The Bab Ballads by W S Gilbert

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Title: The Bab Ballads
With Which are Included Songs of a Savoyard

Author: William Schwenck Gilbert

Release Date: March 28, 2017 [EBook #54452]

Language: English

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THE BAB BALLADS

THE BAB BALLADS

WITH WHICH ARE INCLUDED

SONGS OF A SAVOYARD

BY

W. S. GILBERT

WITH 350 ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR

LONDON

MACMILLAN & CO LTD

NEW YORK. ST MARTIN'S PRESS

This book is copyright in all countries which

are signatories to the Berne Convention

Transferred to Macmillan and Co. Ltd., 1904

Sixth Edition 1904

Reprinted 1906, 1908, 1910, 1912, 1914, 1917, 1919

1920, 1922, 1924, 1926, 1932, 1953, 1960

MACMILLAN AND COMPANY LIMITED

London Bombay Calcutta Madras Melbourne

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA LIMITED

Toronto

ST MARTIN'S PRESS INC

New York

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

AUTHOR'S NOTE

About thirty years since, several of "The Bab Ballads" (most of which had appeared, from time to time, in the
pages of Fun) were collected by me, and published by Messrs. George Routledge and Sons. This volume passed
through several editions, and, in due course, was followed by a second series under the title of "More Bab
Ballads," which achieved a popularity equal to that of its predecessor. Subsequently, excerpts were made from
these two volumes, and, under the title of "Fifty Bab Ballads," had a very considerable sale; but I soon discovered
that in making the selection for this volume I had discarded certain Ballads that were greater favourites with my
readers than with me. Nevertheless this issue was followed by many editions, English and American, of "Bab
Ballads," "More Bab Ballads," and "Fifty Bab Ballads," to the no little bewilderment of such of the public as had
been good enough to concern themselves with my verses. So it became desirable (for our own private ends) that
this confusion should be definitely cleared up; and thus it came to pass that a reissue of the two earlier
collections, in one volume, was decided upon.
Some seven years since, I collected the most popular of the songs and ballads which I had written for the series of
light operas with which my name is associated, and published them under the title of "Songs of a Savoyard." It
recently occurred to me that these songs had so much in common with "The Bab Ballads" that it might be
advisable to weld the two books into one. This is, briefly, the history of the present volume.
I have always felt that many of the original illustrations to "The Bab Ballads" erred gravely in the direction of
unnecessary extravagance. This defect I have endeavoured to correct through the medium of the two hundred
new drawings which I have designed for this volume. I am afraid I cannot claim for them any other
recommendation,

W. S. GILBERT.

Grim's Dyke, Harrow Weald,
4th December 1897.

CONTENTS.

Page

Captain Reece
1

The Darned Mounseer
6

The Rival Curates
8

The Englishman
13

Only a Dancing Girl
14

The Disagreeable Man
16

General John
18

The Coming By-and-By
22

To a Little Maid
24

The Highly Respectable Gondolier
26

John and Freddy
28

The Fairy Queen's Song
32

Sir Guy the Crusader
34

Is Life a Boon?
38

Haunted
39

The Modern Major-General
42

The Bishop and the 'Busman
44

The Heavy Dragoon
49

The Troubadour
51

Proper Pride
56

Ferdinando and Elvira; or, the Gentle Pieman
58

The Policeman's Lot
63

Lorenzo de Lardy
64

The Baffled Grumbler
69

Disillusioned
71

The House of Peers
74

Babette's Love
76

A Merry Madrigal
81

To my Bride
82

The Duke and the Duchess
84

The Folly of Brown
87

Eheu Fugaces—!
92

Sir Macklin
94

They'll None of 'em be Missed
99

The Yarn of the "Nancy Bell"
101

Girl Graduates
106

The Bishop of Rum-ti-Foo
108

Braid the Raven Hair
113

The Precocious Baby
114

The Working Monarch
119

To Phœbe
122

The Ape and the Lady
123

Baines Carew, Gentleman
125

Only Roses
130

Thomas Winterbottom Hance
131

The Rover's Apology
136

A Discontented Sugar Broker
138

An Appeal
143

The Pantomime "Super" to his Mask
144

The Reward of Merit
146

The Ghost, the Gallant, the Gael, and the Goblin 148
The Magnet and the Churn
153

King Borria Bungalee Boo
155

The Family Fool
161

The Periwinkle Girl
164

Sans Souci
169

Thomson Green and Harriet Hale
171

A Recipe
175

Bob Polter
176

The Merryman and his Maid
182

Ellen M'Jones Aberdeen
185

The Susceptible Chancellor
191

Peter the Wag
193

When a Merry Maiden Marries
198

The Three Kings of Chickeraboo
200

The British Tar
204

Gentle Alice Brown
205

A Man who would Woo a Fair Maid
209

The Sorcerer's Song
211

The Bumboat Woman's Story
214

The Fickle Breeze
219

The Two Ogres
221

The First Lord's Song
227

Little Oliver
229

Mister William
235

Would you Know?
240

Pasha Bailey Ben
242

Lieutenant-Colonel Flare
248

Speculation
254

Ah Me!
255

Lost Mr. Blake
256

The Duke of Plaza-Toro
262

The Baby's Vengeance
265

The Æsthete
271

The Captain and the Mermaids
273

Said I to Myself, Said I
278

Annie Protheroe
280

Sorry her Lot
286

An Unfortunate Likeness
287

The Contemplative Sentry
292

Gregory Parable, LL.D.
294

The Philosophic Pill
299

The King of Canoodle-dum
301

Blue Blood
307

First Love
309

The Judge's Song
315

Brave Alum Bey
317

When I First put this Uniform on
322

Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo
324

Solatium
329

The Modest Couple
330

A Nightmare
335

The Martinet
338

Don't Forget!
345

The Sailor Boy to his Lass
348

The Suicide's Grave
354

The Reverend Simon Magus
356

He and She
361

Damon V. Pythias
363

The Mighty Must
367

My Dream
368

A Mirage
374

The Bishop of Rum-ti-Foo Again
376

The Ghosts' High Noon
381

A Worm will Turn
383

The Humane Mikado
388

The Haughty Actor
391

Willow Waly!
397

The Two Majors
399

Life is Lovely all the Year
403

Emily, John, James, and I
405

The Usher's Charge
411

The Perils of Invisibility
413

The Great Oak Tree
418

Old Paul and Old Tim
420

King Goodheart
424

The Mystic Selvagee
426

Sleep on!
431

The Cunning Woman
433

The Love-sick Boy
439

Phrenology
440

Poetry Everywhere
445

The Fairy Curate
446

He Loves!
453

The Way of Wooing
454

True Diffidence
458

Hongree and Mahry
460

The Tangled Skein
466

The Reverend Micah Sowls
467

My Lady
471

One against the World
473

The Force of Argument
475

Put a Penny in the Slot
480

Good Little Girls
482

The Phantom Curate
484

Life
487

Limited Liability
490

The Sensation Captain
492

Anglicised Utopia
497

An English Girl
499

Tempora Mutantur
501

A Manager's Perplexities
504

Out of Sorts
506

At a Pantomime
508

How it's Done
512

A Classical Revival
515

The Story of Prince Agib
518

The Practical Joker
523

The National Anthem
526

Joe Golightly; or, the First Lord's Daughter
528

Her Terms
534

The Independent Bee
536

To the Terrestrial Globe
539

Etiquette
541

The Disconcerted Tenor
547

Ben Allah Achmet; or, the Fatal Tum
549

The Played-out Humorist
553

Index to First Lines
555

Alphabetical Index to Titles
561

THE BAB BALLADS

CAPTAIN REECE

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

He was adored by all his men,
For worthy Captain Reece, R.N.,
Did all that lay within him to
Promote the comfort of his crew.

If ever they were dull or sad,
Their captain danced to them like mad,
Or told, to make the time pass by.
Droll legends of his infancy.

A feather bed had every man,
Warm slippers and hot-water can,
Brown Windsor from the captain's store,
A valet, too, to every four.

Did they with thirst in summer burn?
Lo, seltzogenes at every turn,
And on all very sultry days
Cream ices handed round on trays.

Then currant wine and ginger pops
Stood handily on all the "tops";
And, also, with amusement rife,
A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."

New volumes came across the sea
From Mister Mudie's libraree;
The 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 honour's leave," he said,
"If you would 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 DARNED MOUNSEER

I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,

And, off Cape Finisteere,

A merchantman we see,
A Frenchman, going free,

So we made for the bold Mounseer,

D'ye see?

We made for the bold Mounseer!

But she proved to be a Frigate—and she up with her ports,

And fires with a thirty-two!

It come uncommon near,
But we answered with a cheer,

Which paralysed the Parley-voo,

D'ye see?

Which paralysed the Parley-voo!

Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,

"That chap we need not fear,—

We can take her, if we like,
She is sartin for to strike,

For she's only a darned Mounseer,

D'ye see?

She's only a darned Mounseer!

But to fight a French fal-lal—it's like hittin' of a gal—

It's a lubberly thing for to do;

For we, with all our faults,
Why, we're sturdy British salts,

While she's but a Parley-voo,

D'ye see?

A miserable Parley-voo!"

So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze,

As we gives a compassionating cheer;

Froggee answers with a shout
As he sees us go about,

Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,

D'ye see?

Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!

And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other's cheek

(Which is what them furriners do),

And they blessed their lucky stars
We were hardy British tars

Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,

D'ye see?

Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!

THE RIVAL CURATES

List while the poet trolls

Of Mr. Clayton Hooper,

Who had a cure of souls

At Spiffton-extra-Sooper.

He lived on curds and whey,

And daily sang their praises,

And then he'd go and play

With buttercups and daisies.

Wild croquet Hooper banned,

And all the sports of Mammon,

He warred with cribbage, and

He exorcised backgammon.

His helmet was a glance

That spoke of holy gladness;

A saintly smile his lance,

A saintly smile his lance,

His shield a tear of sadness.

His Vicar smiled to see

This armour on him buckled;

With pardonable glee

He blessed himself and chuckled:

"In mildness to abound

My curate's sole design is,

In all the country round

There's none so mild as mine is!"

And Hooper, disinclined

His trumpet to be blowing.

Yet didn't think you'd find

A milder curate going.

A friend arrived one day

At Spiffton-extra-Sooper,

And in this shameful way

He spoke to Mr. Hooper:

"You think your famous name

For mildness can't be shaken.

That none can blot your fame—

But, Hooper, you're mistaken!

"Your mind is not as blank

As that of Hopley Porter,

Who holds a curate's rank

At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

"He plays the airy flute,

And looks depressed and blighted,

Doves round about him 'toot,'

And lambkins dance delighted.

"He labours more than you

At worsted work, and frames it;

In old maids' albums, too,

Sticks seaweed—yes, and names it!"

The tempter said his say,

Which pierced him like a needle—

He summoned straight away

His sexton and his beadle.

These men were men who could

Hold liberal opinions:

On Sundays they were good—

On week-days they were minions.

"To Hopley Porter go,

Your fare I will afford you—

Deal him a deadly blow,

And blessings shall reward you.

"But stay—I do not like

Undue assassination,

And so, before you strike,

Make this communication:

"I'll give him this one chance—

If he'll more gaily bear him,

Play croquet, smoke, and dance,

Play croquet, smoke, and dance,

I willingly will spare him."

They went, those minions true,

To Assesmilk-cum-Worter,

And told their errand to

The Reverend Hopley Porter.

"What?" said that reverend gent,

"Dance through my hours of leisure?

Smoke?—bathe myself with scent?—

Play croquet? Oh, with pleasure!

"Wear all my hair in curl?

Stand at my door, and wink—so—

At every passing girl?

My brothers, I should think so!

"For years I've longed for some

Excuse for this revulsion:

Now that excuse has come—

I do it on compulsion!!!"

He smoked and winked away—

This Reverend Hopley Porter—

The deuce there was to pay

At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

And Hooper holds his ground,

In mildness daily growing—

They think him, all around,

The mildest curate going.

THE ENGLISHMAN

He is an Englishman!

For he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit,

That he is an Englishman!

For he might have been a Roosian,
A French, or Turk, or Proosian,

Or perhaps Itali-an!

But in spite of all temptations,
To belong to other nations,

He remains an Englishman!

Hurrah!

For the true-born Englishman!

ONLY A DANCING GIRL

Only a dancing girl,

Only a dancing girl,

With an unromantic style,

With borrowed colour and curl,

With fixed mechanical smile,
With many a hackneyed wile,

With ungrammatical lips,
And corns that mar her trips!

Hung from the "flies" in air,

She acts a palpable lie;

She's as little a fairy there

As unpoetical I!
I hear you asking, Why—

Why in the world I sing
This tawdry, tinselled thing?

No airy fairy she,

As she hangs in arsenic green,

From a highly impossible tree,

In a highly impossible scene
(Herself not over clean).

For fays don't suffer, I'm told,
From bunions, coughs, or cold.

And stately dames that bring

Their daughters there to see,

Pronounce the "dancing thing"

No better than she should be.
With her skirt at her shameful knee,

And her painted, tainted phiz:
Ah, matron, which of us is?

(And, in sooth, it oft occurs

That while these matrons sigh,

Their dresses are lower than hers,
And sometimes half as high;

And their hair is hair they buy.
And they use their glasses, too,

In a way she'd blush to do.)

But change her gold and green

For a coarse merino gown,

And see her upon the scene

Of her home, when coaxing down
Her drunken father's frown,

In his squalid cheerless den:
She's a fairy truly, then!

THE DISAGREEABLE MAN

If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am:

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
In my erring fellow-creatures, I endeavour to correct.
To all their little weaknesses I open people's eyes,
And little plans to snub the self-sufficient I devise;
I love my fellow-creatures—I do all the good I can—
Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!

And I can't think why!

To compliments inflated I've a withering reply,
And vanity I always do my best to mortify;
A charitable action I can skilfully dissect;
And interested motives I'm delighted to detect.
I know everybody's income and what everybody earns,
And I carefully compare it with the income-tax returns;
But to benefit humanity however much I plan,
Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!

And I can't think why!

I'm sure I'm no ascetic; I'm as pleasant as can be;
You'll always find me ready with a crushing repartee;
I've an irritating chuckle, I've a celebrated sneer,
I've an entertaining snigger, I've a fascinating leer;
To everybody's prejudice I know a thing or two;
I can tell a woman's age in half a minute—and I do—
But although I try to make myself as pleasant as I can.
Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!

And I can't think why!

GENERAL JOHN

The bravest names for fire and flames

And all that mortal durst,

Were General John and Private James,

Of the Sixty-seventy-first.

General John was a soldier tried,

A chief of warlike dons;

A haughty stride and a withering pride

Were Major-General John's.

A sneer would play on his martial phiz,

Superior birth to show;

"Pish!" was a favourite word of his,

And he often said "Ho! ho!"

Full-Private James described might be

As a man of a mournful mind;

No characteristic trait had he

Of any distinctive kind.

From the ranks, one day, cried Private James,

"Oh! Major-General John,

I've doubts of our respective names

My mournful mind upon.

"A glimmering thought occurs to me

(Its source I can't unearth),

But I've a kind of a notion we

Were cruelly changed at birth.

"I've a strange idea that each other's names

"I've a strange idea that each other's names

We've each of us here got on.

Such things have been," said Private James.

"They have!" sneered General John.

"My General John, I swear upon

My oath I think 'tis so——"

"Pish!" proudly sneered his General John

And he also said "Ho! ho!"

"My General John! my General John!

My General John!" quoth he,

"This aristocratical sneer upon

Your face I blush to see!

"No truly great or generous cove

Deserving of them names

Would sneer at a fixed idea that's drove

In the mind of a Private James!"

Said General John, "Upon your claims

No need your breath to waste;

If this is a joke, Full-Private James,

It's a joke of doubtful taste.

"But, being a man of doubtless worth,

If you feel certain quite

That we were probably changed at birth,

I'll venture to say you're right."

So General John as Private James

Fell in, parade upon;

And Private James, by change of names,

Was Major-General John.

THE COMING BY-AND-BY

Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year,

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,
Impatiently begins to "dim her eyes "!—
Herself compelled, in life's uncertain gloamings,
To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved "combings"—
Reduced, with rouge, lipsalve, and pearly grey,
To "make up" for lost time, as best she may!

Silvered is the raven hair,

Spreading is the parting straight,

Mottled the complexion fair,

Halting is the youthful gait,

Hollow is the laughter free,

Spectacled the limpid eye,

Little will be left of me,

In the coming by-and-by!

Fading is the taper waist—

Shapeless grows the shapely limb,

And although securely laced,

Spreading is the figure trim!

Stouter than I used to be,

Still more corpulent grow I—

There will be too much of me

In the coming by-and-by!

TO A LITTLE MAID

BY A POLICEMAN

Come with me, little maid!
Nay, shrink not, thus afraid—

I'll harm thee not!

Fly not, my love, from me—
I have a home for thee—

A fairy grot,

Where mortal eye
Can rarely pry,

There shall thy dwelling be!

List to me, while I tell
The pleasures of that cell,

Oh, little maid!

What though its couch be rude—
Homely the only food

Within its shade?

No thought of care
Can enter there,

No vulgar swain intrude!

Come with me, little maid,
Come to the rocky shade

I love to sing;

Live with us, maiden rare—
Come, for we "want" thee there,

Thou elfin thing,

To work thy spell,
In some cool cell

In stately Pentonville!

THE HIGHLY RESPECTABLE GONDOLIER

I stole the Prince, and I brought him here,

And left him, gaily prattling

With a highly respectable Gondolier,
Who promised the Royal babe to rear,
And teach him the trade of a timoneer

With his own beloved bratling.

Both of the babes were strong and stout,

And, considering all things, clever.

Of that there is no manner of doubt—
No probable, possible shadow of doubt—

No possible doubt whatever.

Time sped, and when at the end of a year

I sought that infant cherished,

That highly respectable Gondolier

Was lying a corpse on his humble bier—
I dropped a Grand Inquisitor's tear—

That Gondolier had perished!

A taste for drink, combined with gout,

Had doubled him up for ever.

Of that there is no manner of doubt—
No probable, possible shadow of doubt—

No possible doubt whatever.

But owing, I'm much disposed to fear,

To his terrible taste for tippling,

That highly respectable Gondolier
Could never declare with a mind sincere
Which of the two was his offspring dear,

And which the Royal stripling!

Which was which he could never make out,

Despite his best endeavour.

Of that there is no manner of doubt—
No probable, possible shadow of doubt—

No possible doubt whatever.

The children followed his old career—

(This statement can't be parried)

Of a highly respectable Gondolier:
Well, one of the two (who will soon be here)—
But which of the two is not quite clear—

Is the Royal Prince you married!

Search in and out and round about

And you'll discover never

A tale so free from every doubt—
All probable, possible shadow of doubt—

All possible doubt whatever!

JOHN AND FREDDY

John courted lovely Mary Ann,

So likewise did his brother, Freddy.

Fred was a very soft young man,

While John, though quick, was most unsteady

Fred was a graceful kind of youth,

But John was very much the strongest.

"Oh, dance away," said she, "in truth,