William Schwenck Gilbert

At the outset I may mention it's my sovereign intention To revive the classic memories of Athens at its best, For my company possesses all the necessary dresses,

A GENTLEMAN of City fame Now claims your kind attention; East India broking was his game,

A man who would woo a fair maid, Should 'prentice himself to the trade; And study all day,

Were I a king in very truth, And had a son - a guileless youth - In probable succession;

Brightly dawns our wedding day; Joyous hour, we give thee greeting! Whither, whither art thou fleeting?

Were I thy bride, Then the whole world beside Were not too wide

When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is taboo'd by anxiety, I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in without impropriety; For your brain is on fire - the bedclothes conspire of usual slumber to plunder you:

Take a pair of sparkling eyes, Hidden, ever and anon, In a merciful eclipse

I love a man who'll smile and joke When with misfortune crowned; Who'll pun beneath a pauper's yoke,

When maiden loves, she sits and sighs, She wanders to and fro; Unbidden tear-drops fill her eyes,

Oh, is there not one maiden breast Which does not feel the moral beauty Of making worldly interest

A wonderful joy our eyes to bless, In her magnificent comeliness, Is an English girl of eleven stone two,

I've painted Shakespeare all my life - "An infant" (even then at "play"!) "A boy," with stage-ambition rife,

Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses, Which empties our police courts, and abolishes divorces. (Divorce is nearly obsolete in England.)

Oh! listen to the tale of little Annie Protheroe. She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW; She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day -

An Actor sits in doubtful gloom, His stock-in-trade unfurled, In a damp funereal dressing-room

An Actor sits in doubtful gloom, His stock-in-trade unfurled, In a damp funereal dressing-room

BABETTE she was a fisher gal, With jupon striped and cap in crimps. She passed her days inside the Halle,

Of all the good attorneys who Have placed their names upon the roll, But few could equal BAINES CAREW

I once did know a Turkish man Whom I upon a two-pair-back met, His name it was Effendi Khan

Spurn not the nobly born With love affected, Nor treat with virtuous scorn

Bob Polter was a navvy, and His hands were coarse, and dirty too, His homely face was rough and tanned,

Braid the raven hair, Weave the supple tress, Deck the maiden fair

Oh, big was the bosom of brave ALUM BEY, And also the region that under it lay, In safety and peril remarkably cool,

Of all the ships upon the blue, No ship contained a better crew Than that of worthy Captain Reece.

Two better friends you wouldn't pass Throughout a summer's day, Than DAMON and his PYTHIAS,

Oh, that my soul its gods could see As years ago they seemed to me When first I painted them;

Now, Marco dear, My wishes hear: While you're away

The air is charged with amatory numbers Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays. Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers

MACPHAIRSON CLONGLOCKETTY ANGUS McCLAN Was the son of an elderly labouring man; You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight,

Emily Jane was a nursery maid, James was a bold Life Guard, John was a constable, poorly paid

The Ballyshannon foundered off the coast of Cariboo, And down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew; Down went the owners greedy men whom hope of gain allured:

PART I. At a pleasant evening party I had taken down to supper One whom I will call ELVIRA, and we talked of love and TUPPER,

A clergyman in Berkshire dwelt, The REVEREND BERNARD POWLES, And in his church there weekly knelt

The bravest names for fire and flames, And all that mortal durst, Were General John and Private James,

It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown; Her father was the terror of a small Italian town; Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing;

They intend to send a wire To the moon; And they'll set the Thames on fire

Although of native maids the cream, We're brought up on the English scheme - The best of all

A leafy cot, where no dry rot Had ever been by tenant seen, Where ivy clung and wopses stung,

Haunted? Ay, in a social way By a body of ghosts in dread array; But no conventional spectres they

Haunted? Ay, in a social way By a body of ghosts in dread array; But no conventional spectres they -

HE. I know a youth who loves a little maid (Hey, but his face is a sight for to see!)

He loves!    If in the bygone years Thine eyes have ever shed Tears - bitter, unavailing tears,

My wedded life Must every pleasure bring On scale extensive!

The sun was setting in its wonted west, When Hongree, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores, Met Mahry Daubigny, the Village Rose,

Bold-faced ranger (Perfect stranger) Meets two well-behaved young ladies

Is life a boon? If so? it must befal That Death, whene'er he call,

A tar, but poorly prized, Long, shambling, and unsightly, Thrashed, bullied, and despised,

JOHN courted lovely MARY ANN, So likewise did his brother, FREDDY. FRED was a very soft young man,

King Borria Bungalee Boo Was a man-eating African swell; His sigh was a hullaballoo,

There lived a King, as I've been told, In the wonder-working days of old, When hearts were twice as good as gold,

The earth has armies plenty, And semi-warlike bands, I dare say there are twenty

First you're born - and I'll be bound you Find a dozen strangers round you. "Hallo," cries the new-born baby,

When the buds are blossoming, Smiling welcome to the spring, Lovers choose a wedding day -

Some seven men form an Association (If possible, all Peers and Baronets), They start off with a public declaration

EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party Whom nothing ever could put out, Though eighty-two, he still was hearty,

DALILAH DE DARDY adored The very correctest of cards, LORENZO DE LARDY, a lord

Mr. Blake was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner, Who was quite out of the pale of Christianity, so to speak, He was in the habit of smoking a long pipe and drinking a glass of grog on a Sunday after dinner,

Oh, listen to the tale of Mister William, if you please, Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas. He forged a party's will, which caused anxiety and strife,

The other night, from cares exempt, I slept and what d'you think I dreamt? I dreamt that somehow I had come

Bedecked in fashion trim, With every curl a-quiver; Or leaping, light of limb,

When rival adorers come courting a maid, There's something or other may often be said, Why HE should be pitched upon rather than HIM.

It's my opinion - though I own In thinking so I'm quite alone - In some respects I'm but a fright.

Only a dancing girl, With an unromantic style, With borrowed color and curl,

To a garden full of posies Cometh one to gather flowers, And he wanders through its bowers

When you find you're a broken-down critter, Who is all of a trimmle and twitter, With your palate unpleasantly bitter,

A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN, His wives were three, his tails were ten; His form was dignified, but stout,

Policeman PETER forth I drag From his obscure retreat: He was a merry genial wag,

"Come, collar this bad man - Around the throat he knotted me Till I to choke began -

What time the poet hath hymned The writhing maid, lithe-limbed, Quivering on amaranthine asphodel,

The Sun, whose rays Are all ablaze With ever living glory,

If my action's stiff and crude, Do not laugh, because it's rude. If my gestures promise larks,

When I went to the Bar as a very young man, (Said I to myself said I), I'll work on a new and original plan

I cannot tell what this love may be That cometh to all but not to me. It cannot be kind as they'd imply,

Sing for the garish eye, When moonless brandlings cling! Let the froddering crooner cry,

This is SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO, Last of a noble race, BARNABY BAMPTON, coming to woo,

Sir Guy was a doughty crusader, A muscular knight, Ever ready to fight,

Of all the youths I ever saw None were so wicked, vain, or silly, So lost to shame and Sabbath law,

Fear no unlicensed entry, Heed no bombastic talk, While guards the British Sentry

Comes the broken flower - Comes the cheated maid - Though the tempest lower,

Sorry her lot who loves too well, Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly, Had are the sighs that own the spell

Comes a train of little ladies From scholastic trammels free, Each a little bit afraid is,

Letters, letters, letters, letters! Some that please and some that bore, Some that threaten prison fetters

If you're anxious for to shine in the high 'sthetic line, as a man of culture rare, You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and plant them everywhere. You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of your complicated state of mind,

If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line, as a man of culture rare, You must get up all the germs of the transcendental terms, and plant them everywhere. You must lie upon the daisies and discourse in novel phrases of your complicated state of mind

A lady fair, of lineage high, Was loved by an Ape, in the days gone by The Maid was radiant as the sun,

Weary at heart and extremely ill Was PALEY VOLLAIRE of Bromptonville, In a dirty lodging, with fever down,

Whene'er I poke Sarcastic joke Replete with malice spiteful,

It was a Bishop bold, And London was his see, He was short and stout and round about,

From east and south the holy clan Of bishops gathered, to a man; To synod, called Pan-Anglican;

I often wonder whether you Think sometimes of that Bishop, who From black but balmy Rum-ti-Foo

A British tar is a soaring soul, As free as a mountain bird, His energetic fist should be ready to resist

I'm old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief, My eyes are gone, and my teeth have been drawn by Time, the Thief! For terrible sights I've seen, and dangers great I've run -

I sing a legend of the sea, So hard-a-port upon your lee! A ship on starboard tack!

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,

When all night long a chap remains On sentry-go, to chase monotony He exercises of his brains,

On all Arcadia's sunny plain, On all Arcadia's hill, None were so blithe as BILL and JANE,

I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop, And, off Cape Finistere, A merchantman we see,

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

A tenor, all singers above (This doesn't admit of a question), Should keep himself quiet,

[THE DUKE.] Small titles and orders For Mayors and Recorders

In enterprise of martial kind, When there was any fighting, He led his regiment from behind,

He is an Englishman! For he himself has said it, And it's greatly to his credit,

Once a fairy Light and airy Married with a mortal;

Oh, foolish fay, Think you because Man's brave array

Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon, If you listen to popular rumor; From morning to night he's so joyous and bright,

Sighing softly to the river Comes the loving breeze, Setting nature all a-quiver,

When I was a lad I served a term As office boy to an Attorney's firm. I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,

I knew a boor a clownish card, (His only friends were pigs and cows and The poultry of a small farmyard)

Lord B. was a nobleman bold, Who came of illustrious stocks, He was thirty or forty years old,

O'er unreclaimed suburban clays Some years ago were hobblin' An elderly ghost of easy ways,

When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in the moonlight flies, And inky clouds, like funeral shrouds, sail over the midnight skies When the footpads quail at the night-bird's wail, and black dogs bay the moon,

There grew a little flower 'Neath a great oak tree: When the tempest 'gan to lower

An actor Gibbs, of Drury Lane - Of very decent station, Once happened in a part to gain

If you want a receipt for that popular mystery Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon, Take all the remarkable people in history,

I stole the Prince, and I brought him here, And left him, gaily prattling With a highly respectable Gondolier,

When Britain really ruled the waves (In good Queen Bess's time) The House of Peers made no pretence

A more humane Mikado never Did in Japan exist, To nobody second,

A hive of bees, as I've heard say, Said to their Queen one sultry day, "Please your Majesty's high position,

When I, good friends, was called to the Bar, I'd an appetite fresh and hearty, But I was, as many young barristers are,

The story of Frederick Gowler, A mariner of the sea, Who quitted his ship, the Howler,

The law is the true embodiment Of everything that's excellent. It has no kind of fault or flaw,

When first my old, old love I knew, My bosom welled with joy; My riches at her feet I threw;

A magnet hung in a hardware shop, And all around was a loving crop Of scissors and needles, nails and knives,

Some time ago, in simple verse I sang the story true Of Captain Reece, the Mantelpiece,

[HE]    I have a song to sing, O! [SHE]    Sing me your song, O! [HE]    It is sung to the moon

Come mighty Must! Inevitable Shall! In thee I trust.

I am the very pattern of a modern Major-Gineral. I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral; I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical,

When man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye, I always droop my own I am the shyest of the shy. I'm also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns,

Perhaps already you may know Sir Blennerhasset Portico? A Captain in the Navy, he -

A monarch is pestered with cares, Though, no doubt, he can often trepan them; But one comes in a shape he can never escape -

Vast empty shell! Impertinent, preposterous abortion! With vacant stare,

Old Peter led a wretched life - Old Peter had a furious wife; Old Peter too was truly stout,

I've often thought that headstrong youths, Of decent education, Determine all-important truths

A BISHOP once I will not name his see Annoyed his clergy in the mode conventional; From pulpit shackles never set them free,

I've wisdom from the East and from the West, That's subject to no academic rule: You may find it in the jeering of a jest,

Quixotic is his enterprise, and hopeless his adventure is, Who seeks for jocularities that haven't yet been said. The world has joked incessantly for over fifty centuries,

When a felon's not engaged in his employment Or maturing his felonious little plans. His capacity for innocent enjoyment,

Oh what a fund of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes! What keen enjoyment springs From cheap and simple things!

(To be sung to the Air of the "Whistling Oyster.") An elderly person a prophet by trade With his quips and tips

The REVEREND MICAH SOWLS, He shouts and yells and howls, He screams, he mouths, he bumps,

A rich advowson, highly prized, For private sale was advertised; And many a parson made a bid;

Dr. Belville was regarded as the Crichton of his age: His tragedies were reckoned much too thoughtful for the stage; His poems held a noble rank, although it's very true

List while the poet trolls Of MR. CLAYTON HOOPER, Who had a cure of souls

Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray; Though I own that my heart has been ranging, Of nature the laws I obey,

I go away this blessed day, To sail across the sea, Matilda! My vessel starts for various parts

No nobler captain ever trod Than Captain Parklebury Todd, So good so wise so brave, he!

Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells I'm a dealer in magic and spells, In blessings and curses,

Strike the concertina's melancholy string! Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything! Let the piano's martial blast

On a tree by the river a little tomtit Sang "Willow, titwillow, titwillow!" And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit

The law is the true embodiment Of everything that's excellent. It has no kind of fault or flaw,

Try we life long, we can never Straighten out life's tangled skein, Why should we, in vain endeavor,

"'Tis now some thirty-seven years ago Since first began the plot that I'm revealing, A fine young woman, whom you ought to know,

There were three niggers of Chickeraboo Pacifico, Bang-Bang, Popchop who Exclaimed, one terribly sultry day,

A troubadour he played Without a castle wall, Within, a hapless maid

An excellent soldier who's worthy the name Loves officers dashing and strict: When good, he's content with escaping all blame,

Good children, list, if you're inclined, And wicked children too This pretty ballad is designed

Now, Jurymen, hear my advice All kinds of vulgar prejudice I pray you set aside:

A maiden sat at her window wide, Pretty enough for a Prince's bride, Yet nobody came to claim her.

Rising early in the morning, We proceed to light our fire; Then our Majesty adorning

'Twas on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone, on a piece of stone,

There was an Old Man of St. Bees Who was stung in the arm by a wasp. When asked, "Does it hurt?"

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,

In all the towns and cities fair On Merry England's broad expanse, No swordsman ever could compare

(To be sung to the Air of "An 'Orrible Tale.") Oh list to this incredible tale Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE;

Come with me, little maid, Nay, shrink not, thus afraid I'll harm thee not!

Oh! little maid! (I do not know your name Or who you are, so, as a safe precaution I'll add) Oh, buxom widow! married dame!

"Gentle, modest little flower, Sweet epitome of May, Love me but for half an hour,

Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through pathless realms of Space Roll on!

My boy, you may take it from me, That of all the afflictions accurst With which a man's saddled

When a merry maiden marries, Sorrow goes and pleasure tarries; Every sound becomes a song,

When I first put this uniform on, I said as I looked in the glass. "It's one to a million

HE. Prithee, pretty maiden prithee, tell me true (Hey, but I'm doleful, willow, willow waly!)

Would you know the kind of maid Sets my heart a flame-a? Eyes must be downcast and staid,