Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
_Second S._ (_putting her arms a-kimbo_).
If you swallow _that_, you're a green one!
They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash, When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash-- When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!
_Refrain._
_First S._ Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
_Second S._ (_cheerfully_). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and _I_ know.
_First S._ You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
_Second S._ Why _rather_--if he's rolling in the Rhino!
_Fourth Verse._
_First S._ Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
_Second S._ It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
_First S._ Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
_Second S._ It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
_First S._ But don't they go into those horrible slums?
_Second S._ Sometimes--with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
_First S._ I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
_Second S._ And n.o.body knows how they've spent them!
_Refrain._
_Second S._ Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
They are only bigger hypocrites, as _I_ know; They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest, When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
_Fifth Verse._
_First S._ Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
_Second S._ (_compa.s.sionately_). Whoever's been gammoning _you_ so?
_First S._ They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
_Second S._ What else would induce 'em to do so?
_First S._ But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
_Second S._ I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice, For they're able to put on the screw so!
_Refrain_ (_together_).
No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
They may kid to their const.i.tuents--but _I_ know; Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest, They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
[_Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause._
[Ill.u.s.tration: DISINTERESTED Pa.s.sION.]
X.--DISINTERESTED Pa.s.sION.
When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender pa.s.sion in a rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly ideal in its n.o.ble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a tendency deserves encouragement, and _Mr. Punch_ has much pleasure in offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by a scion of the n.o.bility, and the _artiste_ will accordingly present himself in a brown "billy-c.o.c.k" hat, a long grey frock-coat, fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green, gloves--the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A powerful,--though not necessarily tuneful,--voice is desirable for the adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing, can always be spoken.
ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!
_First Verse._
When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow-- A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow, For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
_Refrain_ (_throaty, but tender_).
She's only a little Plebeian!
And I'm a Patrician swell!
But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her, No eloquence ever can tell!
Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
Selling her saucers of whilks, [_Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."_ But, for me, she's as slend-ar--far more true and tend-ar, Than if she wore satins and silks!
[_The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does, Music-hall audiences don't--which is the main point._
_Second Verse._
I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter: I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!
Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter, For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"
_Refrain_--For she's only a little Plebeian, &c.
_Third Verse._
I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny, A n.o.ble type, when sober, of the British artisan; I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being h.o.r.n.y: "Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"
