This stirring ditty – so thoroughly sound and practical under all its sentiment – has been specially designed to harmonise with the recently altered tone of Music-hall audiences, in which a spirit of enlightened Radicalism is at last happily discernible. It is hoped that, both in rhyme and metre, the verses will satisfy the requirements of this most elegant form of composition. The song is intended to be shouted through music in the usual manner by a singer in evening dress, who should carry a small Union Jack carelessly thrust inside his waistcoat. The title is short but taking: —
Of a Navy insufficient cowards croak, deah boys!
If our place among the nations we're to keep.
But with British beef, and beer, and hearts of oak, deah boys! —
(With enthusiasm.) We can make a shift to do it – On the Cheap!
(With a common-sense air.) Let us keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
While Britannia is the boss upon the deep,
She can wollop an invader, when he comes in his Armada,
If she's let alone to do it – On the Cheap!
(Affectionately.) Johnny Bull is just as plucky as he was, deah boys!
(With a knowing wink.) And he's wide awake – no error! – not asleep;
But he won't stump up for ironclads – becos, deah boys!
He don't see his way to get 'em – On the Cheap!
So keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
(Gallantly.) And we'll chance what may happen on the deep!
For we can't be the losers if we save the cost o' cruisers,
And contentedly continue – On the Cheap!
The British Isles are not the Conti-nong, deah boys!
(Scornfully.) Where the Johnnies on defences spend a heap.
No! we're Britons, and we're game to jog along, deah boys!
(With pathos.) In the old time-honoured fashion – On the Cheap!
(Imploringly.) Ah! keep, deah boys! On the Cheap;
For the price we're asked to pay is pretty steep.
Let us all unite to dock it, keep the money in our pocket,
And we'll conquer or we'll perish – On the Cheap!
If the Tories have the cheek to touch our purse, deah boys!
Their reward at the elections let 'em reap!
They will find a big Conservative reverse, deah boys!
If they can't defend the country – On the Cheap!
They must keep, deah boys! On the Cheap,
Or the lot out of office we will sweep!
Bull gets rusty when you tax him, and his patriotic maxim
Is, "I'll trouble you to govern – On the Cheap!"
If the Gover'ment ain't mugs they'll take the tip, deah boys!
Just to look a bit ahead before they leap,
And instead of laying down an extry ship, deah boys!
They'll cut down the whole caboodle – On the Cheap!
And keep, deah boys! On the Cheap!
For we ain't like a bloomin' lot o' sheep.
When we want to "parry bellum,"1
[Union Jack to be waved here.
You may bet yer boots we'll tell 'em!
But we'll have the "bellum" "parried" – On the Cheap!
This song, if sung with any spirit, should, Mr. Punch thinks, cause a positive furore in any truly patriotic gathering, and possibly go some way towards influencing the decision of the country, and consequently the fate of the Empire, in the next General Elections. In the meantime it is at the service of any Champion Music Hall Comique who is capable of appreciating it.
In most respects, no doubt, the present example can boast no superiority to ditties in the same style now commanding the ear of the public. One merit, however, its author does claim for it. Though it deals with most of the burning questions of the hour, it can be sung anywhere with absolute security. This is due to a simple but ingenious method by which the political sentiment has been arranged on the reversible principle. A little alteration here and there will put the singer in close touch with an audience of almost any shade of politics. Should it happen that the title has been already anticipated, Mr. Punch begs to explain that the remainder of this sparkling composition is entirely original; any similarity with previous works must be put down entirely to "literary coincidence." Whether the title is new or not, it is a very nice one, viz: —
(To be sung in a raucous voice, and with a confidential air.)
I've dropped in to whisper some secrets I've heard.
Between you and me and the Post!
Picked up on the wing by a 'cute little bird.
We are gentlemen 'ere – so the caution's absurd,
Still, you'll please to remember that every word
Is between you and me and the Post!
Between you and me and the Post! An 'int is sufficient at most.
I'd very much rather this didn't go farther, than 'tween you and me and the Post!
At Lord Sorlsbury's table there's sech a to-do.
Between you and me and the Post!
When he first ketches sight of his dinner menoo,
And sees he's set down to good old Irish stoo —
Which he's sick of by this time – now, tell me, ain't you?
Between you and me and the Post!
(This happy and pointed allusion to the Irish Question is sure to provoke loud laughter from an audience of Radical sympathies. For Unionists, the words "Lord Sorlsbury's"can be altered by our patent reversible method into "the G. O. M.'s," without at all impairing the satire.) Chorus, as before.
The G. O. M.'s hiding a card up his sleeve.
Between you and me and the Post!
Any ground he has lost he is going to retrieve,
And what his little game is, he'll let us perceive,
And he'll pip the whole lot of 'em, so I believe,
Between you and me and the Post! (Chorus.)
(The hit will be made quite as palpably for the other side by substituting "Lord Sorlsbury's," &c., at the beginning of the first line, should the majority of the audience be found to hold Conservative views.)
Little Randolph won't long be left out in the cold.
Between you and me and the Post!
If they'll let him inside the Conservative fold,
He has promised no longer he'll swagger and scold,
But to be a good boy, and to do as he's told,
Between you and me and the Post! (Chorus.)
(The mere mention of Lord Randolph's name is sufficient to ensure the success of any song.)
Joey Chamberlain's orchid's a bit overblown,
Between you and me and the Post!
(This is rather subtle, perhaps, but an M. – H. audience will see a joke in it somewhere, and laugh.)
'Ow to square a round table I'm sure he has shown.
(Same observation applies here.)
But of late he's been leaving his old friends alone,
And I fancy he's grinding an axe of his own,
Between you and me and the Post! (Chorus.)
(We now pass on to Topics of the Day, which we treat in a light but trenchant fashion.)
On the noo County Councils they've too many nobs,
Between you and me and the Post!
For the swells stick together, and sneer at the mobs;
And it's always the rich man the poor one who robs.
We shall 'ave the old business – all jabber and jobs!
Between you and me and the Post! (Chorus.)
(N.B. —This verse should not be read to the L. C. C. who might miss the fun of it.)
There's a new rule for ladies presented at Court,
Between you and me and the Post!
High necks are allowed, so no colds will be cort,
But I went to the droring-room lately, and thort
Some old wimmen had dressed quite as low as they ort!
Between you and me and the Post! (Chorus.)
By fussy alarmists we're too much annoyed,
Between you and me and the Post!
If we don't want our neighbours to think we're afroid,
[M. – H. rhyme.
Spending dibs on defence we had better avoid.
And give 'em instead to the poor unemployed.
[M. – H. political economy.
Between you and me and the Post! (Chorus.)
This style of perlitical singing ain't hard,
Between you and me and the Post!
As a "Mammoth Comique" on the bills I am starred,
And, so long as I'm called, and angcored, and hurrar'd,
I can rattle off rubbish like this by the yard,
Between you and me and the Post!
[Chorus, and dance off to sing the same song—with or without alterations—in another place.
The following example, although it gives a not wholly inadequate expression to what are understood to be the loftier aspirations of the most advanced and earnest section of the New Democracy, should not be attempted, as yet, before a West-End audience. In South or East London, the sentiment and philosophy of the song may possibly excite rapturous enthusiasm; in the West-End, though the tone is daily improving, they are not educated quite up to so exalted a level at present. Still, as an experiment in proselytism, it might be worth risking, even there. The title it bears is: —
Some Grocers have taken to keeping a stock
Of ornaments – such as a vase, or a clock —
With a ticket on each where the words you may see:
"To be given away – with a Pound of Tea!"
"Given away!"
That's what they say.
Gratis – a present it's offered you free.
Given away.
With nothing to pay,
"Given away – [tenderly] – with a Pound of Tea!"
Now, the sight of those tickets gave me an idear.
What it set me a-thinking you're going to 'ear:
I thought there were things that would possibly be
Better given away – with a Pound of Tea!
Verse III. – (This, as being rather personal than general in its application, may need some apology. It is really put in as a graceful concession to the taste of an average Music-hall audience, who like to be assured that the Artists who amuse them are as unfortunate as they are erratic in their domestic relations.)
Now, there's my old Missus who sits up at 'ome —
And when I sneak up-stairs my 'air she will comb, —
I don't think I'd call it bad business if she
Could be given away – with a Pound of Tea!
Chorus– "Given away!" That's what they say, &c. [Mutatis mutandis.
Verse IV. – (Flying at higher game. The social satire here is perhaps almost too good-natured, seeing what intolerable pests all Peers are to the truly Democratic mind. But we must walk before we can run. Good-humoured contempt will do very well, for the present.)
Fair Americans snap up the pick of our Lords.
It's a practice a sensible Briton applords.
[This will check any groaning at the mention of Aristocrats.
Far from grudging our Dooks to the pretty Yan-kee, —
(Magnanimously) Why, we'd give 'em away – with a Pound of Tea!
To-wards a Republic we're getting on fast;
Many old Institootions are things of the past.
(Philosophically) Soon the Crown 'll go, too, as an a-noma-lee,
And be given away – with a Pound of Tea!
Verse VI. – (Which expresses the peaceful proclivities of the populace with equal eloquence and wisdom. A welcome contrast to the era when Britons had a bellicose and immoral belief in the possibility of being called upon to defend themselves at some time!)
We've made up our minds – though the Jingoes may jor —
Under no provocation to drift into war!
So the best thing to do with our costly Na-vee
Is – Give each ship away, with a Pound of Tea!
Verse VII. – (We cannot well avoid some reference to the Irish Question in a Music-hall ditty, but observe the logical and statesmanlike method of treating it here. The argument – if crudely stated – is borrowed from some advanced by our foremost politicians.)
We've also discovered at last that it's crule
To deny the poor Irish their right to 'Ome Rule!
So to give 'em a Parlyment let us agree —
(Rationally) Or they may blow us up with a Pound of their "Tea"!
[A euphemism which may possibly be remembered and understood.
Verse VIII. (culminating in a glorious prophetic burst of the Coming Dawn).
Iniquitous burdens and rates we'll relax:
For each "h" that's pronounced we will clap on a tax!
[A very popular measure.
And a house in Belgraveyer, with furniture free,
Shall each Soshalist sit in, a taking his tea!
Chorus, and dance off.– Given away! Ippipooray! Gratis we'll get it for nothing and free!
Given away! Not a penny to pay! Given away! – with a Pound of Tea!
If this Democratic Dream does not appeal favourably to the imagination of the humblest citizen, the popular tone must have been misrepresented by many who claim to act as its chosen interpreters – a supposition Mr. Punch must decline to entertain for a single moment.
The following ballad will not be found above the heads of an average audience, while it is constructed to suit the capacities of almost any lady artiste.
The singer should, if possible, be of mature age, and incline to a comfortable embonpoint. As soon as the bell has given the signal for the orchestra to attack the prelude, she will step upon the stage with that air of being hung on wires, which seems to come from a consciousness of being a favourite of the public.
I'm a dynety little dysy of the dingle,
[Self-praise is a great recommendation – in Music-hall songs.
So retiring and so timid and so coy.
If you ask me why so long I have lived single,
I will tell you – 'tis because I am so shoy.
[Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation.
Spoken– Yes, I am – really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you? But, for all that, —
Chorus– When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
Going off into a giggle,
And as red as any peony I blush;
Then turn paler than a lily,
For I'm such a little silly,
That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
[After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of shrinking maidenly modesty.
I've a cottage far away from other houses,
Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
For I cannot cure myself of being shoy.
Spoken– A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying, for —
Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.
Spoken– It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.
Then said Chorley: "My pursuit there's no evyding.
Now I've caught you, I insist on a reploy.
Do you love me? Tell me truly, little myding!"
But how is a girl to answer when she's shoy?
Spoken– For even if the conversation happens to be about nothing particular, it's just the same to me.
There we stood among the loilac and syringas,
More sweet than any Ess. Bouquet you boy;
[Arcadian for "buy."
And Chorley kept on squeezing of my fingers,
And I couldn't tell him not to, being shoy.
Spoken– For, as I told you before, —
Soon my slender wyste he ventured on embrycing,
While I only heaved a gentle little soy;
Though a scream I would have liked to rise my vice in,
It's so difficult to scream when you are shoy!
Spoken– People have such different ways of listening to proposals. As for me, —
So very soon to Church we shall be gowing,
While the bells ring out a merry peal of jy.
If obedience you do not hear me vowing,
It will only be because I am so shy.
[We have brought the rhyme off legitimately at last, it will be observed.
Spoken– Yes, and when I'm passing down the oil, on Chorley's arm, with everybody looking at me, —
Chorus– I am certain I shall wriggle,
And go off into a giggle,
And as red as any peony I'll blush.
Going through the marriage service
Will be sure to mike me nervous,
[Note the freedom of the rhyme.
And to put me in a flutter and a flush!
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