMATORY EPISODIC.

The history of a singer's latest love--whether fortunate or otherwise--will always command the interest and attention of a Music-hall audience. Our example, which is founded upon the very best precedents, derives an additional piquancy from the social position of the beloved object. Cultivated readers are requested not to shudder at the rhymes. _Mr. Punch's_ Poet does them deliberately and in cold blood, being convinced that without these somewhat daring concords, no ditty would have the slightest chance of satisfying the great ear of the Music-hall public.

The t.i.tle of the song is:--

MASHED BY A MARCHIONESS.