Read the book: «Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas», page 3

ix.– THE DUETTISTS

The "Duet and Dance" form so important a feature in Music-hall entertainments, that they could hardly, with any propriety, be neglected in a model compilation such as Mr. Punch's, and it is possible that he may offer more than one example of this blameless diversion. For some reason or other, the habit of singing in pairs would seem to induce a pessimistic tone of mind in most Music-hall artistes, and – why, Mr. Punch does not pretend to say – this cynicism is always more marked when the performers are of the softer sex. Our present study is intended to fulfil the requirements of the most confirmed female sceptic, and, though the Message of the Music Halls may have been given worthier and fuller expression by pens more practised in such compositions, Mr. Punch is still modestly confident that this ditty, with all its shortcomings, can be sung in any Music Hall in the Metropolis without exciting any sentiment other than entire approval of the teaching it conveys. One drawback, indeed, it has, but that concerns the performers alone. For the sake of affording contrast and relief, it was thought expedient that one of the fair duettists should profess an optimism which may – perhaps must – tend to impair her popularity. A conscientious artiste may legitimately object, for the sake of her professional reputation, to present herself in so humiliating a character as that of an ingénue, and a female "Juggins"; and it does seem as if the Cynical Sister must inevitably monopolise the sympathies of an enlightened audience. However, this difficulty is less formidable than it appears; it should be easy for the Unsophisticated Sister to convey a subtle suggestion here and there, possibly in the incidental dance between the verses, that she is not really inferior to her partner in smartness and knowledge of the world. But perhaps it would be the fairest arrangement if the Sisters could agree to alternate so ungrateful a rôle.

RHINO!

First Verse

First Sister (placing three of the fingers of her left hand on her heart, and extending her right arm in timid appeal).

 
Dear sister, of late I'm beginning to doubt
If the world is as black as they paint it.
It mayn't be as bad as some try to make out —
Second Sister (with an elaborate mock curtsy.) That is a discovery! Mayn't it?
 

 
First S. (abashed). I'm sure there are sev'ral who aren't a bad lot,
And some sort of principle seem to have got,
For they act on the square —
Second S. Don't you talk tommy-rot!
It's done for advertisement, ain't it?
 

Refrain

 
Second S. Why, there's nobody at bottom any better than the rest!
First S. Are you sure of it?
Second S. I'm telling you, and I know,
The principle they act upon's whatever pays 'em best.
And the only real religion now is – Rhino!
 

[The last word must be rendered with full metallic effect. A step-dance, expressive of conviction on one part and incipient wavering on the other, should be performed between the verses.

Second Verse

 
First S. (returning, shaken, to the charge). Some unmarried men lead respectable lives.
Second S. (decisively). Well, I've never happened to meet them!
First S. There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.
Second S. Of course – if their better halves beat them!
First S. Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;
Their provisions are never adulteratèd,
But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
Second S.'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!
 

Refrain

 
  They're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest.
Second S. I'm speaking from experience, and I know.
If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast
You'd see on all the hearts was written – "Rhino!"
 

Third Verse

 
First S. There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.
Second S. There may be – but I've never seen one.
First S. Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.
Second S. (putting her arms a-kimbo). If you swallow that, you're a green one!
They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,
When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash —
When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!
 

Refrain

 
First S. Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
Second S. (cheerfully). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and I know.
First S. You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
Second S. Why rather– if he's rolling in the Rhino!
 

Fourth Verse

 
First S. Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
Second S. It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
First S. Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
Second S. It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
First S. But don't they go into those horrible slums?
Second S. Sometimes – with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
First S. I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
Second S. And nobody knows how they've spent them!
 

Refrain

 
Second S. Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
They are only bigger hypocrites, as I know;
They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!
 

Fifth Verse

 
First S. Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
Second S. (compassionately). Whoever's been gammoning you so?
First S. They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
Second S. What else would induce 'em to do so?
First S. But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
Second S. I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,
For they're able to put on the screw so!
 

Refrain (together)

 
No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
They may kid to their constituents – but I know;
Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
They regulate their actions by the Rhino!
 

[Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause.

x.– DISINTERESTED PASSION

When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a tendency deserves encouragement, and Mr. Punch has much pleasure in offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by a scion of the nobility, and the artiste will accordingly present himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey frock-coat, fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green, gloves – the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A powerful, – though not necessarily tuneful, – voice is desirable for the adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing, can always be spoken.

ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!

First Verse

 
When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow —
A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,
For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.
 

Refrain (throaty, but tender)

 
She's only a little Plebeian!
And I'm a Patrician swell!
But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
No eloquence ever can tell!
Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
Selling her saucers of whilks,
 

[Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."

 
But, for me, she's as slend-ar – far more true and tend-ar,
Than if she wore satins and silks!
 

[The grammar of the last two lines is shaky, but the Lion-Comique must try to put up with that, and, after all, does sincere emotion ever stop to think about grammar? If it does, Music-hall audiences don't – which is the main point.

Second Verse

 
I longed before her little feet to grovel in the gutter:
I vowed, unless I won her as a wife, 'twould drive me mad!
Until at last a shy consent I coaxed her lips to utter,
For she dallied with her Anglo-Dutch, and whispered, "Speak to Dad!"
 

Refrain– For she's only a little Plebeian, &c.

Third Verse

 
I called upon her sire, and found him lowly born, but brawny,
A noble type, when sober, of the British artisan;
I grasped his honest hand, and didn't mind its being horny:
"Behold!" I cried, "a suitor for your daughter, Mary Ann!"
 

Refrain– Though she's only a little Plebeian, &c.

Fourth Verse

 
"You ask me, gov'nor, to resign," said he, "my only treasure,
And so a toff her fickle heart away from me has won!"
He turned to mask his manly woe behind a pewter measure —
Then, breathing blessings through the beer, he said; "All right, my son!
 

Refrain– If she's only a little Plebeian,

And you're a Patrician swell," – &c.

Fifth Verse

(The author flatters himself that, in quiet sentiment and homely pathos he has seldom done anything finer than the two succeeding stanzas.)

 
Next I sought my noble father in his old ancestral castle,
And at his gouty foot my love's fond offering I laid —
A simple gift of shellfish, in a neat brown-paper parcel!
"Ah, Sir!" I cried, "if you could know, you'd love my little maid!"
 

Refrain– True, she's only a little Plebeian, &c.

Sixth Verse

 
Beneath his shaggy eyebrows soon I saw a tear-drop twinkle;
That artless present overcame his stubborn Norman pride!
And when I made him taste a whilk, and try a periwinkle,
His last objections vanished – so she's soon to be my bride!
 

Refrain– Ah! she's only a little Plebeian, &c.

Seventh Verse

 
Now heraldry's a science that I haven't studied much in,
But I mean to ask the College – if it's not against their rules —
That three periwinkles proper may be quartered on our 'scutcheon,
With a whilk regardant, rampant, on an oyster-knife, all gules!
 

Refrain– As she's only a little Plebeian, &c.

This little ditty, which has the true, unmistakable ring about it, and will, Mr. Punch believes, touch the hearts of any Music-hall audience, is entirely at the service of any talented artiste who will undertake to fit it with an appropriate melody, and sing it in a spirit of becoming seriousness.

xi.– THE PANEGYRIC PATTER

This ditty is designed to give some expression to the passionate enthusiasm for nature which is occasionally observable in the Music-hall songstress. The young lady who sings these verses will of course appear in appropriate costume; viz., a large white hat and feathers, a crimson sunshade, a pink frock, high-heeled sand-shoes, and a liberal extent of black silk stockings. A phonetic spelling has been adopted where necessary to bring out the rhyme, for the convenience of the reader only, as the singer will instinctively give the vowel-sounds the pronunciation intended by the author.

THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE

First Verse

 
Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!
And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
 

Chorus (to which the singer should sway in waltz-time)

 
For I'm offully fond of the Sea! – side!
If I'd only my w'y I would de-cide
To dwell evermore,
By the murmuring shore,
With the billows a-blustering be-side!
 

Second Verse

 
Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
And to sally forth a-prorning – e'en if nothing back you bring!
Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?
 

Chorus– For it's one of the sports of the Sea-side! &c

Third Verse

 
Then what j'y to go a bything – though you'll swim, if you're a sly thing,
Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,
Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
 

Chorus– For there's always a band at the Sea-side! &c

Fourth Verse

 
And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!
Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
To the sound of concertiner, – till they're gradually greener,
And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.
 

Chorus– And they cry, "Put us back on the Sea-side!" &c

Fifth Verse

 
There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
(If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."
 

Chorus– "Penny Nap" is the gyme for the Sea-side! &c

Sixth Verse

 
Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,
And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"
 

Chorus– Then you answer "I've been by the Sea-side!" &c

Seventh Verse

 
Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,
With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;
And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will not ventcher,
But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
 

Chorus– For there's sure to be one at the Sea-side! &c

Eighth Verse

 
If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease to dror!
 

Chorus– And they're part of the joys of the Sea-side! &c

Encore Verse (to be used only in case of emergency)

 
Well, I reelly must be gowing – I've just time to make my bow in —
But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,
Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
 

Chorus (all together) – Oh, we're offully fond of the Sea-side! &c

xii.– THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC

A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to pathos – so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they would term the vulgarity of the title, – "The Night-light Ever Burning by the Bed" – but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more generally called a "Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand any more. It should be explained that the "tum-tum" at the end of certain lines is not intended to be sung – it is merely an indication to the orchestra to pinch their violins in a pizzicato manner. The singer should either come on as a serious black man – for burnt cork is a marvellous provocative of pathos – or as his ordinary self. In either case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.

THE NIGHT-LIGHT EVER BURNING BY THE BED

First Verse

 
I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent,
'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt, (Tum-tum-tum!)
And to go there once again has been often my intent,
But the railway fare's expensive, so I can't! (Tum-tum!)
Still I never can forget that night when last we met:
"Oh, promise me – whate'er you do!" she said, (Tum-tum-tum!)
"Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest,
Keep a night-light always burning by your bed!" (Tum-tum!)
 

Refrain (pianissimo.)

 
And my eyes are dim and wet;
For I seem to hear them yet —
Those solemn words at parting that she said: (Tum-tum-tum!)
"Now, mind you burn a night-light,
– 'Twill last until it's quite light —
In a saucerful of water by your bed!" (Tum-tum!)
 

Second Verse

 
I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried,
As she gave me all the halfpence that she had: (Tum-tum-tum!)
And through the world e'er since I have wandered far and wide,
And been gradually going to the bad! (Tum-tum!)
Many a folly, many a crime I've committed in my time,
For a lawless and a chequered life I've led! (Tum-tum-tum.)
Still I've kept the promise sworn – flannel next my skin I've worn,
And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed! (Tum-tum!)
 

Refrain

 
All unhallowed my pursuits,
(Oft to bed I've been in boots!)
Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed (Tum-tum-tum!)
The moderately bright light
Afforded by a night-light,
In a saucerful of water by my bed! (Tum-tum!)
 

Third Verse. (To be sung with increasing solemnity.)

 
A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw;
In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood! (Tum-tum-tum!)
And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,
And I trembled – for my conscience isn't good! (Tum-tum!)
But her countenance was mild – so indulgently she smiled
That I knew there was no further need for dread! (Tum-tum-tum!)
She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest,
And the night-light in its saucer by my bed! (Tum-tum!)
 

Refrain (more pianissimo still.)

 
But ere a word she spoke,
I unhappily awoke!
And away, alas! the beauteous vision fled! (Tum-tum-tum!)
(In mournful recitation) – There was nothing but the slight light
Of the melancholy night-light
That was burning in a saucer by my bed! (Tum-tum!)
 

xiii.– THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR

To be a successful Military Impersonator, the principal requisite is a uniform, which may be purchased for a moderate sum, second-hand, in the neighbourhood of almost any barracks. Some slight acquaintance with the sword exercise and elementary drill is useful, though not absolutely essential. Furnished with these, together with a few commanding attitudes, and a song possessing a spirited, martial refrain, the Military Impersonator may be certain of an instant and striking success upon the Music-hall stage, – especially if he will condescend to avail himself of the ballad provided by Mr. Punch, as a vehicle for his peculiar talent. And – though we say it ourselves – it is a very nice ballad, to which Mr. McDougall himself would find it difficult to take exception. It is in three verses, too – the limit understood to be formally approved by the London County Council for such productions. It may be, indeed, that (save so far as the last verse illustrates the heroism of our troops in action – a heroism too real and too splendid to be rendered ridiculous, even by Military Impersonators), the song does not convey a particularly accurate notion of the manner and pursuits of an officer in the Guards. But then no Music-hall ditty can ever be accepted as a quite infallible authority upon any social type it may undertake to depict – with the single exception, perhaps, of the Common (or Howling) Cad. So that any lack of actuality here will be rather a merit than a blemish in the eyes of an indulgent audience. Having said so much, we will proceed to our ballad, which is called, —

IN THE GUARDS!

First Verse

 
I'm a Guardsman, and my manner is perhaps a bit "haw-haw;"
But when you're in the Guards you've got to show esprit de corps.
 

[Pronounce "a spreedy core."

 
We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-cràts,
When on parade we stand arrayed in our 'eavy bearskin 'ats.
 

Chorus (during which the Martial Star will march round the stage in military order.)

 
We're all "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
In the Guards! Doncher know?
Twisting silky long moustarches,
 

[Suit the action to the word here.

 
Bein' Guards! Doncher know?
While our band is playing Marches,
For the Guards! Doncher know?
And the ladies stop to gaze upon the Guards,
Bing-Bang!
 

[Here a member of the orchestra will oblige with the cymbals, while the Vocalist performs a military salute, as he passes to—

Second Verse

 
With duchesses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick;
From all the nobs I get invites – they say I am "so chic!"
 

[Pronounce "chick."

 
It often makes me laugh to read, whene'er I go off guard,
"Dear Bertie, come to my At Home!" on a coronetted card!
 

Chorus

 
For we're "Berties," "'Ughies," "Archies,"
In the Guards! Doncher know?
With our silky long moustarches,
In the Guards! Doncher know?
Where's a regiment that marches
Like the Guards? Doncher know?
All the darlings – bless 'em! – dote upon the Guards,
Bing-Bang!
 

Third Verse

[Here comes the Singer's great chance, and by merely taking a little pains, he may make a tremendously effective thing out of it. If he can manage to slip away between the verses, and change his bearskin and scarlet coat for a solar topee and kharkee tunic at the wings, it will produce an enormous amount of enthusiasm, only he must not take more than five minutes over this alteration, or the audience – so curiously are British audiences constituted – may grow impatient for his return.

 
But hark! the trumpet sounds!.. (Here a member of the orchestra will oblige upon the trumpet.) What's this? … (The Singer will take a folded paper from his breast and peruse it with attention.) We're ordered to the front! [This should be shouted.
We'll show the foe how "Carpet-Knights" can face the battle's brunt!
They laugh at us as "Brummels" – but we'll prove ourselves "Bay-yards!"
 

[Now the Martial Star will draw his sword and unfasten his revolver-case, taking up the exact pose in which he is represented upon the posters outside.

 
As you were!.. Form Square!.. Mark Time!.. Slope Arms!.. now – 'Tention!.. (These military evolutions should all be gone through by the Artist.) Forward, Guards! [To be yelled through music.
 

Chorus

 
Onward every 'ero marches,
In the Guards! Doncher know?
All the "'Ughies," "Berties," "Archies,"
Of the Guards! Doncher know?
They may twist their long moustarches,
For they're Guards! Doncher know?
Dandies? yes, – but dandy lions are the Guards!
Bing-Bang!
 

[Red fire and smoke at wings, as curtain falls upon the Military Impersonator in the act of changing to a new attitude.