Songs of a Savoyard. William Schwenck Gilbert

Songs of a Savoyard - William Schwenck Gilbert


Скачать книгу
vulgar boys

      To utter something spiteful,

      But, bless you, no!

      They WILL be so

      Confoundedly politeful!

      In short, these aggravating lads,

      They tickle my tastes, they feed my fads,

      They give me this and they give me that,

      And I've nothing whatever to grumble at!

      Ballad: The House Of Peers

      When Britain really ruled the waves -

      (In good Queen Bess's time)

      The House of Peers made no pretence

      To intellectual eminence,

      Or scholarship sublime;

      Yet Britain won her proudest bays

      In good Queen Bess's glorious days!

      When Wellington thrashed Bonaparte,

      As every child can tell,

      The House of Peers, throughout the war,

      Did nothing in particular,

      And did it very well;

      Yet Britain set the world ablaze

      In good King George's glorious days!

      And while the House of Peers withholds

      Its legislative hand,

      And noble statesmen do not itch

      To interfere with matters which

      They do not understand,

      As bright will shine Great Britain's rays,

      As in King George's glorious days!

      Ballad: A Merry Madrigal

      Brightly dawns our wedding day;

      Joyous hour, we give thee greeting!

      Whither, whither art thou fleeting?

      Fickle moment, prithee stay!

      What though mortal joys be hollow?

      Pleasures come, if sorrows follow.

      Though the tocsin sound, ere long,

      Ding dong! Ding dong!

      Yet until the shadows fall

      Over one and over all,

      Sing a merry madrigal -

      Fal la!

      Let us dry the ready tear;

      Though the hours are surely creeping,

      Little need for woeful weeping

      Till the sad sundown is near.

      All must sip the cup of sorrow,

      I to-day and thou to-morrow:

      This the close of every song -

      Ding dong! Ding dong!

      What though solemn shadows fall,

      Sooner, later, over all?

      Sing a merry madrigal -

      Fal la!

      Ballad: The Duke And The Duchess

      [THE DUKE.]

      Small titles and orders

      For Mayors and Recorders

      I get – and they're highly delighted.

      M.P.s baronetted,

      Sham Colonels gazetted,

      And second-rate Aldermen knighted.

      Foundation-stone laying

      I find very paying,

      It adds a large sum to my makings.

      At charity dinners

      The best of speech-spinners,

      I get ten per cent on the takings!

      [THE DUCHESS.]

      I present any lady

      Whose conduct is shady

      Or smacking of doubtful propriety;

      When Virtue would quash her

      I take and whitewash her

      And launch her in first-rate society.

      I recommend acres

      Of clumsy dressmakers -

      Their fit and their finishing touches;

      A sum in addition

      They pay for permission

      To say that they make for the Duchess!

      [THE DUKE.]

      Those pressing prevailers,

      The ready-made tailors,

      Quote me as their great double-barrel;

      I allow them to do so,

      Though ROBINSON CRUSOE

      Would jib at their wearing apparel!

      I sit, by selection,

      Upon the direction

      Of several Companies bubble;

      As soon as they're floated

      I'm freely bank-noted -

      I'm pretty well paid for my trouble!

      [THE DUCHESS.]

      At middle-class party

      I play at ECARTE -

      And I'm by no means a beginner;

      To one of my station

      The remuneration -

      Five guineas a night and my dinner.

      I write letters blatant

      On medicines patent -

      And use any other you mustn't;

      And vow my complexion

      Derives its perfection

      From somebody's soap – which it doesn't.

      [THE DUKE.]

      We're ready as witness

      To any one's fitness

      To fill any place or preferment;

      We're often in waiting

      At junket FETING,

      And sometimes attend an interment.

      In short, if you'd kindle

      The spark of a swindle,

      Lure simpletons into your clutches,

      Or hoodwink a debtor,

      You cannot do better

      Than trot out a Duke or a Duchess!

      Ballad: Eheu Fugaces -!

      The air is charged with amatory numbers -

      Soft madrigals, and dreamy lovers' lays.

      Peace, peace, old heart! Why waken from its slumbers

      The aching memory of the old, old days?

      Time was when Love and I were well acquainted;

      Time was when we walked ever hand in hand;

      A saintly youth, with worldly thought untainted,

      None better loved than I in all the land!

      Time was, when maidens of the noblest station,

      Forsaking even military men,

      Would gaze upon me, rapt in adoration -

      Ah me, I was a fair young curate then!

      Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;

      Had


Скачать книгу