Songs of a Savoyard. William Schwenck Gilbert. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William Schwenck Gilbert
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I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;

      Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;

      And when I coughed all thought the end was near!

      I had no care – no jealous doubts hung o'er me -

      For I was loved beyond all other men.

      Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me -

      Ah me, I was a pale young curate then!

      Ballad: They'll None Of 'Em Be Missed

      As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,

      I've got a little list – I've got a little list

      Of social offenders who might well be underground,

      And who never would be missed – who never would be missed!

      There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs -

      All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs -

      All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat -

      All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like THAT -

      And all third persons who on spoiling TETE-E-TETES insist -

      They'd none of 'em be missed – they'd none of 'em be missed!

      There's the nigger serenader, and the others of his race,

      And the piano organist – I've got him on the list!

      And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,

      They never would be missed – they never would be missed!

      Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,

      All centuries but this, and every country but his own;

      And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,

      And who "doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try";

      And that FIN-DE-SIECLE anomaly, the scorching motorist -

      I don't think he'd be missed – I'm SURE he'd not be missed!

      And that NISI PRIUS nuisance, who just now is rather rife,

      The Judicial humorist – I've got HIM on the list!

      All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life -

      They'd none of 'em be missed – they'd none of 'em be missed!

      And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind,

      Such as – What-d'ye-call-him – Thing'em-Bob, and likewise – Never-

      mind,

      And 'St – 'st – 'st – and What's-his-name, and also – You-know-who

      -

      (The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to YOU!)

      But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,

      For they'd none of 'em be missed – they'd none of 'em be missed!

      Ballad: Girl Graduates

      They intend to send a wire

      To the moon;

      And they'll set the Thames on fire

      Very soon;

      Then they learn to make silk purses

      With their rigs

      From the ears of LADY CIRCE'S

      Piggy-wigs.

      And weasels at their slumbers

      They'll trepan;

      To get sunbeams from cuCUMbers

      They've a plan.

      They've a firmly rooted notion

      They can cross the Polar Ocean,

      And they'll find Perpetual Motion

      If they can!

      These are the phenomena

      That every pretty domina

      Hopes that we shall see

      At this Universitee!

      As for fashion, they forswear it,

      So they say,

      And the circle – they will square it

      Some fine day;

      Then the little pigs they're teaching

      For to fly;

      And the niggers they'll be bleaching

      By-and-by!

      Each newly joined aspirant

      To the clan

      Must repudiate the tyrant

      Known as Man;

      They mock at him and flout him,

      For they do not care about him,

      And they're "going to do without him"

      If they can!

      These are the phenomena

      That every pretty domina

      Hopes that we shall see

      At this Universitee!

      Ballad: Braid The Raven Hair

      Braid the raven hair,

      Weave the supple tress,

      Deck the maiden fair

      In her loveliness;

      Paint the pretty face,

      Dye the coral lip,

      Emphasise the grace

      Of her ladyship!

      Art and nature, thus allied,

      Go to make a pretty bride!

      Sit with downcast eye,

      Let it brim with dew;

      Try if you can cry,

      We will do so, too.

      When you're summoned, start

      Like a frightened roe;

      Flutter, little heart,

      Colour, come and go!

      Modesty at marriage tide

      Well becomes a pretty bride!

      Ballad: The Working Monarch

      Rising early in the morning,

      We proceed to light the fire,

      Then our Majesty adorning

      In its work-a-day attire,

      We embark without delay

      On the duties of the day.

      First, we polish off some batches

      Of political despatches,

      And foreign politicians circumvent;

      Then, if business isn't heavy,

      We may hold a Royal LEVEE,

      Or ratify some Acts of Parliament:

      Then we probably review the household troops -

      With the usual "Shalloo humps" and "Shalloo hoops!"

      Or receive with ceremonial and state

      An interesting Eastern Potentate.

      After that we generally

      Go and dress our private VALET -

      (It's a rather nervous duty – he a touchy little man) -

      Write some letters literary

      For our private secretary -

      (He is shaky in his spelling, so we help him if we can.)

      Then,