Songs of a Savoyard

Part 1

Transcribed from the 1920 Macmillan and Co edition of “The Bab Ballads”, also from “Fifty Bab Ballads” 1884 George Routledge and Sons edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

Songs of a Savoyard

CONTENTS

PAGE THE DARNED MOUNSEER 6 THE ENGLISHMAN 13 THE DISAGREEABLE MAN 16 THE COMING BY-AND-BY 22 THE HIGHLY RESPECTABLE GONDOLIER 26 THE FAIRY QUEEN’S SONG 32 IS LIFE A BOON 38 THE MODERN MAJOR-GENERAL 42 THE HEAVY DRAGOON 49 PROPER PRIDE 56 THE POLICEMAN’S LOT 63 THE BAFFLED GRUMBLER 69 THE HOUSE OF PEERS 74 A MERRY MADRIGAL 81 THE DUKE AND THE DUCHESS 84 EHEU FUGACES—! 92 THEY’LL NONE OF ’EM BE MISSED 99 GIRL GRADUATES 106 BRAID THE RAVEN HAIR 113 THE WORKING MONARCH 119 THE APE AND THE LADY 123 ONLY ROSES 130 THE ROVER’S APOLOGY 136 AN APPEAL 143 THE REWARD OF MERIT 146 THE MAGNET AND THE CHURN 153 THE FAMILY FOOL 161 SANS SOUCI 169 A RECIPE 175 THE MERRYMAN AND HIS MAID 182 THE SUSCEPTIBLE CHANCELLOR 191 WHEN A MERRY MAIDEN MARRIES 198 THE BRITISH TAR 204 A MAN WHO WOULD WOO A FAIR MAID 209 THE SORCERER’S SONG 211 THE FICKLE BREEZE 219 THE FIRST LORD’S SONG 227 WOULD YOU KNOW? 240 SPECULATION 254 AH ME! 255 THE DUKE OF PLAZA-TORO 262 THE ÆSTHETE 271 SAID I TO MYSELF, SAID I 278 SORRY HER LOT 286 THE CONTEMPLATIVE SENTRY 292 THE PHILOSOPHIC PILL 299 BLUE BLOOD 307 THE JUDGE’S SONG 315 WHEN I FIRST PUT THIS UNIFORM ON 322 SOLATIUM 329 A NIGHTMARE 335 DON’T FORGET! 345 THE SUICIDE’S GRAVE 354 HE AND SHE 361 THE MIGHTY MUST 367 A MIRAGE 374 THE GHOSTS’ HIGH NOON 381 THE HUMANE MIKADO 388 WILLOW WALY! 397 LIFE IS LOVELY ALL THE YEAR 403 THE USHER’S CHARGE 411 THE GREAT OAK TREE 418 KING GOODHEART 424 SLEEP ON! 431 THE LOVE-SICK BOY 439 POETRY EVERYWHERE 445 HE LOVES! 453 TRUE DIFFIDENCE 458 THE TANGLED SKEIN 466 MY LADY 471 ONE AGAINST THE WORLD 473 PUT A PENNY IN THE SLOT 480 GOOD LITTLE GIRLS 482 LIFE 487 LIMITED LIABILITY 490 ANGLICISED UTOPIA 497 AN ENGLISH GIRL 499 A MANAGER’S PERPLEXITIES 504 OUT OF SORTS 506 HOW IT’S DONE 512 A CLASSICAL REVIVAL 515 THE PRACTICAL JOKER 523 THE NATIONAL ANTHEM 526 HER TERMS 534 THE INDEPENDENT BEE 536 THE DISCONCERTED TENOR 547 THE PLAYED-OUT HUMORIST 553

THE DARNED MOUNSEER

I SHIPPED, d’ye see, in a Revenue sloop, And, off Cape Finisteere, A merchantman we see, A Frenchman, going free, So we made for the bold Mounseer, D’ye see? We made for the bold Mounseer! But she proved to be a Frigate—and she up with her ports, And fires with a thirty-two! It come uncommon near, But we answered with a cheer, Which paralysed the Parley-voo, D’ye see? Which paralysed the Parley-voo! Then our Captain he up and he says, says he, “That chap we need not fear,— We can take her, if we like, She is sartin for to strike, For she’s only a darned Mounseer, D’ye see? She’s only a darned Mounseer! But to fight a French fal-lal—it’s like hittin’ of a gal— It’s a lubberly thing for to do; For we, with all our faults, Why, we’re sturdy British salts, While she’s but a Parley-voo, D’ye see? A miserable Parley-voo!”

So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze, As we gives a compassionating cheer; Froggee answers with a shout As he sees us go about, Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer, D’ye see? Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer! And I’ll wager in their joy they kissed each other’s cheek (Which is what them furriners do), And they blessed their lucky stars We were hardy British tars Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo, D’ye see? Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!

THE ENGLISHMAN

HE is an Englishman! For he himself has said it, And it’s greatly to his credit, That he is an Englishman! For he might have been a Roosian, A French, or Turk, or Proosian, Or perhaps Itali-an! But in spite of all temptations, To belong to other nations, He remains an Englishman! Hurrah! For the true-born Englishman!

THE DISAGREEABLE MAN

IF you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am: I’m a genuine philanthropist—all other kinds are sham. Each little fault of temper and each social defect In my erring fellow-creatures, I endeavour to correct. To all their little weaknesses I open people’s eyes, And little plans to snub the self-sufficient I devise; I love my fellow-creatures—I do all the good I can— Yet everybody says I’m such a disagreeable man! And I can’t think why!

To compliments inflated I’ve a withering reply, And vanity I always do my best to mortify; A charitable action I can skilfully dissect; And interested motives I’m delighted to detect. I know everybody’s income and what everybody earns, And I carefully compare it with the income-tax returns; But to benefit humanity, however much I plan, Yet everybody says I’m such a disagreeable man! And I can’t think why!

I’m sure I’m no ascetic; I’m as pleasant as can be; You’ll always find me ready with a crushing repartee; I’ve an irritating chuckle, I’ve a celebrated sneer, I’ve an entertaining snigger, I’ve a fascinating leer; To everybody’s prejudice I know a thing or two; I can tell a woman’s age in half a minute—and I do— But although I try to make myself as pleasant as I can, Yet everybody says I’m such a disagreeable man! And I can’t think why!

THE COMING BY-AND-BY

SAD is that woman’s lot who, year by year, Sees, one by one, her beauties disappear; As Time, grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs, Impatiently begins to “dim her eyes”!— Herself compelled, in life’s uncertain gloamings, To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved “combings”— Reduced, with rouge, lipsalve, and pearly grey, To “make up” for lost time, as best she may!

Silvered is the raven hair, Spreading is the parting straight, Mottled the complexion fair, Halting is the youthful gait, Hollow is the laughter free, Spectacled the limpid eye, Little will be left of me, In the coming by-and-by!

Fading is the taper waist— Shapeless grows the shapely limb, And although securely laced, Spreading is the figure trim! Stouter than I used to be, Still more corpulent grow I— There will be too much of me In the coming by-and-by!

THE HIGHLY RESPECTABLE GONDOLIER

I STOLE the Prince, and I brought him here, And left him, gaily prattling With a highly respectable Gondolier, Who promised the Royal babe to rear, And teach him the trade of a timoneer With his own beloved bratling.

Both of the babes were strong and stout, And, considering all things, clever. Of that there is no manner of doubt— No probable, possible shadow of doubt— No possible doubt whatever.

Time sped, and when at the end of a year I sought that infant cherished, That highly respectable Gondolier Was lying a corpse on his humble bier— I dropped a Grand Inquisitor’s tear— That Gondolier had perished!

A taste for drink, combined with gout, Had doubled him up for ever. Of that there is no manner of doubt— No probable, possible shadow of doubt— No possible doubt whatever.

But owing, I’m much disposed to fear, To his terrible taste for tippling, That highly respectable Gondolier Could never declare with a mind sincere Which of the two was his offspring dear, And which the Royal stripling!

Which was which he could never make out, Despite his best endeavour. Of that there is no manner of doubt— No probable, possible shadow of doubt— No possible doubt whatever.

The children followed his old career— (This statement can’t be parried) Of a highly respectable Gondolier: Well, one of the two (who will soon be here)— But which of the two is not quite clear— Is the Royal Prince you married!

Search in and out and round about And you’ll discover never A tale so free from every doubt— All probable, possible shadow of doubt— All possible doubt whatever!

THE FAIRY QUEEN’S SONG

OH, foolish fay, Think you because Man’s brave array My bosom thaws I’d disobey Our fairy laws? Because I fly In realms above, In tendency To fall in love Resemble I The amorous dove?

Part 2

Oh, amorous dove! Type of Ovidius Naso! This heart of mine Is soft as thine, Although I dare not say so!

On fire that glows With heat intense I turn the hose Of Common Sense, And out it goes At small expense! We must maintain Our fairy law; That is the main On which to draw— In that we gain A Captain Shaw.

Oh, Captain Shaw! Type of true love kept under! Could thy Brigade With cold cascade Quench my great love, I wonder!

IS LIFE A BOON

IS life a boon? If so, it must befall That Death, whene’er he call, Must call too soon. Though fourscore years he give Yet one would pray to live Another moon! What kind of plaint have I, Who perish in July? I might have had to die Perchance in June!

Continue reading Songs of a Savoyard free in the Wunder reader →