Bab Ballads and Savoy Songs. William Schwenck Gilbert
Times and Saturday Review
Beguiled the leisure of the crew.
Kind-hearted Captain Reece, R.N.,
Was quite devoted to his men;
In point of fact, good Captain Reece
Beatified The Mantelpiece.
One summer eve, at half-past ten,
He said (addressing all his men):
"Come, tell me, please, what I can do
To please and gratify my crew.
"By any reasonable plan
I'll make you happy if I can;
My own convenience count as nil;
It is my duty, and I will."
Then up and answered William Lee,
(The kindly captain's coxswain he,
A nervous, shy, low-spoken man)
He cleared his throat and thus began:
"You have a daughter, Captain Reece,
Ten female cousins and a niece,
A ma, if what I'm told is true,
Six sisters, and an aunt or two.
"Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,
More friendly-like we all should be.
If you united of 'em to
Unmarried members of the crew.
"If you'd ameliorate our life,
Let each select from them a wife;
And as for nervous me, old pal,
Give me your own enchanting gal!"
Good Captain Reece, that worthy man,
Debated on his coxswain's plan:
"I quite agree," he said. "O Bill;
It is my duty, and I will.
"My daughter, that enchanting gurl,
has just been promised to an earl,
And all my other familee
To peers of various degree.
"But what are dukes and viscounts to
The happiness of all my crew?
The word I gave you I'll fulfil;
It is my duty, and I will.
"As you desire it shall befall,
I'll settle thousands on you all,
And I shall be, despite my hoard,
The only bachelor on board."
The boatswain of The Mantelpiece,
He blushed and spoke to Captain Reece:
"I beg your honor's leave," he said,
"If you wish to go and wed,
"I have a widowed mother who
Would be the very thing for you—
She long has loved you from afar,
She washes for you, Captain R."
The captain saw the dame that day—
Addressed her in his playful way—
"And did it want a wedding ring?
It was a tempting ickle sing!
"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,
We'll all be married this day week—
At yonder church upon the hill;
It is my duty, and I will!"
The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,
And widowed ma of Captain Reece,
Attended there as they were bid;
It was their duty, and they did.
THE BISHOP AND THE BUSMAN
It was a Bishop bold,
And London was his see,
He was short and stout and round about,
And zealous as could be.
It also was a Jew,
Who drove a Putney bus—
For flesh of swine however fine
He did not care a cuss.
His name was Hash Baz Ben,
And Jedediah too,
And Solomon and Zabulon—
This bus-directing Jew.
The Bishop said, said he,
"I'll see what I can do
To Christianize and make you wise,
You poor benighted Jew."
So every blessed day
That bus he rode outside,
From Fulham town, both up and down,
And loudly thus he cried:—
"His name is Hash Baz Ben,
And Jedediah too,
And Solomon and Zabulon—
This bus-directing Jew."
At first the busman smiled,
And rather liked the fun—
He merely smiled, that Hebrew child,
And said, "Eccentric one!"
And gay young dogs would wait
To see the bus go by
(These gay young dogs in striking togs)
To hear the Bishop cry:—
"Observe his grisly beard,
His race it clearly shows,
He sticks no fork in ham or pork:—
Observe, my friends, his nose.
"His name is Hash Baz Ben,
And Jedediah too,
And Solomon and Zabulon—
This bus-directing Jew."
But though at first amused,
Yet after seven years,
This Hebrew child got awful riled,
And busted into tears.
He really almost feared
To leave his poor abode,
His nose, and name, and beard became
A byword on that road.
At length he swore an oath,
The reason he would know—
"I'll call and see why ever he
Does persecute me so."
The good old bishop sat
On his ancestral chair,
The busman came, sent up his name,
And laid his grievance bare.
"Benighted Jew," he said,
(And chuckled loud with joy)
"Be Christian you, instead of Jew—
Become a Christian boy.
"I'll ne'er annoy you more."
"Indeed?" replied the Jew.
"Shall