Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas Part 11

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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.]

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 t.i.tle,--"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!)

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.]

XIII.--THE MILITARY IMPERSONATOR.

To be a successful Military Impersonator, the princ.i.p.al 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 att.i.tudes, 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 ill.u.s.trates 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_.

[_p.r.o.nounce "a spreedy core."_ We look such heavy swells, you see, we're all aristo-crats, 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 pa.s.ses to_--

_Second Verse._

With d.u.c.h.esses I'm 'and in glove, with countesses I'm thick; From all the n.o.bs I get invites--they say I am "so _chic_!"

[_p.r.o.nounce "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 const.i.tuted--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!"