The _Nancy_ from her moorings parted;
At six we drifted on to shore,
And found out half her “plates” had started.
At seven, as in distress we lay,
To fire a signal was our fancy;
But then, d’ye see, there was no way,
No powder was aboard the _Nancy_.
Next day, tugged off, and into port,
A month’s repairs, and off we glided
At three o’clock, all trim and taut――
Then with the Margate boat collided.
She soon sheered off, all safe and sound,
But as for us――it was no fancy――
We overhauled the craft, and found
There was a big hole in the _Nancy_.
We stuffed it up; a gale came on;
We weathered it, though well-nigh worsted;
Then at eight bells, or close upon,
Two of our blessed boilers bursted!
“Avast!” I cried, and swam ashore,
“Them ironclads is not my fancy;
If e’er I go a-cruising more,
The Devil seize _me_, and sink the _Nancy_!
W. H. HADLEY.
POOR JACK.
Go, patter to Lords of the Admiralty
’Bout torpedoes and rams and the like;
A sturdy old-fashioned three-decker give me,
And to never a foeman I’ll strike.
Now we’re caged up in armour, with guns of rare might,
And think scorn of our vessels of wood,
But our enemies with us keep pace left and right;
Then I ask, after all, what’s the good?
But jobbers are reckless and taxpayers soft
And we sailors are taken aback,
Though we know “there’s a Providence sits up aloft”
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.
Just hear Lyon Playfair palaver away
About ironclads, ordnance, and such.
By Jingo! what Science has done in our day!
But it hasn’t been _proved_ very much.
Those huge iron monsters may founder, d’ye see?
And those great guns may burst, don’t you know?
And our boasted appliances turn out to be
More fatal to us than the foe.
When hardy sea lions, who’ve conquered so oft,
Are by engineers told to stand back,
It may take the “sweet cherub that sits up aloft”
All his time to look after Poor Jack.
ROBERT PUTTICK.
TOM TORPEDO.
Here lies a bit of Tom Torpedo,
The darling of our crew,
Who lost his rating, mates, indeed, O,
At last Spithead Review.
Our eighty-tonner was a beauty――
All flaws, like pewter soft:
Tom fired it――for it was his duty――
And now he’s gone aloft.
“True to the core,” was poor Tom’s motto:
He swore he’d fire the gun,
His mates hung round and begged him not to,
His Poll cried “Tom, ha’ done!”
The crew all fainted――leastways, I did――
But at our fears he scoffed,
And, just as two first-rates collided,
He fired and――went aloft.
They saved us, being summer weather:
The Queen she gave commands
To pipe our fragments all together,
All minus feet or hands.
But when she asked for Tom, our skipper
Said, as his hat he doffed,
“We’ve only got, marm, this ’ere flipper,
The rest of him’s――aloft.”
DARJEW.
A sheer hulk lies the _Devastation_,
The terror of its crew,
And half a million to the nation
Is broached by one review;
Its form had nought of naval beauty,
Its prowess was all “rot,”
One bump unfitted it for duty,
And now it’s gone to pot.
It barely from its berth departed
Till _Ajax_ barred the way,
And then the _Devastation_ started,
For which John Bull must pay.
The Jubilee had else been jolly,
But here began the blot――
The monster brute betrayed its folly,
And now has gone to pot.
Yet with the aid of pleasant weather,
And pumping day and night,
It somehow kept itself together
To swell a show of might:
When ship on ship its mate dispatches,
And strives to sink the lot,
Let those to whom the blame attaches
At once be sent to pot.
GEORGE HAMILTON.
THE ARMOURED CRUISER.
Come, all ye modern seamen bold,
Whose lot is cast in iron “mould,”
Vast terror now in fashion old――
Hurrah for the armoured cruiser!
Aggressive zeal has launched too far
These huge leviathans of war,
For smaller craft more deadly are――
The restless armoured cruiser!
The lither foe, says E. J. Reed,
Would prove, with its terrific speed,
To foes an awful foe indeed――
The flashing armoured cruiser!
And now let’s hope that wars may cease,
And power enforce a lasting peace,
Making a strife upon the seas
Absurd, with the armoured cruiser.
ISAAC READ.
Parody Competition in _The Weekly Dispatch_, July 31, 1887.
――――:o:――――
THE BRITISH ASS.
(_Roared by Sheriff Nicolson in a Den of Scientific Lions at Edinburgh
during the visit of the British Association to that city in August,
1871._)
Some men go in for Science,
And some go in for shams,
Some roar like hungry lions,
And others bleat like lambs;
But there’s a beast, that at this feast
Deserves a double glass.
So let us bray, that long we may
Admire the BRITISH ASS!
_Chorus_――With an ASS-ASS-OCIATION, &c.
On England’s fragrant clover
This beast delights to browse,
But sometimes he’s a rover
To Scotland’s broomy knowes;
For there the plant supplies his want,
That doth all herbs surpass,
The thistle rude――the sweetest food
That feeds the BRITISH ASS!
We’ve read in ancient story,
How a great Chaldean swell
Came down from all his glory,
With horned beasts to dwell;
If you would know how it happened so,
That a King should feed on grass,
In Section D, Department B,
Inquire of the BRITISH ASS!
To Grecian sages, charming,
Rang the music of the spheres,
But voices more alarming
Salute our longer ears;
By Science bold we now are told
How Life did come to pass.
From world to world the seeds were hurled,
Whence sprung the BRITISH ASS!
In our waltzing through creation,
We meet those fiery stones
That bring, for propagation,
The germs of flesh and bones;
And is it not a thrilling thought,
That some huge misguided mass,
Will, one fine day, come and sweep away
Our dear old BRITISH ASS!
The child who knows his father,
Has aye been reckoned wise,
But some of us would rather
Be spared that sweet surprise!
If it be true, that when we view
A comely lad or lass,
We find the trace of the monkey’s face
In the gaze of the BRITISH ASS!
The ancients, childish creatures!
Thought we derived from Heaven,
The Godlike form and features
To mankind only given
But now we see our pedigree
Made plain as in a glass,
And when we grin we betray our kin
To the sires of the BRITISH ASS!
――――
THE BRITISH VOLUNTEER.
The country has a quarter of a million of highly trained and
disciplined Volunteers, yet the Government will neither find rifle
ranges for the Infantry, nor cannon for the artillery. Camp equipment,
commissariat, ambulance, and medical stores, are all wanting to render
the service of any practical value in time of need.
Some prate of patriotism, and some of cheap defence,
But to the high official mind that’s all absurd pretence;
For of all the joys of snubbing, there’s none to it so dear,
As to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, the British Volunteer!
A patriotic Laureate may bid the Rifles form.
And Citizens may look to them for safety in War’s storm;
But Secretaries, Dooks, and such as this delight to jeer,
And to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!
A semi-swell he may be, but he may be a mere clerk,
And he’s an interloper, and to snub him is a lark.
Sometimes he licks the Regulars, and so our duty’s clear,
’Tis to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!
He hankers for an increase in his Capitation Grant,
It’s like his precious impudence, and have the lift he shan’t.
What, make it easier for him to run us close? No fear!
We’ll snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!
He has a fad for Wimbledon, but that is just a whim,
And as eviction’s all the go, we’ll try it upon _him_,
_He’s_ not an Irish tenant, so no one will interfere,
When once more we snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!
His targets and his tents and things are nuisances all round,
As Jerry-Builders, Dooks, and other Toffs have lately found.
Compared with bricks and mortar and big landlords he’s small beer,
So we’ll snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!
* * * * *
If he _must_ shoot his annual shoot somewhere, why, let him go
To Pirbright or to Salisbury Plain, or e’en to Jericho.
But out from his loved Wimbledon he’ll surely have to clear,――
A final snub, snub, snub, snub to the British Volunteer!
_Punch._ August 20, 1887.
――――:o:――――
MR. W. CHAPPELL’S valuable _Collection of English National Airs_
contains a few curious parodies. Of “_The Hunt is up_,” a very old
ballad, he remarks:――
“_Musick’s Delight on the Cithern_, from which our copy of
the music is taken contains many very old and popular
tunes, such as ‘Trip and go,’ and ‘Light o’ Love’ which we
have, found in no other printed collection. The words also
are evidently much older than ‘Merry Drollery,’ being
parodied in ‘Ane compendious Booke of Godly and Spirituall
Songs, collectit out of Sundrie of Partes of Scripture,
with Sundrie of other Ballates changed out of prophaine
Sanges for avoyding of Sinne and Harlottrie, &c.;’
reprinted in Edinburgh, by Andro Hart, in 1621, the
original edition having been published in 1590.
“A ‘Hunt is up,’ or ‘Hunt’s up,’ was a general term for
hunting songs, or rather an early song to rouse the party
for the chase, something equivalent to the French
_Réveillée_. It was afterwards generally used for any
description of morning song.
“Maurus, _last morne_, at’s mistress window plaid
An hunt’s up on his lute; but she (it’s said)
Threw stones at him: so he, like Orpheus there
Made stones _come flying_ his sweet notes to heare.
_Wits’ Bedlam_, 1617.
“And now the cock, the morning’s trumpeter,
Play’d hunt’s up for the day-star to appear.――_Drayton._
The following is the parody from the “’Compendious Booke of Godly
Songs.’”
“With hunts up, with hunts up,
It is now perfite day;
Jesus our King is gane in hunting;
Quha (who) likes to speed they may.
“Ane cursit fox lay hid in rox
This lang and mony ane day,
Devouring sheep, whilk he might creep;
Nane might him shape away.
“It did him gude to laip the blude
Of young and tender lammis:
Nane could him mis, for all was his,
The young anes with their dammes.
“The hunter is Christ, that hunts in haist;
The hunds are Peter and Paul;
The Paip is the fox; Rome is the rox
That rubbis us on the gall.
“That cruel beist, he never ceist,
By his usurpit power,
Under dispence, to get our pence,
Our saullis to devoure.
“Quha could devise sic merchandise
As he had there to sell,
Unless it were proud Lucifer,
The great Master of Hell?
“He had to sell the Tantonie bell,
And pardons therein was;
Remissions of sins in auld sheep skinis,
Our sauls to bring from grace.
“With buls of lead, white wax and reid,
And either whiles with green,
Closit in ane box, this usit the fox;
Sic peltrie was never seene.”
As another strange instance of religious fanaticism, Mr. Chappell
quotes a love-ditty of about the year 1590, and its absurd
conversion into a “Godly song”――
“Go from my window, love go;
Go from my window, my dear;
The wind and the rain,
Will drive you back again;
You cannot be lodged here.
“Begone, begone, my juggy, my puggy,
Begone, my love, my dear;
The weather is warm,
’T will do thee no harm;
Thou canst not be lodged here.
“Quho (who) is at my windo, who, who?
Goe from my windo, goe, goe.
Quho (who) calls there, so like ane strangere?
Goe from windo, goe, goe.
“Lord, I am here, ane wretched mortal,
That for thy mercie dois crie and call
Unto thee, my Lord celestiall;
See who is at my windo, who?
“O gracious Lord celestiall,
As thou art Lord and King Eternal;
Grant us grace that we may enter all,
And in at thy doore let me goe.
“Quho is at my windo, quho?
Go from windo, go;
Cry no more there, like are strangere,
But in at my doore thou go.’
――――:o:――――
GUNPOWDER PLOT.
’Tis good to remember
The FIFTH of NOVEMBER,
Gunpowder, treason, and plot;
There’s abundance of reason
To think of the treason,
Then why should it e’er be forgot?
Our sympathies thrive
By keeping alive
Such sweet little hatreds as these;
And folks love each other
As dear as a brother,
Whose throat they are ready to squeeze.
I delight in the joys
Of the vagabond boys,
When they’re burning Guy Vaux and the Pope;
It the flame keeps alive,
It makes bigotry thrive,
And gives it abundance of scope.
’Tis a beautiful truth
For the minds of our youth,
And will make them all Christians indeed;
For the Church and the State
Thus to teach ’em to hate
All those of a different creed.
From George Cruikshank’s _Comic Almanac_, 1835.
――――:o:――――
A RHYME FOR THE TIME.
“Where are you going to, my pretty maid?”
“I’m going a-voting, Sir,” she said.
“I’ll be your escort, my pretty maid.”
“I need not trouble you, Sir,” she said.
“Then will you not vote for me, my pretty maid?”
“Tell me your policy, Sir,” she said.
“Concession and cowardice, my pretty maid.”
“Out of the question, Sir,” she said.
“Yet they are the cheapest, my pretty maid.”
“Not in the long run, Sir,” she said.
“But I’ll leave my friends to stew in their juice;
I’ll let the colonies go to the deuce;
I’ll truckle to Russia and worry the Porte
(Pray look upon that as my special forte);
I’ll shut my ears when a hero calls,
And I’ll go, when he dies, to the music-halls.
“How will that suit you, my pretty maid?”
“I could not consent to it, Sir,” she said.
“Never mind foreign affairs, my lass;
I’ll give you a cow and three acres in grass:
The cow shall be Smith’s and the grass shall be Brown’s,
And the butter will buy you a couple of gowns.
What do you say to that, pretty maid?”
“Robbery! bribery! Sir!” she said.
“Then I won’t be your escort, my pretty maid!”
“Nobody asked you, Sir!” she said.
_The St James’s Gazette._ November 27, 1885.
――――
SWEET HOME RULE.
’Mid closures and procedure and orders by the tome,
Be it ever so simple, there’s no Rule like Home;
To mind our own business we often are warned,
Then why not let Paddy take Ireland in hand?
Home Rule! Sweet Home Rule!
There’s no plan so good, so give them Home Rule.
Without it Coercion is tried, but in vain,
Evictions and Land Acts all bring strife and pain;
A Senate in Dublin, to meet at their call,
With the knowledge of their local wants dearer than all.
Home Rule! Sweet Home Rule!
There’s no plan so good, so give them Home Rule.
_The Liberal and Radical._ September, 1887.
――――
ALE.
O’er cut-glass and chalices the eye may like to roam,
And our pewter may be humble, but ’tis ale that makes it foam;
The taste that you prize surely waits for you there,
Oh, the flavour of such malt and hops was never found elsewhere.
Ale, ale, double X ale!
There is no drink like ale, there’s no drink like ale!
Some tell me their small is good, but for me I do not heed it;
And I don’t like your fourpenny, nor yet your intermediate.
The gin it don’t agree with me, the brandy makes me pale,
But the reason I’m so jolly is, I stick to drinking ale.
Ale, ale, double X ale!
There’s no drink like ale, there’s no drink like ale!
An exile from Knight’s, liquors dazzle me in vain;
Oh, give me nay seat at the Christopher again;
The jolly little pot-boy that came at my call;
And give me my glass of ale, dearer than all.
Ale, ale, double X ale!
There’s no drink like ale, there’s no drink like ale!
EVERARD CLIVE.
――――:o:――――
JUBILATE.
“Ring out the joybells! ring a loud peal!
We are English you know! So English, you know!
Yes, this is a moment at which we all feel
We are English, you know! So English, you know!
’Tis a time to exult! At the sound of her voice
The rest of the world should kneel down and rejoice
That England, the mighty, allows them this day
To come to her throne their poor homage to pay.
So cry jubilate! and banish your woe!
We are English, you know! Yes, so English, you know!
“For we English, you know, are the mightiest nation;
We are English, you know! So English, you know!
And have we not cause for this grand jubilation?
So English, you know! So English, you know!
The Queen of our country has reigned fifty years,
So greet her with joybells, and join in three cheers!
Our wealth and good fortune she graciously shares,
She has cost a few millions――so Bradlaugh declares,
So cry jubilate! and banish your woe!
For it’s English, you know! Yes, so English, you know!
“Then cheer for Prince Bertie! He’s gallant, if weak;
That is English, you know. So English, you know!
Though of German extraction, he sticks to his clique;
Which is English, you know! So English, you know!
His thoughts are Imperial, his Institute’s grand;
To build it he begs with his hat in his hand.
For there’s nought to be done without hats full of tin;
And he doesn’t much care so the money comes in
From the rich and the poor, from the high and the low――
Which is English, you know! Yes, so English, you know!
“The publicans now are assisting to pay――
Which is English, you know! Quite English, you know!
Our taxes by fines, and they don’t like this way――
Which is English, you know! Quite English, you know!
Sir Wilfrid declares selling liquor is wrong,
But the Government analysts say, ‘Make it strong.’
Next election the Tories will find, I much fear,
Their votes from the bungs will be very small beer――
But cry jubilate! Good bitter must flow――
For it’s English, you know! Quite English, you know!
“At the last Jubilee people went on a spree;
Which is English, you know! So English, you know!
They feasted and fed all the poor with much glee;
Which is English, you know! Quite English, you know;
But this time a journalist heads his own list,
And makes an appeal which few folks can resist,
For treating the children, oh, won’t it seem queer,
If Jewbilee Lawson[81] is not made a peer?
Will Didcott be knighted for bossing the show?
’Twould be English, you know! Quite English, you know!
From _The Reign of Error_. London: J. Cheetham. 1887.
――――
QUITE ENGLISH.
When the Comte de Paris recently issued a manifesto to the French
nation, few sensible people gave it a serious thought, for
Bourbons and Buonapartes are as much played out in France, as the
Stuarts are in this country. _Punch_ (September 24, 1887)
ridiculed the pretensions of this would-be constitutional king,
representing him as masquerading in John Bull’s garments, a world
too wide for his shrunk shanks, and singing:――
Here I come in complete Constitutional coat
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know):
The type of true Monarchy based on the Vote.
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know);
To have a legitimate King on the throne,
To make all the Country’s best interests his own,
Great, grand, patriotic, but _not_ overgrown
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know).
_Chorus._
Oh, the things that you see and the things that you hear
Are English, you know; quite English, you know.
My mind, like my last Manifesto, ’tis clear,
Is English, quite English, you know!
Just now a great calm meets the national eyes
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know):
But imminent perils it cannot disguise
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know).
We have deserved well of Conservative France;
A Monarchy only her bliss can enhance;
And now of its nature I’ll give you a glance
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know).
Direct, universal, free suffrage, my friends,
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know),
Will vote――well for Me, and all trouble then ends
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know).
The King, with the Chamber’s concurrence, will rule.
The Deputies then can no more play the fool――
Clemenceau, Boulanger, and men of that school
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know).
* * * * *
Constitutional principles, these, my good friend!
(They’re English, you know; quite English, you know)――
They Conservative needs and Equality blend,
(That’s English, you know; quite English, you know).
_Do_ at my new Royal rig-out take a glance!
In this to the front I shall proudly advance,
As the true King of all, and first Servant of France,
(But English, you know; quite English, you know).
_Chorus._
The things which I say it is time you should hear
(They’re English, you know; quite English, you know).
The principles these to make France without peer
(Though they’re English; quite English, you know)!
――――:o:――――
I NEVER MENTION IT.
Oh, no! I never mentioned it,
I never said a word;
But lent my friend my five pound note,
Of which――I’ve never heard!
He said he merely borrowed it
To pay another debt――
And since I’ve never mentioned it,
He thinks that _I forget_!
Where’er we ride I pay the ’pike;
I settle every treat;
He rides my cob, he drives my cab,――
But cuts _me_ when we meet!
My new umbrella I lent him too,
One night ’twas very wet;
Tho’ _he_ forgets it ne’er came back,
Ah, me!――I don’t forget!
(_Three verses omitted._)
My friend is cousin to a lord;
And when a feed I sport,
He always asks his own fine friends,
Who drink champagne like port!
Last night down my own very stairs
They kick’d me for a bet!
By goles! I’ll fight them every one――
That’s――if I don’t forget.
By Lady Clarke, in _The Comic Offering_ for 1832. London: Smith,
Elder and Co.
――――
PARODY ON “ALICE GRAY.”
“She’s all my fancy painted her,
She’s lovely! she’s divine!”
Thus sighed all day my silly heart,
_Before_ my wife was mine:
I loved as mankind ever love,
And all love must decay:
I found I had a wife,――Good lack!
Whose horrid hair was grey!
Fine dark brown locks seemed braided
O’er her brow of spotless white;
Her eyes, on me soft languishing,
Oft beamed with fond delight:――
But _now_ they flash with angry fire;
The paint is washed away
From off that forehead brown――Good lack!
Whose horrid braids are grey!
I’d slumber o’er a mountain’s side,
I’d cross an angry flood;
T’escape her tongue’s continued strife,
I’d dare the field of blood.
But soon the turf will wrap my grave.
And all my friends will say:――
He thought her young――and died――Good lack!
When he found her locks were grey!
LOUISA H. SHERIDAN.
From _The Comic Offering_ for 1832, London: Smith, Elder & Co.
――――:o:――――
THE SOLDIER’S FEAR.
Upon the hill he turned,
To take a last fond look
Of the alehouse, and the village church,
And the cottage by the brook.
To use his pockethandkerchief,
While tears began to swell,
The soldier leant upon his sword――
It bent――and down he fell.
Amid the roar of battle,
The warrior’s fellest blow
Has failed to penetrate the coat
That shields the vaunting foe.
But though the pliant steel may cost
Our bravest and our best,
Be sure the sword most yielding there
Has passed the strictest test.
_Punch._ April 30, 1887.
Another parody, entitled “_The Sapper’s Beer_,” a recollection of the
Crystal Palace, occurs on p. 383 of _The Month_, by Albert Smith.
1851.
There are parodies of several other songs in the same volume, but they
are all quite out of date.
――――――
THE SHOPMAN’S HORROR.
She stood beside the counter,
The day he’ll ne’er forget,
She thought the muslin dearer
Than any she’d seen yet;
He watched her playful finger
The silks and satins toss,
The shopman looked uneasy
And felt a little cross.
“Show me some velvet ribbon,
Barege and satin turc,”
She said, “I want to purchase!”
Then gave the goods a jerk.
The shopman, all obedience――
Brought satins, silks and crape;
At length, with hesitation,
_She bought a yard of tape_!
ANONYMOUS.
――――:o:――――
FOR EVER AND FOR EVER.
Ah, me! I often think, my pet,
Of that sweet hour when first we met――
A time that I would fain forget
For ever and for ever!
Beneath the palms we sat alone;
We’d lost, I think, your chaperon;
You whispered you would be my own
For ever and for ever!
Ah, me! how well can mem’ry show
That letter which I wrote to know
If I were doomed to weal or woe
For ever and for ever!
When her papa’s consent I read――
Oh, how to see my love I sped!
Folks thought me one whose wits had fled
For ever and for ever!
Ah, me! that stroll down Regent Street,
That afternoon when you, my sweet,
Said strawberry ices you could eat
For ever and for ever!
Ah, me! with what a queenly air
You entered “Jay’s” and took a chair!
I thought, my love, you’d keep me there
For ever and for ever!
Ah, me! the way you said, “I see
A bracelet sweet. Oh, give it me!
And I shall fondly think of thee
For ever and for ever!”
I said, “I can’t!” You said, “You will!”
My love, I owe the money still.
By Jove! they’ll have to send that bill
For ever and for ever!
Ah, me! that morn at Whiteley’s mart;
What time I said, “I think, sweetheart,
That you and I had better part
For ever and for ever!”
A luckless speech with dire effect;
My new silk hat at once was wrecked!
That moment I shall recollect
For ever and for ever!
Ah, me! that afternoon in court,
When you, my love, your action brought;
The peals of mirth would last, I thought,
For ever and for ever!
Some beings we can ne’er forget;
Years may roll on, but I, my pet,
Shall think of thee――with deep regret――
For ever and for ever!
LAURENCE S. MAY.
From _Cassell’s Saturday Journal_. March 19, 1887.
――――:o:――――
THE OLD CREEDS.
AIR――“_I cannot sing the Old Songs_.”
I cannot hold the old creeds,
We have them now outgrown;
They cramped and bound the loving soul
With fetters quite their own;
The dogmas of the ancient faiths
Are passing fast away,
And now there dawns upon us
Beams of a brighter day.
I cannot love the old times,
When truth was seldom taught,
When Church and Priest usurped the right
To stifle human thought;
When deeds of darkness, crime and woe,
Were seen on every hand,
And Old Religion’s name was made
A terror in the land.
I cannot tread the old paths,
With rankest weeds o’ergrown;
A better way is opened up,
Whose gates are closed to none.
Nature’s domain is now our road,
And science is our guide;
We’ve travelled from sectarian strife
With Freethought to abide.
G. SEXTON.
――――:o:――――
A parody of General G. P. Morris’s song, “_Woodman, Spare that Tree_.”
Butcher, spare that pig!
Touch not a single limb!
He’ll soon be fat and big,
Though now he’s lean and slim.
’Twas my old father’s hand
That placed him in his sty;
And, till too fat to stand,
That porker shall not die!
My little girl and boy
Delight to hear him grunt;
They prod him in their joy
With sticks which are not blunt.
My mother kissed him here,
Upon his luscious cheek;
My aunt would shed a tear
Whene’er she heard him squeak.
My heart-strings round thee cling
Close as thy crackling, friend!
Thy bacon soon shall sing,
Its frying scent ascend.
But now thou would’st be tough
So, butcher, go away;
Not till he’s fat enough,
My piggy shall you slay.
ANONYMOUS.
――――:o:――――
I’D BE A BOTTLE-FLY.
I.
I’d be a bottle-fly, buzzing and blue,
With a Chuny[82] proboscis, and nothing to do,
But to dirty white dimity curtains, and blow
The choicest of meats when the summer days glow!
Let the hater of sentiment, dew-drops, and flowers,
Scorn the insect that flutters in sunbeams and bowers;
There’s a pleasure that none but the blue-bottle knows――
’Tis to buzz in the ear of a man in a doze!
II.
How charming to haunt a sick-chamber, and revel
O’er the invalid’s pillow, like any blue devil;
When pursued, to bounce off to the window, and then
From the pane to the counter-pane fly back again!
I’d be a bottle-fly, buzzing and blue,
With a Chuny proboscis, and nothing to do,
But to dirty white dimity curtains, and blow
The choicest of meats when the summer days glow!
From _Blackwood’s Magazine_. May, 1828.
――――:o:――――
PARODY.
As sung by Robson, in “_Masaniello_,” a burlesque by Robert Brough.
I’m a shrimp! I’m a shrimp of diminutive size;
Inspect my antennæ and look at my eyes;
I’m a natural syphon when dipped in a cup,
For I drain the contents to the latest drop up;
I care not for craw fish, I heed not the prawn;
From a flavour especial my fame has been drawn.
Nor e’en to the crab or the lobster I’ll yield,
When I’m properly cooked and efficiently peeled.
Quick, quick! pile your coals, let your saucepan be deep,
For the weather is warm, and I’m not sure to keep.
Off, off with my head! split my shell into three!
I’m a shrimp, I’m a shrimp, to be eaten with tea!
Another parody of the same original was sung by the late
comedian, Edward Wright, as _Mr. Chatterton Chopkins_, in
“This House to be Sold (the property of the late William
Shakespeare); Enquire Within.” This was written by J.
Sterling Coyne, and produced at the Adelphi Theatre,
London, September 9, 1847.
――――
I’M A GENT! I’M A GENT!
I’m a gent! I’m a gent! I’m a gent ready made;
I rove through the Quadrant and Lowther Arcade;
I’m a register’d swell from the head to the toe;
I wear a moustache and a light paletôt.
I’ve a cane in my hand, and a glass in my eye;
And I wink at the girls as I pass them by.
Then, la! how they giggle to win my regards,
And I hear them all say, “He’s a gent in the Guards!”
I can sing a flash song, I can blow on the horn,
I like sherry cobblers――am fond of Cremorne;
I love the Cellarius, the Polka I dance,
And I’m rather attached to a party from France.
This gal I adore, is a creature divine,
Though deucedly partial to lobsters and wine;
She was struck with my figure, and caught with a hook,
For I took her to visit “my uncle the Duke.”
I’m a gent! I’m a gent! in the Regent Street style;
Examine my waistcoat, and look at my tile.
There are gents, I dare say, who are handsomer far,
But none who can puff with such ease a cigar.
From _Sharp’s Vauxhall Comic Song Book_. London: Thomas Allman.
――――:o:――――
THE OLD ENGLISH CONSTABLE.
I’ll sing you of a good old boy, whom all must now revere,
Of a fine old English constable, who lived for many a year;
Who, though his natural looks were kind, could oft be most severe,
And could whene’er he had a mind strike every one with fear――
Like a fine old English constable, one of the olden
time.
His office was to keep the peace and order of the town,
To take the roaming spirits up, and knock the rising down.
They wanted then no new police, with hats glazed round the crown,
To strut about, for he did all, in rare old rusty gown――
Like a grand old English constable, one of the olden
time.
He often had to ring a bell, that every one might hear,
When goods were stolen, strayed, or lost, in accents loud and
clear.
So maidens when their reticules were miss’d, did never cry,
For love letters were found before they reached the parent’s eye――
By the good old English constable, one of the olden
time.
There are nine more verses of this parody. It occurs in _Songs_, by
“Jingo,” published by Edward West, Newgate Street, London. No date,
but probably about 1859. It also contains parodies of “Meet me by
Moonlight Alone,” “The Cannibal Islands,” “The Ratcatcher’s Daughter,”
“I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls,” and many other songs which were
popular about thirty years ago.
――――:o:――――
AN OPIUM VISION.
(_After a long course of Alma Tadema._)
I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
Whilst Sappho sang songs at my side,
Ah! cold as a bath were those glittering walls,
The doors and the windows were wide.
From no point of view could I make head or tail
Of the plan, the perspective, the plot;
Though ’twas all on a truly magnificent scale,
If I knew what it _meant_ I’ll be shot.
* * * * *
From _Harry Furniss’s Royal Academy_. 1887.
There was another parody in _Punch_ for August 20, 1887, commencing
thus:――
I dreamt that I gazed at the Marble Arch,
King Fog and King Coal at my side;
The soot of November, the dust storms of March,
Had made it a sight to deride.
* * * * *
――――:o:――――
MY DUDE.
AIR――“_My Queen_.”
When and where shall I earliest meet him?
What are the clothes he then will wear?
Will he still use the same big eye-glass
Which gives his eyes such a vacant glare?
Will he still walk like a hen rheumatic,
Or like a goose by a boy pursued?
He whom I look for with longing ecstatic,
He whom I worship――My Dude, My Dude.
Will his small moustache be with wax anointed?
Will his hair in the middle be parted neat?
Will he still wear those boots so pointed,
Pinching his dear little tender feet?
Will his legs be thin and his hat be curly?
Will he suck his cane as a child its food?
Will he still call me his girly, girly?
He whom I worship――My Dude, My Dude.
ANONYMOUS.
――――
HOW VERY GREEN!
Oh! a cunning plant doth the Jew, I ween,
Oft make of both young and old;
The younger the better, for then the more green,
And so much the more readily sold.
He’ll lend him cash, or sell him jewels,
Or horses; he’ll pleasure each whim
Of such arrant young fool; for he knows by-and-bye
There’s a merry meal for him!
So teaching the youth how life should be seen,
He plucketh the feathers of Verdant Green.
Fast he leadeth him on at a terrible pace
(Yet how staunch doth his false heart seem);
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings
To his _friend_ “Mishter Verdant Green!”
All the while slily weaving around his path,
A net that very soon will
Put a stop to his game; then no longer the Jew
Will discount, but sue on each bill;
Having shown the way that life should be seen,
By emptying the pockets of Verdant Green.
Whole ages have fled, and their works decay’d,
And nations have scatter’d been;
But the cunning old Jew will ne’er cease to drain
The life-blood of each Verdant Green.
And old “Shent per shent,” in his lonely days,
Will e’er chuckle o’er the past,
As he crones of the fortunes that Christians raise
But to come to the Jews at last.
And thus to the end of time, I ween,
The Jew will thrive on each Verdant Green.
_Diogenes._ July, 1853.
――――
A FINE OLD CHANT.
Oh! a fine old chant is “God Save the Queen,”
With “Britannia Rules the Waves,”
I like a red cabbage from Turnham Green,
And Britons are――always slaves.
We are miserable, in this happy land,
Impossible things must be done;
For a mouldy crust, and water for thirst,
A Briton about doth run.
Oh, chanting where gay life is seen,
A fine old chant is “God Save the Queen.”
Chanting where gay life is seen,
A fine old chant is――“God Save the Queen.”
A. W. HUMPHREYS.
――――:o:――――
“IN THE GLOAMING.”
On the ocean, oh, my darling,
When it rocks us to and fro,
Don’t you think ’twere better, darling,
We should both go down below?
When the waves are tossing gently,
’Tis a sudden unknown woe
Prompts me _once_ again to ask you,
Would you like to go below?
In the gloaming, oh, my darling,
Cling not tenderly to me,
For I oft with shortened warning
Rush to view the deep blue sea;
And I feel all choked with something
Longing, struggling to be free;
It were best to leave me thus, dear,
Best for you, and best for me.
――――:o:――――
TEN LIBERAL UNIONISTS.
(_By Sir Wilfrid Lawson._)
Ten Liberal Unionists, kicking up a shine,
One went to _Burnley_, and then there were but nine.
Nine little Unionists, weeping o’er his fate,
Another went to _Ilkeston_, and then there were eight.
Eight little Unionists, trusting still in Heaven,
Fought a fight in _Cornwall_, and then there were seven.
Seven little Unionists, still up to tricks,
Had a fling at _Spalding_, and then there were six.
Six little Unionists, fresh and all alive,
Sent a man to _Coventry_, and then there were five.
Five little Unionists, valiant as before,
Tried their luck at _Glasgow_, and then there were four.
Four little Unionists, bumptious as could be,
Had a shot at _Northwich_, and then there were three.
Three little Unionists, looking rather blue,
Thomas Russell left them, and then there were two.
Two little Unionists, feeling rather done,
Joe cut a summersault, and then there was one.
One little Hartington, sitting all alone,
He joined the Tories, and then there were none.
_Pall Mall Gazette._ 1887.
――――:o:――――
THE LOST DISCORD.
Standing one day at his organ,
The grinder seemed quite at ease,
With his monkey idly chasing
The far too-industrious fleas.
I know not what he was playing
(For I was composing then),
But I heard someone curse that organ,
And I murmured a great “Amen!”
That discord, it filled the silence
With a sound as of tom-cats lorn;
It racked my brain like a nightmare,
It was worse than an oil-cloth torn.
It was like inharmonious yelling;
It made all the street-dogs whine,
It seems that the soul of that organ
Had spitefully gone for mine.
So I made for that organ-grinder,
And swore that I’d break each limb;
And his monkey his fleas ceased chasing,
When he saw I meant chasing him.
It may be in some other quarter
He’s playing that air――and then,
If someone is smashing his organ,
I fervently say, “Amen!”
_Judy._ May 26, 1886.
――――
YE BICYCLISTS OF ENGLAND.
Ye Bicyclists of England
Who stride your wheels with ease,
How little do you think upon
What Mr. Sturmey[83] sees.
The Wheelman’s standard rises high
With every year that goes,
Wheels sweep, fast and cheap,
Whereof Sturmey’s trumpet blows――
Our cycles range more swift and strong,
And Sturmey’s trumpet blows――
* * * * *
The “meteor” wheels of England
Shall yet terrific turn;
’Tis true that France gave us a start――
Now she has much to learn.
To you, our brave wheel-warriors,
Our song and glass shall flow;
To the fame of your name
Mr. Sturmey’s trumpets blow――
Cycles or Cyclists, _ours_ are best,
So why should we _not_ blow?
_Punch._ October 1, 1887
――――:o:――――
THE SONG OF BILLIAWATHA.[84]
Should you ask me whence these Indians?
Whence these cowboys, whence these riders,
Whence these Red Shirts and these shootists,
With their tomahawks and war-paint,
With their mustangs and buck jumpers,
With their lassoes, with their rifles,
With the savour of the prairies,
With a smack of Reid and Cooper,
And of melodrama on them?
I should answer――I should tell you
Buffalo, the great Bill, found them,
Brought them from their camps and wigwams,
From their lodges on the prairies
In the great Show land of Barnum,
In the clime of Minnie Palmer;
Brought them here to Earl’s Court, Brompton,
Where the Lohndahner, the Cochneh,
Will throughout the Lohndahn season
Flock in troops to gaze and wonder
At their prowess with the bronchoes,
At their dextrous use of lasso,
At their deadly skill with rifle;
Wonder how the deuce they do it,
Wonder what the men are made of,
How on earth they learned such dodges.
If still further you should ask me
What’s the use of all these cowboys?
What’s the good of these wild Red men?
What’s to us this coach of Deadwood,
Or this railroad, the Switchback?
I should answer your conundrums
In the straitest tips as follow:
In the wilds of Kensingtonia,
In the land of Exhibitions,
Where the Fisheries, the Health’ries,
The Invent’ries, the Colindries
Drew their thousands, drew the masses,
Drew the town for four past seasons,
Something new to-day is wanted,
Something to revive the glories
Of those sights and shows now played out;
Something fresh must be provided,
So the Lohndahner, the Cochneh,
The Prohvinshial, the Yohkehl
Still may find congenial pastime,
Still may revel through the summer
Nights, and puff the penny Piquewique;
Feast his eyes with coloured lanterns,
And his inner man with “cocktails,”
Soothe his soul with “corpse revivers,”
Steep himself in “maiden’s blushes,”
List the strains of martial music,
Mash the merry maids of Bertram.
Hence these Yank’ries, these Cowboyries,
Hence these Westeries, these Wigwamries,
With the customs of the prairies,
With their buffaloes and mustangs,
With their skilful shooting maidens,
With the squaws and their papooses,
With the plundered coach of Deadwood,
And the toboggin and Switchback,
And the drinks of Yankee Doodle.
_Judy._ June 1, 1887.
――――:o:――――
W. S. GILBERT’S SONGS.
A CRACKSMAN’S CAROL.
[A burglar, who was recently arrested, was proved to have a yacht of
his own, on which he went sailing when not on burgling bent.
Doubtless, in the fulness of time, the noble army of cracksmen will
thus carol in a Gilbertian strain.]
AIR――_Policemen’s Chorus_ (“_Pirates of Penzance._”)
When the window “prising” burglar’s not a-burgling――not
a-burgling,
He doesn’t rush to some mere rural spot,
And listen to the rivulet a-gurgling――’let a-gurgling,
But skims along the ocean in his yacht.
When his “lay” has been of “Ooftish” most productive――most
productive,
And he finds the land is getting rather “hot,”
Then he tries a pastime soothing and instructive――and
instructive,
For he bounds across the billows in his yacht.
When no “swag” is for the present to be got――to be got,
He loves to go and navigate his yacht――’gate his yacht.
When the cracksman rests awhile from his employment――his
employment,
With his “jemmy” and his skeletonian key,
Then he feels as how he ought to seek enjoyment――seek
enjoyment,
By inhaling of the breezes of the sea.
When officious “slops” and “’tecs” would dare pursue him――dare
pursue him,
And his whereabouts they’re likely for to “spot,”
Then in search of recreation you may view him――yes, you’ll view
him,
Large as life enjoying _otium_ in his yacht.
For a-lurking on the land is “Tommy-Rot”――“Tommy Rot,”
So off he goes a-sailin’ in his yacht――in his yacht.
_Fun._ June 1, 1887.
――――
IT REALLY DOESN’T MATTER!
_Trevelyan._
My eyes were fully open to my awful situation――
So I went at once to Gladstone, and I made him an oration.
I explained to him that I once more was in my proper senses,
And was willing to back up Home Rule and take the consequences;
That I did not want to perish by desertion of my party,
To descend into oblivion like Goschen had, and Harty.
He accepted my apologies with pleasure that did flatter,
As he said I’d been mistaken, and it really didn’t matter!
_Cham._――And it really didn’t matter!
That it really didn’t matter, matter, matter,
matter, matter!
_Chamberlain._
If I were not so deeply pledged to mingle with the Tories,
I should like once more to join in my former leader’s glories;
For I’m very much afraid that I have got into a mire,
And lowered my position, sirs, instead of rising higher;
My brain is getting weaker, I was once considered clever,
I have voted for Coercion that’s to linger on for ever;
To act like this I must have been as mad as any hatter,
But as I can’t retrace my steps, it really doesn’t matter!
_Trev._――It really doesn’t matter!
It really doesn’t matter, matter, matter, matter,
matter!
_Pall Mall Gazette._ August 15, 1887.
――――
THE MODEL AMERICAN GIRL.
A practical, plain young girl;
Not afraid-of-the-rain young girl;
A poetical posy,
A ruddy and rosy,
A helper-of-self young girl.
At home-in-her-place young girl;
A never-will-lace young girl;
A toiler serene,
A life pure and clean.
A princess-of-peace young girl.
A wear-her-own-hair young girl;
A free-from-a-stare young girl;
Improves every hour,
No sickly sunflower,
A wealth-of-rare-sense young girl;
Plenty-room-in-her-shoes young girl;
No indulger-in-blues young girl;
Not a bang on her brow,
To fraud not a bow,
She’s a just-what-she-seems young girl.
Not a reader-of-trash young girl;
Not a cheap-jewelled-flash young girl;
Not a sipper of rum
Nor a chewer of gum,
A marvel-of-sense young girl.
An early-retiring young girl;
An active, aspiring young girl;
A morning ariser,
A dandy-despiser,
A progressive, American girl.
A lover-of-prose young girl;
Not a turn-up-your-nose young girl;
Not given to splutter,
Nor “utterly utter.”
But a-matter-of-fact young girl.
A rightly-ambitious young girl;
Red-lips-most-delicious young girl;
A sparkling clear eye
That says “I will try,”
A sure-to-succeed young girl.
An honestly-courting young girl;
A never-seen-flirting young girl;
A quiet and pure,
A modest, demure,
A fit-for-a-wife young girl.
A sought-everywhere young girl;
A future-most-fair young girl;
An ever-discreet
We too seldom meet
This queen-among-queens young girl.
ANONYMOUS.
A somewhat similar American parody will be found on page 128.
――――
THE HOME SECRETARY’S SONG.
“It is announced this morning that ‘the Home Secretary will address a
meeting of his constituents in the Birmingham Town Hall on Monday
next. On Tuesday he will open the new premises of the Aston
Conservative Club, and on Wednesday attend ward meetings in the
division he represents.’ The following song has, we understand, been
expressly written for the Minister’s use on this occasion.”
Henceforth all the crimes that I find in the _Times_,
I vow I’ll investigate daily;
For ignorance crass, like I showed to Miss Cass,
Makes life go by not at all gaily;
No kudos receiving for Lipski’s reprieving,
The Salvation Army disgraces,
The child-mother sentence, my tardy repentance,
And numerous similar cases.
To have me in the Cabinet’s awfully nice,
But I fear I shall cost them a terrible price!
The new special pleaders, the writers of leaders,
Come down on my faults like a hammer,
To teach me the beauty of doing my duty,
Yet I falter, and struggle, and stammer.
Oh, Balfour and Goschen! you have not a notion,
What a terrible life I am leading;
For my faults blazoned get in the _Pall Mall Gazette_,
While they mock at my manners and breeding.
To give me a place was exceedingly nice,
But I fear I shall cost you a terrible price.
Each day when I rise, lo, another surprise
I feel will o’erwhelm me with wonder;
If I walk through the street, I am certain to meet
With placards denouncing some blunder;
The position I’ve got is uncomfort’bly hot,
For the public is getting so touchy,
Next time there’s a race for the prize of a place
I shall try to jump into the Duchy;
For to be in the Cabinet’s awfully nice,
But the honour is rather too much for the price.
_Pall Mall Gazette._ September 13, 1887.
CUMBERLAND, KING!
_The Mélange_, published in Liverpool in 1834. contained a number of
songs of “High Tory and No Popery” sentiments, such as “Up,
Protestants, Up!” in which the Pope and the Devil were ranged side by
side, and a parody entitled “_Rouse, Britons! Arouse_.” Also the
following verses to the tune of “God Save the King.”
Thy choicest curse in store,
On _George_ be pleased to pour,
The traitor King!
He has abused the laws,
Slighted the Brunswick cause,
Then hail with loud applause,
Cumberland, King!
Oh, may the Duke of Wel-
Lington and Peel to Hell
Go hand in hand;
While _Clarence_ and his crew,
Popish O’Connell too,
Homage are forced to do
To Cumberland!
This was evidently written before the death of George IV. in 1830; he
was succeeded by William, the _Clarence_ alluded to in the song. King
William was suspected of having Liberal leanings, and an Orange plot
existed to displace him and put his brother Ernest, Duke of
Cumberland, on the throne, thus entirely excluding the Princess
Victoria from the succession. This plot was exposed by Joseph Hume;
but it never had any chance of success, for the Duke of Cumberland,
profligate, brutal, and overbearing, was thoroughly hated by the
English people. On the death of William IV. Cumberland became King of
Hanover, and this country was finally relieved of his presence, and
his plots. In the time of the Georges the following additional verse
was sometimes sung:――
God save great George our King,
Long live our noble King,
God save the King.
Send us roast beef a store,
If it’s gone send us more,
And the key of the cellar door,
That we may drink.
[Illustration]
“DRUIDICAL SONGS, by _James Wilson_, A.D. (_i.e._, _Ancient Druid_),
of Lodge 91. Adapted to popular and well-known tunes.” George Elliott,
Blackfriars Road. London, 1839.――This pamphlet of 48 pages contains a
number of songs in praise of the Ancient Order of Druids, to be sung
to once popular airs, the majority of which are now quite forgotten.
They are not actual Parodies.
“CORN LAW RHYMES, and other Poems” by Ebenezer Elliott, London. B.
Steill, 1844, contained parodies of “Robin Adair,” “Scots wha hae,”
“Rule Britannia,” &c., all relating to the scarcity of food, and the
protective duties.
“SONGS OF THE PRESS, _and other Poems_,” original and selected, by C.
H. Timperley. London. Fisher, Son and Co. 1845.――This amusing work
contains a number of songs adapted to popular airs; they are very
technical in their language, and only those already quoted can be
styled Parodies.
“MOTLEY,” by Cuthbert Bede, B.A., published in 1855 by James
Blackwood, London, contained a number of imitations of the popular
songs of the day. Most of them related to incidents in the Crimean
War. Professor Browne, of Fenchurch Street, London, hair-dresser and
wig maker, has for more than twenty-five years issued small almanacs
to his customers. These have contained a number of curious parodies
relating to the Professor’s business, and praising his skill and
enterprise. In some cases the humour of these productions was very
quaint and grotesque.
Numerous short parodies of popular songs are to be found in the
theatrical burlesques and extravaganzas produced during the last fifty
years. As a rule they consist of a few couplets only, and possess no
interest apart from their context. Hundreds of these ephemeral _jeux
d’esprit_ have been produced, and the following are the names of the
most prolific authors of dramatic burlesques:――Vincent Amcotts;
Captain Arbuthnot; William and R. B. Brough; Leicester Buckingham; F.
C. Burnand; H. J. Byron; Gilbert A. A’Beckett; C. Dance; Maurice G.
Dowling; W. S. Gilbert; H. Such Granville; A. Halliday; W. H. Oxberry;
J. R. Planché; R. Reece; William Rogers; Francis Talfourd, and Charles
Selby.
A more detailed account of dramatic burlesques will be given in a
future volume.
Amongst collections of songs written for societies, such as the
Freemasons, Druids, Anglers, Cricket and Football Clubs, Conservative,
Liberal, and Radical Associations, many are to be found written to the
airs of popular songs. As a rule these are not parodies.
There are numerous advertisement parodies of songs, some of
considerable merit; the best of these have been quoted.
Some purely unintentional travesties of songs are really the most
laughable and amusing, as, for instance, the absurd translations given
in the English libretti of the Italian operas. Those who can
appreciate comic songs should certainly also read Messrs. Augner’s
edition of Schubert’s songs with English and German words. The song
“Alinde” commences thus in the English version: “The sun sinks down
into the meer, forth hast she not ridden?” This is intended to be a
translation of “Die Sonne sinkt in’s tiefe meer, da wollte sie nicht
kommen.” What is a meer? In several other cases the German word meer
(sea) is translated meer. As a second example take “_The Fisher_.”
“The water rushed, the water swelled, A fisher there bestow’d, With
lazy angle, felt the hush, His heart with coolness load!” How could
any man with his wits about him write such arrant nonsense? It
certainly seems like an attempt to translate literally, but in the
“Nachtstück” (night piece) an unpardonable deviation is made from the
original. “Luna mit gewölken kämpft” we are told means “Luna camped
upon the clouds!” Last, but not least, in that exquisite little song
“Der Tod und das Mädchen,” which is unpoetically called “Death and the
Girl,” the German runs thus: “Vor über ach vor über, geh wilder
knochenmann.” Surely the translator struck the summit of absurdity in
rendering it, “Pass onward, pass onward, wild man with skinless bone!”
It is not a matter for surprise that we seldom hear any of Schubert’s
works, except perhaps “Ave Maria,” in an English drawing-room, when
the translations offered are hardly fit for nigger minstrels. There is
much room for improvement in the poetry of our modern popular
sentimental songs, whether intended for the stage, or the concert
room. Yet ridiculous as these often are, they do not approach the
nonsense, called translations from Italian, French, or German songs,
where the effort required to render the sense in a metre suitable to
the melody seems too much for any ordinary translator to cope with.
――――
MORE ABOUT LORD TENNYSON’S JUBILEE ODE.
Several parodies of this Ode were given in Part 43 (June) but since
then some others have appeared.
The universal opinion that Tennyson’s poem was a failure, and
altogether unworthy of his reputation has been expressed in several
ways, one London evening paper printed a couple of the Laureate’s
verses “as they ought to be” thus:――
“You then loyally, all of you, deck your houses, illuminate all your
towns for a festival, and in each let a multitude loyal, each, to the
heart of it one full voice of allegiance, hail the great Ceremonial of
this year of her Jubilee.”
“You, the Patriot Architect, shape a stately memorial, make it regally
gorgeous, some Imperial Institute, rich in symbol, in ornament, which
may speak to the centuries, all the centuries after us, of this year
of her Jubilee.”
Instead of being poetry of transcendent merit, it seems to be a poor
imitation of the language of Scripture. Others declare it to be an
imitation of the style of WALT WHITMAN, and the Ode has even been
compared to a badly-written catalogue! One satirist went so far as to
plead in the Laureate’s latest style:――
You, the Patriot poet,
Shape a statelier poem;
Leave out “regally gorgeous,”
Cut the Imperial Institute,
Or we, weary, uncomforted,
And we needy unbanqueted,
Seeing how maimed are your verses,
Joy not this year of the Jubilee.
――――
“TENNY THE BARON’S” JUBILEE ODE.
I.
Fifty times my poor nose you have broken,
Fifty times my gore you have spilled,
Since I stood with you in corded ring.
II.
He was trained by an ancient bruiser,
Learned in art of self-defence,
Slugger champion of England,
Owner of a silver belt,
Never worn by a worthier,
Now with murderous auguries
Comes at last to spoil my beauty,
In this blooming year of Jubilee.
III.
Nothing of the common, of the magsman,
Nothing of the vulgar or vainglorious,
All is cruel, slogging, hard and manly.
IV.
You hit me savagely――yes, you did!
Brought my claret as you struck
My eyes and nose and cheeks,
And from each let quarts pour
Red and gory down my battered chest.
One full blow aimed at proboscis
Hurled me clean to mother earth
In this the year of Jubilee.
V.
Stars as large as Spanish onions
Dazzling in my peepers came,
Tingling through me from my conk to hoof.
VI.
You, that wanton in your sparring,
Spare me! Do not now be bountiful.
Take your mawleys from my optics,
Do not knock them both in one,
Keep me safely from hospital,
Let my weary frame be comforted,
Let my aching pegs rejoice,
In this the year of Jubilee.
VII.
Sayers’s blows are all in shadow,
Gray with distance Greenfield’s sloggers,
Even Mace’s left forgotten.
VIII.
You, the champion architect,
Shape memorial of your skill,
Make my nose so grandly gorgeous,
Like some great Imperial Institute,
Rich in colour, and of size
Which seems like growth of centuries;
All the centuries that come after us,
In this the year of Jubilee.
IX.
Fifty times of ever-pounding business!
Fifty times of ever-striking science!
Fifty times of ever-widening gashes!
X.
You, the mighty and the bruiser,
You the slashing lord of blows,
You the bump-manufacturer,
You the hardy-fisted one,
Busiest child of Albion,
You, the thumper, scruncher,
Mug-demolisher, and puncher,
All your blows have hit me hard,
All my blows you countered well,
Saying, “Go to grass, you duffer,
In this the year of Jubilee!”
XI.
Are there seconds moving in my corner?
They seem spectres in the darkness!
Wash the blood from out my peepers,
So I may some little see.
Smith is victor, toss the sponge up,
In this year of Jubilee.
ITHURIEL.
_The Topical Times._ June 18, 1887.
――――
ANOTHER VERSION.
I.
Fifty years your verses have been fading,
Fifty years your golden harvest rising,
And now you publish stuff not fit to wrap butter in.
II.
This drivel of an agèd driveller
Is dear at any price,――not readable,
Such prosy rubbish takes up
Good space that others might
Have filled more profitably,
Macmillan ought to be ashamed
To print such abject rot.
III.
Nothing of the Poet of the Idylls;
Nothing but Prose, the very commonest
All for disgraceful greed and most unseemly.
ANONYMOUS.
――――
AN ODE-OUS PARODY.
I.
Fifty times we’ve planted kail and used it,
Fifty times we’ve dug our own potatoes,
Since our Queen came into luck uncommon.
II.
She, beloved for a negative
Virtue quite neutral to history.
Queen of realms she ne’er looked upon.
Holding fast to the dignities
None e’er clung to more jealously,
Now is looking for perquisites,
Sends her son with the hat for them
Round this year of her Jubilee.
III.
She knows well her “neck has got a lith in’t,”
In her manners she’s genteel, and not too loud,
Does not boss too much about her shanty.
IV.
Trim your lamps every one of you,
Or put dips in your window panes.
Don’t grudge candles or paraffin,
And be sure you make noise enough,
Make all deaf with your loyalty,
Shout your shoutingest shoutingly,
Hold high-jink’d Saturnalia
In this year of her Jubilee.
V.
Queen as true to motherhood as Queenhood.
Giving many Princes to her people,
With Princesses that she weds to Germans.
VI.
You, with many full money-bags,
Slit a hole in the side of one,
Give a square meal to Lazarus.
Give three acres and cow to him,
Put your names on subscription lists,
Follow fashion in charity,
Help the fadders to fad a bit,
Give all round, and be sure to give
Well to help on her Jubilee.
VII.
Hal’s half-hundred years are nigh forgotten,
Nobody now prates of Ned’s long ruling,
Ev’n the Farmer’s record’s hardly mentioned.
VIII.
You, who get the big job to do,
Do your best with your stone and lime,
Use no gingerbread artifice,
Raise a pile that can stand a look,
Something all will can wonder at,
Which may stand for a year or two,
Tho’ our children may laugh at us
For our Juggernaut Jubilee.
IX.
Fifty years of pretty heavy taxes
Fifty years of not too much to pay them,
Fifty years of learning how to do it.
X.
You, the Swell by heredity,
You, the Landlord all talk about,
You, the Master men strike against,
You, of soil horny-handed sons,
Burdened brood of Britannia,
You, whatever your country be,
You, or white, black or copper-head,
All your hands in your pockets put,
Or your pockets’ equivalent,
Give, altho’ you should starve for it,
Gold to help on her Jubilee.
XI.
Are then those that mutter, discontented,
That to give were little short of madness?
Trust the Prince to lighten all their purses
With a juggler pass that makes coin vanish,
And Victoria Victrix shall be honoured
With a gift unequalled in the ages.
WILLIAM A. SLOAN.
END OF VOLUME IV.
[Illustration]
Footnotes:
[1] I dreamed I was the Amateur Champion.
[2] Oh! Lor.
[3] LORD GRANVILLE.
[4] The winner of “The Oaks” in 1867.
[5] These three verses are often omitted.
[6] This song was written before “The Fleet” prison was
abolished.
[7] Boxing-gloves.
[8] _Note_:――Willy-force, i.e. Wilberforce.
[9] Alluding to Mr. Gladstone’s trip on board the _Pembroke
Castle_, in September, 1883, when the Poet Laureate was
also a guest of Sir Donald Currie.
[10] Formerly the “Star” Hotel, now the “Clarendon.”
[11] The late Viscount Ranelagh, Colonel of the South
Middlesex Rifles, was one of the earliest and most
enthusiastic supporters of the Volunteer movement. He
originated the Easter manœuvres, and was exceedingly
popular with the Metropolitan Volunteers.
[12] Charles James Fox.
[13] Alluding to the title of _Baronet_ then newly
instituted by James I, who created the first Baronet, Sir
Nicholas Bacon, May 22, 1611. King James, being in need of
money to suppress a revolt in Ulster, sold this new title
somewhat indiscriminately, and so raised a large sum.
[14] These ancient political prophecies are amusing
reading, but require some little explanation. In July,
1849, Baron Lionel de Rothschild was elected M.P. for the
City of London, with 6,619 votes, whilst his opponent, Lord
John Manners, only polled 3,104. But Baron Rothschild was
not then allowed to take his seat, nor was it until he had
been thrice again elected M.P. that he was permitted to
enter the House of Commons in July, 1858. Shortly
afterwards a special act was passed permitting Jewish
M.P.’s to omit from the oath the words, “on the faith of a
Christian;” since then many eminent Jews have been elected
to the House of Commons, where they have generally
supported the party which formerly opposed, to the very
utmost, the extension to them of civil rights and political
equality.
[15] A contiguous pack; but very inferior.
[16] Jack Goddard, the first whip; and the first of whips.
[17] The name which Jim bestowed on the “little pack,”
because they could fly and work all day.
[18] An allusion to _The Daily Telegraph_ (London), which
had published a very sensational report of a fight between
a man and a dog.
[19] The Rt. Hon. William Pitt, Chancellor of the
Exchequer, was second son of the famous Earl of Chatham who
had advocated conciliatory measures in dealing with the
American Colonies, a policy which was very distasteful to
the King and Court. Whereas his son afterwards supported
the views of the King in opposition to the majority in the
House of Commons.
[20] The Poor Law Commissioners had refused to allow any
charitable person to send in supplies of roast-beef and
plum-pudding upon Christmas Day to the inmates of the
Workhouses.
[21] Dr. E. V. Kenealy.
[22] Lord Mayor of London
[23] Commander of the royal troops against the Scots in the
1745 rebellion.
[24] Lord Coleridge.
[25] A skit on Lord Wolseley.
[26] Mr. Gilbert appears particularly fond of this refrain,
which he user, with certain variations, again and again. He
probably borrowed it from a song popular about 200 years
ago:――
THE POOR SOUL SAT SIGHING.
The poor soul sat sighing by a sicamore tree;
Sing willow, willow, willow!
With his hand in his bosom, and his head upon his knee;
Oh! willow, willow, willow, willow, oh!
Willow, willow, willow, willow,
Shall be my garland:
Sing all a green willow, willow, willow, willow,
Ah me! the green willow must be my garland.
* * * * *
[27] Mr. Goschen proposed to reduce the Income Tax from 8d.
to 7d. in the £, and to take off 4d. in the lb. from the
duty on tobacco, a concession from which the consumer will
not reap the smallest benefit.
[28] On the boot tree. This is a poetical intimation that
the singer does not intend going out for a walk.
[29] A red star affixed to the frame, or picture, denotes
that the picture is sold.――_Academy Catalogue._
[30] Louis Phillippe.
[31] Napoleon III.
[32] Alluding to the complete and sudden change in the
political creed of _The Daily Telegraph_. (London.)
[33] The Duke of Marlborough.
[34] “Old King Cole” as he was familiarly known, was a
fussy little old gentleman who founded the _clique_,
notorious as the “South Kensington Gang,” which for the
last twenty years has enriched itself at the expense of the
nation.
[35] Lord Randolph Churchill.
[36] The authors, as in gallantry bound, wish this lady to
continue anonymous.
[37] Henry Phillpotts, Bishop of Exeter, was a notorious
controversialist and pamphleteer. He became very unpopular
in his diocese owing to his stern and bigoted conduct. He
was strongly opposed to the emancipation of the Roman
Catholics.
[38] Mr. J. L. Hatton, the composer of _Old Simon the
Cellarer_, _The Friars of Orders Grey_, _The Leather
Bottel_, “_Good bye, Sweetheart, good bye_,” and a number
of other popular songs and ballads, died at Margate in
September 1886, at the age of 77. He had long been
connected with the Orchestras of the principal London
theatres.
[39] _Salad_, yes, by all means, only let it be eaten from
a separate plate. But _Pickles_ with _hot_ roast mutton?
Perish the thought! Red currant jelly if thou wilt, but
_Pickles_――never!――ED. _P._
[40] This song was introduced into Davenant’s comedy of
_The Rivals_, 1668; but is probably still older. The phrase
to “marry with a rush ring,” is introduced in the ancient
ballad of “The Winchester Wedding:”――
“And Tommy was loving to Kitty,
And wedded her with a rush ring.”
Meaning a marriage without the rites of religion, and to be
dissolved at the will of the parties as easily as a rush
ring may be broken.
[41] To the shade of Benjamin Disraeli.
[42] The Annual Cattle Shows of the Smithfield Club were
formerly held in the Baker Street Bazaar.
[43] This clever parody has reference to the attempt made
by the Duke of Northumberland to evade the payment of Mr.
Pitt’s Income-tax. To mitigate the severity of the pressure
on persons with large families, a deduction of ten per
cent. was allowed to persons who had above a certain number
of children. Amongst others the wealthy Duke of
Northumberland was not ashamed to avail himself of this
clause.
[44] Sir Hugh Smithson married the Lady Elizabeth, daughter
and only child of the Duke of Northumberland, who died in
1750. In the same year he obtained an Act of Parliament,
authorizing him to assume the surname and arms of Percy. In
1767 the King created him Earl Percy and Duke of
Northumberland. The hero of this ballad was the eldest son
of this marriage.
[45] This alludes to Mr. Pitt’s Tax upon Hair-powder, which
turned out a failure; the public declining its use rather
than pay the tax. Those who continued it were called
“_guinea-pigs_,” the tax being a guinea per head.
[46] Sir Robert Peel.
[47] _Chevy._――To rudely harass or brutally bait.
[48] Sir Stafford Northcote.
[49] Lord Randolph Churchill.
[50] Sir Michael Hicks Beach.
[51] Sir Redvers Buller.
[52] The Bill for the suppression of Corrupt Practices at
Elections.
[53] Brasen Nose College, Oxford.
[54] Landlord
[55] Nowhere
[56] Brandy and pint-measure of beer
[57] Songs
[58] German Students’ songs
[59] Waitress.
[60] Overseers.
[61] This play, Langbaine says, was written by Shakespeare.
[62] Jonson had the palsy at the time.
[63] The names of several of Jonson’s Dramatis Personæ.
[64] New Inn, Act iii. Scene 2.――Act iv. Scene 4.
[65] This break was purposely designed by the poet, to
expose that equally singular one in Ben’s third stanza.
[66] Richard Broome, wrote with success several comedies.
He had been the amanuensis or attendant of Ben Jonson.
[67] The lines――
“Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage,”
were evidently suggested by Shakspeare:――
“Nor stony tower nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit.”
_Julius Cæsar_ Act I. Sc. iii.
[68] The following well-known glee is formed on this song:――
“He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober,
Falls as the leaves do, and dies in October;
But he who goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow,
Lives as he ought to do, and dies an honest fellow.”
[69] Sir E. J. Reed, M.P.
[70] Charles Dickens then resided at Gad’s Hill, near
Rochester, Kent.
[71] The Young Tory Leader, Lord Randolph Churchill.
[72] Mr. Joseph Chamberlain.
[73] Referring to a prize-fight between Randal and Martin.
[74] Shandon Church, in the city of Cork.
[75] _Frazer’s Magazine_ first appeared February 1, 1830,
and Father Prout was one of its earliest contributors. It
was discontinued in 1882.
[76] “Big Ben” of Westminster, which was cast in 1855, and
weighs about 14 tons, is cracked, owing to an improper
mixture of the bell-metal in casting.
[77] Gaelic. _Sen Bhan Vochd_――poor old woman――an
affectionate name for Ireland.
[78] Bantry.
[79] _Angel-gold_ was of a finer kind than crown gold.
[80] Lord Charles Beresford’s resignation was not accepted.
[81] Editor of _The Daily Telegraph_.
[82] The name of a favourite Elephant killed in Exeter
Change in 1826.
[83] Mr. Sturmey has recently written a Handbook of
Bicycling.
[84] In the American Exhibition held at Earl’s Court in
1887, Colonel W. F. Cody, better known as _Buffalo Bill_,
with a troupe of cowboys and Indians, gave daily
performances entitled _The Wild West_.
INDEX.
The authors of the original songs are arranged in alphabetical order;
the titles of the original poems are printed in italics, followed by
the Parodies, the authors of which are named, in italics, wherever
possible.
――――
PAGE
Advertisement parodies 278
Corn Law Rhymes. 1844. _E. Elliott_ 278
Druidical songs. 1839. _J. Wilson_ 278
Leigh Hunt and _The Examiner_. 1813 101
Motley. 1855. _Cuthbert Bede_ 278
The New Whig Guide. _W. Wright._ 1819 255
Perfection. _T. Haynes Baily_ 42
Schubert’s songs in English translations 278
Songs of the Press. 1845. _C. H. Timperley_ 278
A Town Garland. _H. Sambrook Leigh_ 53
Theatrical burlesques and extravaganzas 278
A List of authors of the same 278
――――
Thomas Haynes Bayly.
_She wore a wreath of roses_ 42
He wore a brace of pistols. _Punch_ 42
He dined at Bertholini’s. _Albert Smith_ 42
He wore grey worsted stockings 43
He wore a suit of Moses 43
She wore a wreath of roses. _Shirley Brooks_ 43
He wore a pair of “mittens” 43
He rode a tandem tricycle 44
I saw her but a moment 44
_Oh! no, we never mention her_ 44
Oh! am I then remembered still 44
Oh no! we’ll never mention him. _R. H. Barham_ 45
Oh! no we never mention him. _The Gownsman_ 45
Oh no we never finger it. _Figaro_ 45
Oh! no! we never mention her! 45
Oh! no I say; don’t mention it 46
Oh! no, I never name my wife 46
Oh, no! I never mentioned it. _Lady Clarke_ 272
_I’d be a butterfly_ 46
Ah sim Papilio (Latin version) 46
I would not be a butterfly. _H. S. Leigh_ 47
I’d be a parody. _Sharpe’s Magazine_ 47
I’d be a rifleman. _Bentley Ballads_ 47
I make the butter fly. _G. O. Trevelyan_ 47
I’d be a Rothschild. _The Mirror_ 47
Me be a nigger boy. _Fraser’s Magazine_ 48
I’d be a minister. _Figaro_, 1833 48
I’d be a butterfly. _Punch_, 1856 48
I’d be a bottle-fly. _Blackwood_, 1828 273
_We met――’twas in a crowd_ 48
We met――’twas in a mob 49-50
We met――’twas in your shop 49
We met――’twas in St. Giles 49
We met――’twas on the ground 49
We met――’twas in a field 49
They met――’twas in a storm 49
We met――’twas in the House 50
We met in upper school 50
THE SOLDIER’S TEAR.
_Upon the hill he turned_ 50
Beside the church he stood 51
Upon his heel he turned. _Figaro_ 51
Upon the ground he stood. _Punch_ 51
In the street he turn’d 51
Against the rails he leant. _Shirley Brooks_ 52
Upon the pier he turned. _Punch_ 52
He turned upon his heel 52
Upon the hill he turned 272
The sapper’s beer. 1851 272
She stood beside the counter 272
Satins and silks I sang gravely and gaily 42
_Out John! out, John!_ 53
Out John (to John Bright). _Truth._ 1886 53
“Nay” John (Temperance song) 54
Out, Tom! (to Sir Thomas Brassey). _Truth_ 55
_Oh! the Old House at Home_ 55
A Parody from _A Bowl of Punch._ 1848 55
The Broadwood is opened. _Fun_ 52
I have taken ten glasses of sherry. _Fun_ 53
(Two Imitations of T. H. Bayly, by
Henry S. Leigh. 1871.)
――――
Alfred Bunn.
_The heart bowed down._
The sot bowed down by too much drink 33
_When other lips and other hearts._
When other months amid the range 33
When other lips and other eyes. _J. R. Planché_ 33
When other wits and other bards 33
_I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls_ 33
I dreamt that I stood in the Crystal Halls 34
I dreamt that I dined in Conservative halls 34
I dreamt that I sat in the House of Lords 34
I dreamt that I danced at Mabille balls 34
I dreamt that I dined on marbled beef 34
I dreamt that I dwelt. _H. Furniss_ 274
I dreamt that I gazed at the Marble Arch 274
_The light of other days is faded_ 179
The coat of other days is faded 179
The foggy Gin-Fluenza days 179
――――
Thomas Campbell.
_Ye gentlemen of England._ MARTYN PARKER 243
Ye pugilists of England. 1819 243
Ye President’s and L’Amy’s men 244
You grand old man of England 244
Ye barristers of England 244
Ye gentlemen of England 244
Ye Liberals of England 244
You noblemen of England 245
Ye Unionists of England 245
Ye cricketers of England 245
Ye bicyclists of England. _Punch_ 276
――――
Lewis Carroll.
_Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ 55
As a pantomime at Woolwich. _J. Addison_ 55
As a musical play. By _H. Savile Clarke_ 56
_The walrus and the carpenter._
“The sun was shining on the sea” 56
The vulture and the husbandman. 57
“The rain was raining cheerfully.” _Light Green_ 57
The Nyum Nyum chortled by the sea 57
_Jabberwocky._
“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves.” 58
Waggawocky. (on the Tichborne Trial) 59
“’Twas May-time, and the lawyer coves.” 59
Across the swiffling waves they went. _Truth._ 59
’Twas grilling hot, the bloky cove. ” 59
“Can you move a little faster?” ” 59
――――
Henry Carey.
_God save the King._ 111
Grand Dieu, Sauvez le Roy 111
God save Great George our King 111
Domine Salvum fac Regem. 1795. 112
Heil dir im Sieger Kranz 111
Version in honour of William IV. 112
Victory, Freedom and Fox. 1784. 113
Our Mother Church. 1790. 113
God save great Johnny Bull. 1809. 113
(Sung during the O. P. Riots)
Hail! Masonry Divine 114
God save the Rights of Man. 1820. 114
People! save yourselves. 1871. 114
“X” save our graceless Chief. 1884. 114
Down with the Lords. 1884. 115
God save Gladstone. 1885. 115
Soon will our gracious Queen. 1886 115
Verse composed on the Queen’s Marriage 115
Verse for the Jubilee year. 1887. 115
God bless our native land. 115
Bob shave great George our King 89
Cumberland, King! 278
Thy choicest curse in store 278
Orange plots against the throne 278
_Sally in our Alley_ 21
Of all the girls that are so smart 21
“The Rhino.” 1824 21
“Sally” in Latin. _In Saram_ G. K. Gillespie 21
Of all the flats with blunt that part. _Punch_ 21
Of all the Peers within the house 21
Of all the days that’s in the week 21, 23
Of all the folks in purse that smart 22
Of all tragediennes so smart. _Funny Folks_ 22
Of all the brutes I loathe to meet, 22
Of all the girls in our town. S. Brett 22
Of all the follies on our part. _Punch_ 23
Of all the Rads that are so smart 203
Of all the would-be witty Rads 203
――――
Eliza Cook.
_I love it, I love it._ (The old arm chair) 6
I loathe it, I loathe it! _Henry S. Leigh_ 6
I love it. (The new arm chair) _Punch_ 6
I loved it. (The Speaker’s chair) _Truth_ 6
I dread it, I dread it! _Funny Folks_ 7
I hate it. (The dentist’s chair) _Modern Society_ 7
That gridiron by the mantel-piece. After Eliza Cook 7
――――
Charles Dibdin.
THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN.
“_And did you ne’er hear of a jolly young Waterman?_” 66
And did you not hear of a jolly young barrister? 67
Oh, did you e’er hear of such jolly bad water man? 67
And did you ne’er hear of a jolly old waterman? 67
Oh! did you not hear of a handsome young clergyman? 67
Oh, did you ne’er hear of a jolly young trilobite? 67
And did you not hear of that luckless “young
gentleman?” 67
Oh! did you ne’er hear of a jolly old woodcutter?
(On Mr. Gladstone) 68
Did you ever hear tell of a jolly young rifleman?
(On Lord Ranelagh) 68
Did you ever hear tell of the jolly young waterman? 68
THE HIGH METTLED RACER 68
“_See, the course throng’d with gazers_” 68
See, the shore lined with gazers. _C. Dibdin_ 69
See, the house throng’d with members. 1832 69
Since of course we want razors. _Cuthbert Bede_ 69
See the pier throng’d with gazers! _Punch_ 69
The village born beauty 70
_My name d’ye see’s Tom Tough_ 70
Yes, my name d’ye see’s Tom Tough. _Truth_ 70
Yes, my name d’ye know’s Tom Tough. _Truth_ 71
_My Polly_
Do you want to know the ugliest craft? 80
_Wapping Old Stairs._
“Your Molly has never been false” 65
Untrue to my Ulric I never could be. _Thackeray_ 65
Adelina has flirted. _Punch_ 65
Your Fanny was never false hearted. _Thackeray_ 65
Your money will never be safe 65
_Tom Bowling._
“Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling” 65
Here a sheer hulk from fierce round bowling 66
Here, on the floor stands famed Tom Brassey 66
But a sheer wreck, sits poor Tom Noddy 66
“Drunken Sally.” By _L. M. Thornton_ 66
Here lies a bit of Tom Torpedo 268
A sheer hulk lies the “Devastation” 268
_’Twas post meridian, half-past four,_ 72
’Twas prime meridian, twelve at noon 72
’Twas when the great review was o’er 267
’Twas post meridian, half-past four 267
_As pensive one night in my garret I sate._ 72
I had knocked out the dust from my pipe 72
――――
Thomas Dibdin.
_Deserted by the waning moon_ 73
Deserted by the waning purse 73
Deserted by declining day 73
Hot from the guard room. _Punch_ 73
_Daddy Neptune one day_ 266
Henry Byron one day to A. Harris did say 266
(On the pantomime of Robinson Crusoe) _C. Bede_
_May we ne’er want a friend_ 73
An answer to the foregoing. _Tom Hood_ 73
Go, patter to Lords of the Admiralty 268
――――
Charles Dickens.
_Oh! a dainty plant is the Ivy green._ 9
Oh! a dreary print is the Daily News 9
Oh! a splendid soup is the true Pea green 9
Oh! a dainty growth is official routine. _Punch_ 10
Oh! a dainty plant is the Cabbage green 10
A fine old thing is the yard of clay 10
Oh, a rare old toper was I. V. Green. _Judy_ 11
Oh! a cunning “plant” doth the Jew I ween 275
Oh! a fine old chaunt is “God save the Queen.” 275
_They told him, gently she was dead._ 11
They told him gently he was mad 11
They told him gently she was gone 11
――――
Henry Fielding.
_The Roast Beef of Old England_ 104
The Kail-Brose o’ auld Scotland 104
Oh, the true Whigs of Old England. 1784 104
O! the white vests of Young England. 1844 104
Oh! the brown beer of Old England 105
The Frog and the Bull 105
Oh! the boiled beef of Old England. 1858 105
The Pauper’s Chaunt 106
O, the boiled beef of Australia. 1872 106
The glorious plum-pudding of England. 1879 106
――――
David Garrick.
_Come, cheer up my lads!_ 76
Come, cheer up my lads. 1784 76
” ” ” merry Christmas is near 76
” ” ” (for the Liverpool election 1812) 76
Unfurl the old flag. _J. T. Wright_ 77
The day dawns upon us. _J. H. Wheeler_ 77
Arouse, men of England. _D. Evans_ 77
Awake, sons of Britain 77
――――
W. S. Gilbert.
A list of his dramatic productions 116
_Trial by Jury_ 116
The Judge’s song 116
Song on Breach of Promise of Marriage 117
_H. M. S. Pinafore._
I am the Captain of the Pinafore 117
I am the Mahdi of Mid-Lothian 117
I am the Captain of this Home Rule corps 117
I’m the curse of my country. _Truth._ 1884 118
Joe Golightly, or the First Lord’s daughter 139
When I was a lad I served a term. (Disraeli.) 118
When he was a lad he served a term. (Garfield.) 118
Little Primrose’s song. (Lord Beaconsfield.) 119
Your Grace, we have important information 119
He is an Englishman. (Tichborne Claimant) 119
_The Pirates of Penzance._
Policemen’s chorus 120
Hem! I represent the law. 1883 120
Song by the Prince of Wales. 1884 120
When the Free and Independent goes a-voting 120
The Wheelist’s chorus. _A. Gibbons_ 120, 121
When Lord Beaky’s not engaged in lamentation 120
When a fellow finds in tennis his enjoyment 121
When the window “prising” burglar. _Fun_ 276
_Patience; or, Bunthorne’s Bride._ 1881 121
F. C. Burnand’s _The Colonel_ 121
The Pre-Raphaelite brotherhood 122
_The Æsthetic Movement in England_ 122
_When I first put this uniform on_ 122
The impecunious officer 122
Song on the Kilt by Prince Battenberg 122
When I first put Joe’s uniform on 123
_If you want a receipt for that popular mystery_ 123
If you want a resiet for a novel stenografy.
_The Phonetic Journal._ 1886 123
_If you’re anxious for to shine_ 124
If you want to cut a shine. _P. Bosecic_ 124
_Prithee, pretty maiden――prithee tell me true_ 124
Prithee, Vernon Harcourt. _The Sporting Times_ 124
Prithee, Secretary, what’s the latest news 125
Prithee, gentle working-man. _Truth._ 1883 125
“The Times,” newspaper blunders, and hoaxes 124
Sir W. Vernon Harcourt and the “Times” 124
Trio in “Patience,” by Duke, Colonel and Major 125
Trio in House of Commons by Lord R. Churchill,
Ashmead Bartlett, and Sir Drummond Wolff.
_Punch._ 1882 125
Song by the Social Belle. _Truth_ 126
“The St. James’s Gazette” on Mr. Joseph Chamberlain
in 1885 126
“A very long nosed young man,” and other verses on
the political celebrities of 1882 126
The flippity-flop young man. _H. Adams_ 127
On Sir Wilfrid Lawson, F. C. Burnand, Henry Irving,
Miss Terry, and General Booth 127
On the Daily Telegraph, Gladstone, Salisbury and Sir
Stafford Northcote 128
A common-place young girl 128
A practical, plain young girl 277
_Iolanthe; or, the Peer and the Peri_
When upon the stage we play. _The Referee_, 1883 128
A Lord Chief Justice, by common consent 129
I’m such a susceptible Chancellor 129
When I went to the Church 129
When I took my commission 129
When I went to the bar 130
When I hospitals walked 130
Said a Barrister, low, to himself 130
Said a British General 130
Said a West-end Tradesman 130
Said a jerry Builder 130
Said a City Alderman 130
Said a man of fashion 130
Said I to myself (Henry Irving) 130
When I went to the City (the masher) 131
Oh, nation gay (England to France) 131
Oh, foolish swain (Lawn Tennis) 131
_Princess Ida._
Henry George as the disagreeable man 132
If green cheddar you desire 132
I was not so very old 133
Of all the plans there are on earth 133
Ye who are cumbersome and slow 133
Common sense we bar 133
If you give me your attention. (Col. Knox) 133
_The Mikado._
On a battle field gory 134
Three little maids from school 134
On a seat in the garden 134
The flowers that bloom in the pot 135
The flowers that bloom in the spring 135
The Rads all the yokels to gain, tra la 139
At this general election, 1886 135
How much they’ve all been missed 135
Three little aids to health are we 136
In a cot by a river a lady forlorn 136
The Home Secretary’s song 277
_Ruddigore; or, the witch’s curse._ 136
Alterations, and omissions 137
Once upon a midnight dreary 137
Oh, why am I gloomy and sad 138
I once was a very abandoned person 138
Come hither, ye slaves of the weed 138
“Ruddy George,” at Toole’s Theatre 138
Roll on, thick haze, roll on 139
It really doesn’t matter 277
_Pygmalion and Galatea_ 139
Chiselling Pygmalion 139
The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree 140
_Bab Ballads_ 139
King Thebaw of Burmah 140
Thebaw was the king of the golden toe 141
A monarch of Burmah, I cannot tell why 141
A parody by F. B. Doveton 141
The Bishop and the Ballet 142
――――
Thomas Hood.
_The dream of Eugene Aram._
The dream of the Bilious Beadle. _A. Shirley_ 89
――――
Lady Arthur Hill.
_In the gloaming._
In the gloaming, oh! my darling! _Icycles_ 5
” ” ” ” _Judy_ 5
In the shooting, oh, my comrade. _A. H. Smith_ 5
In the gloaming, O my darlings! _Girls’ Own Paper_ 5
In the gloaming, oh, my proctor. _A. H. Smith_ 5
In the steamer, O my darling 63
On the ocean, oh, my darling 275
――――
Robert Herrick.
_Fair Daffodils we weep to see_ 39
Dear little bills, we weep to see. _H. Cayley_ 39
Order ye Wallsends while ye may 40
Why do I love my love 40
Ah, Ben! say how or when 181
A fine frank roughness in the dress 181
_Cherry ripe, ripe, I cry_ 40
There’s a garden in her face 40
Water-pipes, water-pipes, pipes, I cry 40
Coffee hot, coffee hot, hot, I cry 41
Rosy wine, rosy wine, wine we sip 41
Heavy wet, heavy wet, still I cry 41
Cherry pie! cherry pie! pie! I cry 41
Mutton chops, mutton chops, chops, I cry 41
Cherry bounce, cherry bounce, bounce, I cry 41
Guinea-pigs, guinea-pigs, pigs, I cry 41
Cats’ meat, cats’ meat, meat, I cry. _C. H. Ross_ 259
_Her pretty feet like snails did creep_ 41
Her feet beneath her petticoat. _J. Suckling_ 41
I die if I but spy. _Ernest Radford_ 259
――――
Ben Jonson.
BEN JONSON’S _Ode on the Stage_. 1631 212
An answer to the above by _Owen Feltham_ 212
Another reply by _Randolph_ 213
_Drink to me only with thine eyes_ 31
Drink to me only from a jug. 1823 31
Wink at me only with glass eye 31
Bring to me only, if you’re wise 31
Drink wine only with thy drugs 31
Rink to me only with thine ice 32
Talk to me only with thine eyes. _H. S. Leigh_ 32
Print for me only just one word 181
I sent thee late my able book 181
Come to my lobby with thy vote. _C. H. Waring_ 259
――――
Richard Lovelace.
TO ALTHEA.
_When Love, with unconfinèd Wings_ 214
Grey hairs do not a prophet make. _C. H. Waring_ 214
Champagne will not a dinner make 214
_Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind_ 214
Tell me not, sweet, it is a dodge 214
――――
Dr. Charles Mackay.
JOHN BROWN’S PHILOSOPHY.
“_I’ve a guinea I can spend_” 198
An answer to the above,
“I’ve listened to your song” _J. R. Planché_ 199
_Cheer, boys! cheer!_ 199
Beer! boys! beer! _J. A. Hardwick_ 199, 200
Vote, boys, vote! 199
_There’s a good time coming, boys_ 200
Curses on thee, haughty England 200
There’s a good road making, boys. 1846 201
I met the waiter in his prime 201
It’s a long time coming, boys. 1848 201
On the Salvation Army 202
Parody from _Songs for Liberal Electors_ 202
The past has proved a trying time 202
_To the West! To the West!_ 202
I’m in love! I’m in love! 202
_Far, far upon the Sea._
Pa, out upon the spree. _J. A. Hardwick_ 202
――――
Christopher Marlowe.
_Come live with me, and be my love_ 36
If all the world. _Sir W. Raleigh_ 37
The above in Izaak Walton’s “Angler,” 37
Come live with me. _F. C. Burnand_ 38
Come, rink with me. _Judy_ 38
Come dwell with me, and be my own 232
Come dine with me (on mutton chops) 232
Come, switch with me my cockney love 258
The Nymph’s reply 258
――――
Hon. Mrs. Norton.
THE ARAB’S FAREWELL TO HIS STEED.
“_My beautiful, my beautiful_” 260
The dying vendor of vegetables to his palfrey
of Jerusalem 260
A traveller’s farewell to his train 260
My――anything but beautiful. _P. F. Allen_ 261
My pewter full, my pewter full 261
My bicycle, my bicycle. _One and All_ 262
My beautiful, my bicycle 262
The Englishman’s farewell to his train 263
The public’s address to his cabman 263
The rinker’s farewell to her skates 263
_Bingen on the Rhine_ 264
St. Louis by the creek _Chicago Tribune_ 264
_Love not, ye hapless sons of clay!_ 13
Smoke not your weeds, nor pipes of clay 13
“Stay” not! no longer don. _Punch_ 14
Vote not for me, I pray. _Robert Lowe_ 14
――――
Adelaide Anne Proctor.
_I had a message to send her_ 2
I had a message to send her. _Funny Folks_ 2
I had a message to give her. _Fun_ 2
I’d another message to send her. 1876 64
_Seated one day at the organ_ 3
Batting one day at the Oval. _G. F. Grace_ 3
Seated one day on the organ. _Judy._ 1880 3
Seated at church in the winter. _A. H. S._ 4
Seated for years at the organ. _Punch_ 4
Seated one day at a _Café_. _Judy._ 4
Seated one day on an organ. _J. W. G. W._ 35
Seated one day at the window 35
Seated one day in her carriage. _George Grossmith_ 36
Standing one day at his organ. _Judy_ 275
――――
B. W. Proctor. (Barry Cornwall.)
_Sing! who sings?_ 203
Ride! who rides? 203
Dine! who’d dine? 204
_The sea, the sea, the open sea_ 204
The Cam, the Cam! the dirty Cam. 1836 204
The pipe, the pipe! the German pipe 204
The gin, the gin! Hodge’s cordial gin 204
The mail, the mail! the Royal mail 205
The road, the road! the turnpike road! 205
Of steak, of steak――of prime rump steak 205
The tea, the tea! the genuine tea! 206
The See, the See! the wealthy See! 206
The tea, the tea! the beef, beef tea! 206
The C! the C! the alto C! 206
The van, the van! the hurrying van! 207
The news, the news! the motley news 210
The press! the press! the glorious press! 210
_King Death was a rare old fellow_ 207
July is a rare old fellow 207
THE RETURN OF THE ADMIRAL.
“_How gallantly, how merrily we ride along the sea_” 207
The return of the omnibus. _Albert Smith._ 207
The Alderman. 1884 208
The cruise of the old admiral 208
The return of the Members. _Diogenes._ 1853 208
The term of the Freshman. _Canon Hole_ 209
The return to Tyrol. _Rev. J. W. Ebsworth_ 209
The baby in the train. _J. Ashby Sterry_ 209
――――
J. Howard Payne
_Home, sweet Home_ 26
Two additional verses and notes 26
The court of my sovereign. _Figaro._ 1832 27
’Mid fritters and lollipops 27
’Mid Westminster’s Palace. _Punch._ 1846 27
Though crosses and candles 27
Up courts and round palaces 27
From circuit to circuit 27
’Midst mansions and palaces. _Truth._ 1882 28
’Mid hardships and hovels. _Weekly Dispatch_ 28
Through clubdoms fair palaces ” 28
’Mid new courts and chambers ” 29
In Westminster Palaces ” 29
Though bidden to roam. _Truth._ 1885 29
Fond hearts bear its sweetness ” 29
In the Soudan desert ” 29
Though far from dear England ” 29
In joy or in sadness ” 29
Tho’ rich be our portion ” 29
I pray that I reach ” 29
How many in dreams ” 29
Like bird to its nest ” 29
’Mid falsehood and fallacies ” 30
’Mid soup, fish, and entrées ” 30
’Midst mansions or cottages ” 30
’Mid gin shops or “palaces” ” 30
’Mid pleasures and palaces ” 30
’Mid worry and bustle ” 30
Of all the strong drinks ” 30
In islands or continents ” 30
’Neath measures and policies ” 30
When worries and creditors ” 31
’Mid Ritualistic clergy ” 31
’Mid play sure, sand pal aces ” 31
_Index to catch lines of Choruses._
Home, home, sweet, sweet home 26
Place, place! sweet sweet place 27
Pomme! pomme! Beignet de Pomme! 27
Reid, Reid! doctor Reid 27
Rome, Rome! sweet, sweet Rome 27, 31
Home! home! they’ve no home 27
Home! home! vile, vile home! 28
Home! home! sweet rule of home! 29
Law, law, cheap, cheap law 30
Beef, beef, roast, roast beef 30
Tea, Tea, sweet, sweet tea! 30
Home, home, bleak, bleak home 30
Roam, roam, sweet to roam! 30
When spring cleaning times come 30
Rum, rum, good, good rum 30
Jones, Jones, still, still Jones 30
Home rule, rule at home 30
Boulogne! oh Boulogne! 31
Home rule! sweet home rule! 271
Ale, ale! Double X ale! 271
――――
Sir Walter Raleigh.
_Go soul, the body’s guest_ 211
Go, truth, unwelcome guest 212
_Shall I like a hermit dwell?_ 257
Shall I, wasting in despair. _G. Wither_ 257
Shall my heart be filled with care? 258
Shall I fret and fume and swear? _H. C. Merivale_ 258
――――
Richard Brinsley Sheridan.
Burlesques on his plays 195
The Critic Anticipated. 1779 195
Elizabeth; or, the Invisible Armada 195
The Ar-Rivals. 1884 195
Pizarro; a Spanish Rolla-king drama 259
Pizarro; or, the Leotard of Peru 259
_Here’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen_ 195
A health to the nut brown lass 196
Here’s to each Tory and Radical too 1845 196
Love, you must own, is a comical thing 196
Here’s to the voter whose terms are fifteen 196
Here’s to the ringman. _The Globe_ 197
Easter for maidens of bashful fifteen 197
Here’s to the man with a balance in hand 197
Here’s to the fresher not out of his teens 197
Here’s to the motley, mellifluous host 197
Smart Churchill, ’cute Chamberlain 198
All names of the male kind masculine call 259
_Had I a heart for falsehood framed_ 198
Had I a pound of tender steak 198
_This bottle’s the sun of our table_ 259
Bicycle’s the sun of our stable. _J. G. Dalton_ 259
――――
Sir John Suckling.
_Why so pale and wan, fond lover?_ 178
Why so sad and pale, fond lover? 1819 178
_Ballad upon a wedding_ 178
Aylesbury Races. _Sir J. H. Moore_ 178
――――
Algernon Charles Swinburne.
_The Question. The Daily Telegraph._ 1887 147
The Answer. _The Daily News._ 1887 147
――――
James Thomson.
RULE BRITANNIA 108
A Latin version. _Blackwood’s Magazine_ 108
When Canning’s name was first proclaim’d 109
When Britain first, impell’d by pride 109
When freedom’s foes mock labour’s groan 109
When first the South, to fury fanned 109
When faction at the De’ils command 110
When Beaconsfield, at civic board. 1879 110
Jingoes ever will be knaves 110
Brickbats never will be slates 110
――――
Lord Tennyson.
LORD TENNYSON’S JUBILEE ODE.
Macmillan’s Magazine. April, 1887 142
“_Fifty times the rose has flower’d_” 142
Fifty times the Laureate sharpened his pencil.
_The Globe_ 143
Fifty times the clown has grinned. _Punch_ 143
Fifty times the lines have slipped and halted.
_Scraps_ 144
Fifty times our nose has twirled and tilted.
_Moonshine_ 144
Fifty times seven days are past and ended.
_St. James’s Gazette_ 145
You, the Laureate (O Fortunate) 146
He, revered for a genius. _F. B. Doveton_ 146
Fifty times the State has fooled 146
Ye, who revel in authorship 146
She, disliked for a craftiness 146
(These five are from _The Weekly Dispatch._)
Fifty times my nose I’ve rubbed 147
The ode as it ought to be 279
Fifty times my nose you’ve broken 279
Fifty years your verses have been fading 279
Fifty times we’ve planted Kail and used it.
_W. A. Sloan_ 280
[Illustration]
IRISH SONGS.
Samuel Lover.
_Oh! Molly Bawn_ 246
Oh! Molly, pawn without repining 246
Oh! Robert Bawn, why leave me 246
_A baby was sleeping_ 246
A woman half sleeping 246
O come to the wild west. _M. P. Romer_ 246
THE LOW-BACKED CAR 246
_When first I saw sweet Peggy_ 18
When first I saw Miss Clara. _Diogenes_ 18
When first I used the railway. _Punch_ 18
The gin-shop bar. _J. A. Hardwick_ 246
When first I saw the Emperor. 1854 247
Count O’Cavoureen. _Shirley Brooks._ 1859 247
Kathleen Mavourneen’s answer 247
――――
Thomas Moore.
The days are gone when claret bright 252
Those bicycles, those bicycles. _J. G. Dalton_ 254
Strong and sure were the skates she wore 254
Where stood the bar, we’re building love 254
Oh! there is not in nature 254
Oft in the chilly night 254
Most Irish questions are about 254
_The minstrel boy to the wars has gone_ 254
The publican on his raid has gone 254
The militiaman to parade is gone 254
I knew by the dirt 254
I knew by the noise 255
I knew by the smoke 255
_Mary, I believed thee true_ 252
O Mary, I believed you true. _Thomas Hood_ 252
_’Tis the last rose of summer_ 253
Eheu rosarum floruit ultima! _Father Prout_ 253
’Tis the first rose of summer. _Judy_ 253
’Tis the last “quid” of many. _Fun_ 253
’Tis the last fly of summer 253
_The Bells of Shandon._――FATHER PROUT 247
In Memoriam! Father Prout 248
On Frazer’s Magazine. 1882 248
The bells I’ve shamm’d on 248
_Brian O’Lin had no coat to put on_ 249
Daniel O’Connell’d no mischief to brew 249
_You all knew Tom Moody_――ANDREW CHERRY 249
You all knew Pat Fagan 219
_The Lament of the Irish Emigrant._――LADY DUFFERIN
I’m sitting on the stile, Mary 16
I’m flitting in the style, Mary. _Diogenes_ 17
I’m sitting in a style, Mary. _Our Miscellany_ 17
I’m sitting in this style, Mary, _J. B. Oddfish_ 17
I’m sitting at my window, Jack 17
I left thee young and gay, Mary. _Eliza Cook_ 18
_Meet me by moonlight alone._――J. A. WADE 60, 249
Meet me, Miss Molly Malone 60
Meet me this evening alone 60
Meet me with Wimbush alone 60
Meet me at breakfast alone. _Punch_ 60
Viens au bosquet, ce soir. _F. Mahony_ 249
_Did ye hear of the Widow Malone?_――C. LEVER 250
You’ve all heard of Larry O’Toole. _W. M. Thackeray_ 250
Did you hear of Nordisa’s first night? 250
_Erin go Bragh_ 250
From Brest in the Bay of Biscay 250
THE SHAN VAN VOCHT
_Oh! the French are on the Sea_ 251
There’s a Dutchman in the town 251
_Ballyhooly._――R. MARTIN 251
The Parliamentary Ballyhooly 251
[Illustration]
SCOTCH SONGS.
Robert Burns.
_Scots wha hae_
Men whose fathers crushed the wrong 239
Where’s the girl can fear disdain? 239
Is there for honest policy. _W. E. Sadler_ 243
A rink’s a rink for a that. _A. W. Mackenzie_ 240
A man’s a man. _Charles Mackay_ 242
Is there for tenets Liberal. 1886 242
_Green grow the rushes O’_ 241
A latin version by _Father Prout_ 241
A Gladstonite lament, 1886 240
The wearing o’ the sashes, oh! 242
My Kitty O’, my Kitty O’. _M. Fahy_ 242
Randy Randolph Churchill, O! 234
_My Love is like the red, red rose_ 238
My love she has a red, red nose 239
My love he has a great red nose 239
Oh! where is our one policeman gone? 236
Oh! where does my own true lover stay? 236
The Broom cam capouring doon 237
The Belgians are coming, oh dear! 238
An Address to the game laws 239
Should auld habiliments be forgot? 239
Let auld acquantance be forgot 240
Ye German princes puir and proud 240
Should brandy ever be forgot? 240
Joe Chamberlain, my Joe 243
――――
Sir Walter Scott.
_Partant pour la Syrie._ Translation by Scott 183
_It was Dunois the young and brave_ 183
It was Bill Noyes, the yeoman brave 184
It was Dunupp, the hard beset 184
_To the Lords of Convention_ 237
To the House at Westminster 237
To the millions of England 237
To the Peers ’tis the People 237
The last pot of marmalade 237
March, march; daisies and buttercups 235
Lullaby in Guy Mannering.
Sleep, Mr. Speaker, ’tis surely fair. _W. M. Praed._ 182
_Maxwelton braes are bonnie_ 233
The Guildhall bench is funny 233
_I have heard the mavis singing_ 233
I have heard the cats a-squealing 233
_Let us haste to Kelvin Grove_ 235
Let us haste and join the chase 235
_I’m wearin’ awa’ John_――LADY NAIRNE 236
I’m frichtened for ye a’ weans 236
Where the poor cease to pay 236
_Behave yoursel’ before folk_ 234
An answer to the above, by _A. Rodger_ 234
As lonely I sat on a calm summer morn 235
Do you ken Arthur Peel? 230
Oh dear! what can the matter be? 233
_The flowers of the forest are a’ wede awa’_ 238
So mourn we to-night. _Daily News._ 1886 238
[Illustration]
WELSH SONGS.
_Taffy was a Welshman_ 255
Taffy is a Welshman. A complimentary version by
Shirley Brooks 255
The same in Welsh 256
Bouncer was a welsher 256
_The march of the men of Harlech._
On by love of costs we’re goaded 257
With blaze of fireworks, fêtes, &c. 257
Brothers, up, to win new glory 257
[Illustration]
MISCELLANEOUS SONGS.
_At the peaceful mid-night hour._――J. O’KEEFFE 179
A parody on the above 179
_A wet sheet and a flowing sea_ 229
With wet feet in a committee 229
_Alice Gray_
She’s all my fancy painted her 23
It’s all my fancy painted it. _Figaro_ 23
She’s naught my fancy painted her 23
He’s all his agent painted him 24
He’s all my fancy painted him 24
She’s not what fancy painted her. _Punch_ 24
She’s all the chimney sweep described 24
No wonder that they’ve painted her 24
She’s all my fancy painted her. _L. H. Sheridan_ 272
_A frog he would a wooing go._
John Kemble he would an acting go 192
Hal Clifford would a reforming go 192
Campbell would a writing go. 1831 193
Froggy must a warring go. 1857 193
A Premier would a-wooing go. 1887 194
Off they went to Osborne to play. 1887 194
A gray old fox sat under a vine 195
_A life on the ocean wave._
A death on the ocean wave, _Punch_ 78
A life on the ocean waive, _Man in the Moon_ 78
_And shall Trelawney die?_ 222
And shall they strike at Ritual rites? 222
_A song to the oak, the brave old oak_――H. F. CHORLEY 180
A song to the Dukes. _Punch._ 1846 180
_A tale of the Tenth Hussars_ (on Colonel Baker) 87
_When the sand of the lonely desert._ _Punch._ 1884 87
When the train, on its lonely journey 87
_Ballads_――Parodies on various 190
_Battle of Agincourt_――M. DRAYTON 191
Fair stood the wind (we thought). 1885 191
See, where the hosts advance 191
Baviad, and the Maeviad 169
_Beautiful Star._
Beautiful star, on each opera night 34
Beautiful pit, behind the stalls 35
Beautiful soup, so rich and green 35
Billiawatha (on Buffalo Bill). _Judy_ 276
_Blessed as the immortal gods is he_――A. PHILIPS 180
Drunk as a dragon sure is he. _H. Erskine_ 180
_Cease rude Boreas, blust’ring railer_――G. A. STEVENS 79
Cease to bore us, and assail us. 1836 79
Cease to lure us ’bout the ocean. 1865 80
_Champagne Charlie is my name_ 220
Gad’s hill Charlie is my name. 1867 220
CHEVY CHACE.
_God prosper long our noble King_ 184
A Parody from _The Anti-Jacobin_. 1798 185
A Parody from _The Morning Herald_. 1799 185
A parody on the O. P. riots. 1809 186
A Protectionist parody. 1850 187
A parody relating to Mr. Gladstone. 1885 187
The battle of Putney Hill 185
The Middlesex Election 210
The Litchfield defeat 211
_Come, all ye jolly sailors bold._――PRINCE HOARE 74
Come, every jolly rower bold. _G. V. Cox_ 74
Come, all ye Britons, brave and bold. _Punch_ 74
Come, all ye modern seamen bold 268
_Dance, the boatman, dance._
Sign the Bill stamp, sign 217
_Dear Betty, come give me sweet kisses._――Sir C.
H. WILLIAMS 180
Come, give us more Livings and Rectors 181
_Dear Tom, this brown jug._――F. FAWKES 172
Dear Bill, this stone jug. _Punch._ 1857 172
Dear Tom, this black pot. _Figaro._ 1832 173
Dear Jack, this white mug. _W. M. Thackeray_ 173
Della Cruscans, The 69
_Darby and Joan._
The Liberal barque is on the wave 230
The Derby’s here, and I’m getting grey 231
Derby dear, I am old and grey 231
Epitaph on George IV., with Cruikshank’s caricature 103
_Far away._
Where is our last big _coup_. _Truth_ 20
There is a fine old sow 20
Where is a bobby found? 20
Where is now the merry party? 21
_Fluttering spread thy purple pinions._ 1733 169
Slighted love the soul subduing 169
Balmy zephyrs, lightly flitting. _Horace Smith_ 170
Lovely maid with rapture swelling 170
For ever, and for ever. _L. S. May_ 273
_Gentle Zitella, whither away!_ 217
Real Havannah! precious cigar! 217
_Gently touch the warbling lyre._――A. BRADLEY 178
Gently blow and stir the fire. _Dean Swift_ 178
God rest you merry gentlemen. A carol 192
_Go from my window, love go._ 1590 270
Who is at my windo, who, who? 270
_Hang sorrow, let’s cast away care_ 214
Cast away care, he that loves sorrow 215
Drink to-day, and drown all sorrow 215
There are five reasons, as I think 215
He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober 215
_I am a friar of orders grey_――J. O’KEEFFE 177
I am the demagogue of the day 177
_I am a simple muleteer._
I am a rifle volunteer. 1860 226
I am tenant of nine feet by four. T. Hook 101
This is the house that Jack built 102
_If doughty deeds._
If dirty deeds my lady please 228
_I give thee all_――_I can no more_ 182
I give thee all (duck and peas) 182
I hear the children’s voices. _Corney Grain_ 225
_I know an eye_――JOHN OXENFORD 64
I know a “High.” _College Rhymes._ 1866 64
_I’m afloat! I’m afloat!_ 78
There’s a flat! there’s a flat! _Puppet Show_ 78
I’m a shot, I’m a shot! 78
I’m a float! I’m a float! _The Angler’s Journal_ 78
I’m a shrimp! I’m a shrimp! _R. Brough_ 274
I’m a gent! I’m a gent! 274
_I’m ninety-five._
I’m thirty-five! I’m thirty-five. _Truth_ 20
In good King William’s peaceful reign 164
_In the days when we went gipsying_ 174
Oh, the days when we went gipsying. _A. Smith_ 174
Oh, the days we read those musty books 175
I would all womankind were dead. _Aytoun_ 175
_It came with the merry May, love._ 12
It came with the joyful June, love 12
It came with the merry May, love. _F. Bowyer_ 36
_I thank the goodness and the grace_ 232
Upon my childhood’s pallid morn 232
_I cannot sing the old songs_――CLARIBEL―― 25
We met――’twas on the rink 25
I cannot eat the old horse 25
I cannot hold the old creeds. _G. Sexton_ 273
_I’ve been roaming, I’ve been roaming_ 62
I’ve been shopping, I’ve been shopping 62
I’ve been eating, I’ve been eating 62
I’ve been turning, I’ve been turning 62
_Jolly Nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip._
W. H. AINSWORTH 231
Beau nez! dont les rubis 231
_Just before the battle, mother_ 226
Just before the wedding, mother 226
Just after the wedding, mother 227
_Lilli Bulero_――LORD WHARTON 189
The new Lila Bulero. 1798 189
Bully bullero, buller a-la. 1887 190
_Long, long ago_
Twine me the curls I delighted to see 182
_Lord Bateman was a noble lord_ 188
The ballad as illustrated by George Cruikshank,
with notes by Charles Dickens 188
Lord Bateman was a noble lord 188
_Lord Lovell he stood at his castle gate_ 171
He strode and he strode (on Bradlaugh). 1881 171
Lord Lovell he stood at his own front door 171
Joe Muggins he stood 171
Lord Fitz-Faddle he lived 172
_Jack’s yarn_
The Tailor’s holiday 155
’Twas on a Monday morn 155
_My lodging is on the cold ground_ 178
My lodging is in Leather-lane. _W. B. Rhodes_ 179
_My Mother bids me bind my hair_――MRS. JOHN HUNTER 12
My mother bids me dye my hair. _Punch_ 12
The _Lancet_ bids me be a Peer. _Funny Folks_ 13
My mother bids me pinch my waist. _Truth_ 13
My mother bids me find an heir. _Punch_ 63
My mother bids me spend my smiles. _T. Hood_ 63
_My Nellie’s Blue Eyes_ 152
Two lovely black eyes. _Charles Coborn_ 152
Deux beaux yeux noirs 152
Zwei augen so schwartz 152
Down at the House, in the days that have been _Punch_ 153
_My Queen. London Society_ 15
My King. _London Society_ 15
My Scheme. _Punch_ 15
My Dude 274
Nonsense Verses, and Parodies 169
_Old Simon the cellarer_――J. L. HATTON 176
Joe Podgers, the farmer. _Fun._ 1869 176
Old Tim, the teetotaller _Punch._ 1871 176
Old Taurus our cellarer. _Judy._ 1878 176
Old Simmonds, the bellower. _J. A. Hardwick_ 177
Old William the cloturer. _Punch._ 1882 177
OLD TOWLER.
“_Bright Chanticleer proclaims the dawn_” 164
The op’ning morn dispels the night 164
Bright chandeliers the room adorn 165
Our chance at Eyre we claim this dawn 165
We’re going to have a glorious run 165
_Old King Coal was a merry old soul_――CHARLES MACKAY 165
Oh! little Queen Cole was a nice little soul 166
Old King Coal paid a very high toll 166
Old King Cole was a savage old soul (on Henry
Cole, C.B.) 1867 167
Young King Coal was a merry young soul 167
_Oh! don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?_ 79
Oh! don’t you remember Sweet William 3
Now don’t you remember old Alice? 79
Oh! don’t you remember sweet Sal? 79
Oh! don’t you remember the days when “Bolt” 79
_Oh! give me but my Arab steed_ 226
Oh! give me but my donkey, Joe 226
Farewell my ribbons, and alack! 226
_O, let me like a soldier fall_ 86
Yes, let me like a feather fall. _Whizz._ 1880 86
_On Richmond Hill there lives a lass_――UPTON 179
A parody on the above 179
Of William’s bill we’ll see the last 180
_Oh! say not woman’s heart is bought_――T. L. POCOCK 183
Oh, say not that my heart is caught 183
Oh, say not life is dearly bought 183
_Oh! the mistletoe bough_ 25
The mistletoe hung on the castle hall 25
The Michaelmas goose lay in Leadenhall 25
The cloth vos laid in the Vorkhouse hall 26
At the old Manor-house and ancestral hall 26
_Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow_ 228
_Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love!_ 63
Oh, ’tis beef, ’tis beef! _D. O’Meara_ 63
Oh, ’tis love, ’tis love! 64
Oh! this love! this love! 64
_Only a lock of her hair_
Only a lock of his hair 16
Only a common yard door 16
Only a hair on his shoulder 16
Only a cyclist gigantic. _Once a Week_ 16
_On the Prairie_, an imitation of Captain Mayne Reid 62
Our dear old Church of England. _S. Brooks_ 222
Our party’s doing very well. _Judy_, 1880 223
Jumbo and Taoung 223
_Over and over again_ 220
As parodied by Miss Seventeen 220
_Over the garden wall_ 221
Over the handles (Bicycle) 221
A parody by _F. L. Richardson_ 221
Down with the castle wall 221
_Phillis is my only joy_――C. SEDLEY 32
Fillies _is_ my only joy. 1867 32
_Please to remember the fifth of November_ 270
’Tis good to remember the fifth of November 270
Sadly Lord Salisbury. _Fun._ 1885 216
Gaily the Grand Old Man. _Truth._ 1886. 216
_Said a smile to a tear._――JAMES KENNEY 168
The loves of the plants 168
Said a steak to a chop 168
Said a fox to a goose 169
Schubert’s Songs in English translations 278
_See, the Conquering Hero comes!_
See, the conquering jingo comes. _The Echo._ 88
SHE AND I
_I in a mighty palace._――G. C. BOYLE 230
I and she
She in a gay gin palace. _J. M. Lowry_ 230
Should you ask me whence these Indians 276
_Silver threads among the gold_ 232
Don’t dye your hair when you grow old 232
Sir Percy and the fearful fogge 229
_Some Day_ 14
We know not when the day shall be. _Truth_ 14
I know not when your bill I’ll see. _Doveton_ 63
_Strangers yet._――R. MONCKTON MILNES 14
Strangers now. _Once a week_ 14
_The old and young Courtier_ 90
The fine old English gentleman 90
The fine young English gentleman 91
The fast young undergraduate. 1836 91
The raal ould Irish gintleman 91
The old and new Cantab. 1848 92
The fine rich Jewish nobleman. 1850 93
The fine old English innkeeper. 1853 93
The fine old Standard tragedy. 1855 93
The fine old English omnibus. 1856 94
The fine old British subaltern 94
The fine young English officer. 1857 95
This wondrous nineteenth century. _Frank E.
Smedley._ 1865 95
The fine old English gentleman of the present time 96
The fine young London gentleman. 1882 96
A fine old English general 96
The fine old atom-molecule 97
On Sir Stafford Northcote. 1885 97
On the Grand Old Man. 1886 97
The first rate English fox-hunter 98
The special Correspondent. 1882 99
The fine young agriculturist. 1867 99
In the Post-office Directory. 1848 100
The much mistaken demagogue. 1883 100
A good old English gentleman. 1885 100
The indefeasible title. 1881 100
The fine old English Tory times. _Charles
Dickens._ 1841 100
The fine old Standard tragedy 149
The fine young English gentleman 149
The old English publican 150
A fine old heavy villain 150
The fine old common councilman 150
A variety of Vicars. _Truth_ 151
The old English constable. _Songs by Jingo_ 274
_The Gunpowder Plot._
“_I sing a doleful tragedy_” 155
In the story of “Aladdin” 156
I sing a song of foolishness 156
I sing a comic-tragedy (on Bradlaugh) 157
I sing a doleful tragedy. _Cuthbert Bede_ 157
The question for the country now (Home Rule) 158
I sing about a grand old man 158
_The Hunt is Up_ 269
With hunts up, with hunts up. 1590 270
_The Monks of Old._
A Darwinian ballad 220
_The Pilgrim of Love._
“_Orynthia, my beloved, I call in vain_” 159
Oh, Blowsabel! my detested 159
Angelina, my chickabiddy. _G. W. Hunt_ 159
Och, Judy, my sweet darling! 159
Chamberlain, my beloved! 160
A doctor who dwells (the seedy C.C.) 159
The Queen in France. 1843 190
The “Lay” of the good Lord Roseberry. 1885 190
_The Red, White, and Blue_ 106
Oh, Britannia, the pride of the ocean 106
Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean 107
Great, great is the task set before us. 1885 107
_The Three Jovial Huntsmen._
_The three jovial statesmen_ 227
On Salisbury, Northcote, and Churchill 227
_The Two Obadiahs_ 221
The two Marias. _L. M. Thornton_ 222
The two Tory Obadiahs. _Truth._ 1886 222
The Tory Obadiah and the Union Obadiah 222
_The Vicar of Bray._
“In good King Charles’s golden days” 160
When Pitt array’d the British arms. 1814 161
In Mr. Gladstone’s powerful days 161
In good Victoria’s palmy days 161
When Bluff King Hal grew tired of Kate 162
_There’s a Land that Bears a well-known Name_ 107
There’s a paper bears a well-known name 107
The Jingo Englishman. 1878 107
The Chancery Court 108
There’s a game that bears (on cricket) 245
_The Bay of Biscay, O!_――ANDREW CHERRY 75
Loud roared the dreadful thunder
Loud roar’d the watchman’s rattle (O.P. Riots) 75
Loud roar’d the smoking funnel. _Punch_ 75
I cut the ball right under. _Tennis cuts_ 76
_The Beating of my Own Heart_――R. M. MILNES 14
The beating of my own wife. _Punch_ 14
Love and Science. _Funny Folks_ 15
_The Beautiful Maid_――LISTON 183
My fishmonger swore. _Bishop R. Heber_ 183
THE BRITISH GRENADIERS.
_Some talk of Alexander_――ANONYMOUS. 1760 81
Upon the plains of Flanders. _Thomas Campbell_ 82
Some talk of Alexander (Brook Green Volunteer).
_Punch_ 82
Most regiments have some varlet. 1849 82
The gallant specials of 1848 82
Oh! some talk about Jack Sheppard. _Diogenes_ 83
Some talk of Alexander (on the Victoria Cross) 83
Some talk of Alexander (on the London volunteers).
1860 83
Aitcheson’s carabineers 83
Some talk of Archimedes. _Fun._ 1866 84
Come all ye dilettante bold. _Funny Folks._ 1878 84
In Egypt there’s an old stream. _Punch_ 85
Some swear by Wilfred Lawson. _Morning Post_ 85
Some talk of Alexander. _England_ 85
Some praise the fair Queen Mary (song of Mrs. Jenny
Geddes). _Professor J. S. Blackie_ 85
Some talk of Bright and Cobden. _Truth_ 86
Some men go in for science. _Nicolson_ 268
Some prate of patriotism (on the volunteers) 269
The chief of the Liberal party. 1864 216
_The Chough and Crow to Roost are Gone_ 153
With cough and cold to bed I’ve gone 153
The private day and feast are gone. _S. Brooks_ 154
The _inns_ and _outs_ from rest are back 154
_The Girls they Left Behind Them._
Our gallant Guards have marched away 86
We cheer our soldiers on their way. _Funny Folks_ 86
_Ten Little Nigger Boys._
Ten joint-stock companies. _Finis_ 218
Ten little barmaids, sitting in a line. _Judy_ 218
Six royal persons in the realm alive 218
Ten high commissioners. 1877 218
Twelve Irish jurymen. 1881 218
Ten thousand soldiers. 1881 219
Ten British ironclads. 1885 219
Ten Liberal Unionists. _Sir W. Lawson_ 275
_Three Jolly Postboys._
Three Band of Hope boys 215
_To all you Ladies now on Land_――EARL OF DORSET 215
Ho! all you toilers in the land 215
_To be there_ (Salvation Army song) 154
_’Tis I am the Gipsy King._ 173
Come, my dainty doxies 173
Trip it, gipsies, trip it fine 173
Oh! ’tis I am the railway king 173
Oh! ’tis I am a frisky king 174
Oh! ’tis I am a gipsy king 174
’Twas in the grimy winter time. _A. Shirley_ 89
(The Bilious Beadle.)
_’Twas in Trafalgar’s Bay_――S. J. ARNOLD 80
’Twas in the Spithead Bay. _Diogenes_ 81
’Twas in Trafalgar Square. _Punch_ 81
’Twas at the Pig and Cat 81
The song of Billiawatha. _Judy_ 276
(A parody of _Longfellow’s_ Hiawatha.)
_Wait till the Clouds roll by_ 225
Willy, my own grand Old One. 1885 225
_We are a Merry Family_ 223
Song by Miss Mary Anderson 223
Song by a crusted old bencher 223
Song by a barrister 223
Song by a successful Q.C. 224
Song by Mr. Joseph Chamberlain 224
The political happy familee 225
We are English, you know 271
That’s English, you know. _Punch._ 1887 271
_We Don’t want to Fight_ 88
There’s Connaught does not want to fight 88
_What is the German’s Fatherland?_ 265
Where doth proud England’s boundary stand? 265
Was ist des Breitmann’s Vaterland? 265
What is the German’s Fatherland? 265
What is the Briton’s Fatherland? 266
_When the Tide Comes in_ 228
Where the wet comes in 228
_When this Old Cap was New_ 167
When this old hat was new. _E. J. Burdette_ 168
When this old joke was new. _Hal Berte_ 168
The Old Brigade――F. E. WEATHERLY.
_Where are the Boys of the Old Brigade_ 19
Sons of the old and staunch brigade 19
Rare were the joys when our hair decayed 19
_Where are you going to, my Pretty Maid?_ 60-270
Going to lecture. 1879 60
Going to be photographed. 1878 60
A new reading 61
Going a chestnutting. 1886 61
Going to publish. _Ernest Radford_ 61
Going a-swearing (C. Bradlaugh, M.P.) 61
Going to Spelling Bee 61
Going to a lecture. _Modern Society_ 61
“Shall I have any croppers?” _Whizz_ 61
“Will you come and see my Humber?” _Whizz_ 61
_Wings! to bear me over_――PERCY BOYD 11
Curls, that I might roll them. _The Cheltonian_ 12
_Woodman, Spare that Tree_――G. P. MORRIS 7
Lincoln, spare that tree. _Punch_ 7
Gasman, light that clock ” 8
Frenchman, spare that tree ” 8
Gladstone, spare that tree ” 8
Spencer, spare that tree ” 8
Childers, spare that coin. _Funny Folks_ 9
Butcher, spare that pig 273
_Won’t you tell me why, Robin?_
Oh! won’t you tell me why, doctor? _Finis_ 38
Oh, won’t you tell me why, Bobby? 39
_Write me a Letter from Home_ 219
Send a remittance from home 219
Post me a parcel from home 220
JEANNETTE AND JEANNOT.
_You are Going Far Away_ 217
The lay of the creditor. 1848 217
A Monte Christo ballad 217
The Christmas pudding 217
“_It was precisely the poets whom we most admired that we imitated
the most frequently (in the ‘Bon Gaultier Ballads’). This was
not certainly from any want of reverence, but rather out of the
fulness of our admiration, just as the excess of a lover’s fondness
often runs over into raillery of the very qualities that are dearest
to his heart. ‘Let no one,’ says Heine, ‘ridicule mankind unless
he loves them.’ With no less truth may it be said, Let no one
parody a poet unless he loves him. He must first be penetrated
by his spirit, and have steeped his ear in the music of his verse,
before he can reflect these under a humorous aspect with success._”
From Sir Theodore Martin’s
_Memoir of William Edmonstoune Aytoun._ 1867.
BROWN & DAVENPORT, Printers, 40, Sun Street, Finsbury, London, E.C.
Transcriber’s Note:
This book was written in a period when many words had not become
standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling
variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been
left unchanged except indicated below.
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
this_. Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the
end of the book. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside
down, or partially printed letters and punctuation, were corrected.
Unprinted punctuation and final stops missing at the end of sentences
and abbreviations were added. Commas were changed to stops at ends of
sentences and abbreviations. Duplicate words and letters at line
endings or page breaks were removed. Quotation marks were adjusted to
match as pairs.
In the Table of Contents, Part 24 was moved from Volume III. to Volume II.
Where there was a difference in punctuation, accents, hyphenation,
etc. between the index entry and the poem text, the index entry was
adjusted to match that of the poem.
Illustrated dropped capital letters are indicated within brackets,
thus: [Illustration: B]efore ...
There are 3 anchors to Footnote [5], two anchors to Footnote [8]</a>,
and two anchors to Footnote [49].
A TALE OF THE TENTH HUSSARS and its parody were printed on facing
pages across a page break. The end of each poem was rejoined to
its beginning.
Spelling corrections:
thers’s / there’s(no place like home!)
Thh / The Milkmaid’s Song
Bayley / Bayly
exerybody / everybody
Add / And (never once thought of poor me!)
instints / instincts (that drag downwards)
(collectors of literary) curosities / curiosities
(turn on my) bicyle / bicycle
(no heart, fearful) woer / wooer