Songs of a Savoyard Part 14

(At this juncture I may mention That this erudition sham Is but cla.s.sical pretension, The result of steady "cram.": Periphrastic methods spurning, To my readers all discerning I admit this show of learning Is the fruit of steady cram."!)

In the period Socratic every dining-room was Attic (Which suggests an architecture of a topsy-turvy kind), There they'd satisfy their twist on a RECHERCHE cold [Greek text which cannot be reproduced], Which is what they called their lunch - and so may you, if you're inclined.

As they gradually got on, they'd [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

(Which is Attic for a steady and a conscientious drink).

But they mixed their wine with water - which I'm sure they didn't oughter - And we Anglo-Saxons know a trick worth two of that, I think!

Then came rather risky dances (under certain circ.u.mstances) Which would shock that worthy gentleman, the Licenser of Plays, Corybantian maniAC kick - Dionysiac or Bacchic - And the Dithyrambic revels of those indecorous days.

(And perhaps I'd better mention Lest alarming you I am, That it isn't our intention To perform a Dithyramb - It displays a lot of stocking, Which is always very shocking, And of course I'm only mocking At the prevalence of "cram.")

Yes, on reconsideration, there are customs of that nation Which are not in strict accordance with the habits of our day, And when I come to codify, their rules I mean to modify, Or Mrs. Grundy, p'r'aps, may have a word or two to say: For they hadn't macintoshes or umbrellas or goloshes - And a shower with their dresses must have played the very deuce, And it must have been unpleasing when they caught a fit of sneezing, For, it seems, of pocket-handkerchiefs they didn't know the use.

They wore little underclothing - scarcely anything - or no-thing - And their dress of Coan silk was quite transparent in design - Well, in fact, in summer weather, something like the "altogether."

And it's THERE, I rather fancy, I shall have to draw the line!

(And again I wish to mention That this erudition sham Is but cla.s.sical pretension, The result of steady "cram."

Yet my cla.s.sic love aggressive, If you'll pardon the possessive, Is exceedingly impressive When you're pa.s.sing an exam.)

Ballad: The Practical Joker

Oh what a fund of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes!

What keen enjoyment springs From cheap and simple things!

What deep delight from sources trite inventive humour coaxes, That pain and trouble brew For every one but you!

Gunpowder placed inside its waist improves a mild Havanah, Its unexpected flash Burns eyebrows and moustache; When people dine no kind of wine beats ipecacuanha, But common sense suggests You keep it for your guests - Then naught annoys the organ boys like throwing red-hot coppers, And much amus.e.m.e.nt bides In common b.u.t.ter-slides.

And stringy snares across the stairs cause unexpected croppers.

Coal scuttles, recollect, Produce the same effect.

A man possessed Of common sense Need not invest At great expense - It does not call For pocket deep, These jokes are all Extremely cheap.

If you commence with eighteenpence (it's all you'll have to pay), You may command a pleasant and a most instructive day.

A good spring gun breeds endless fun, and makes men jump like rockets, And turnip-heads on posts Make very decent ghosts: Then hornets sting like anything, when placed in waist-coat pockets - Burnt cork and walnut juice Are not without their use.

No fun compares with easy chairs whose seats are stuffed with needles - Live shrimps their patience tax When put down people's backs - Surprising, too, what one can do with fifty fat black beedles - And treacle on a chair Will make a Quaker swear!

Then sharp tin tacks And pocket squirts - And cobblers' wax For ladies' skirts - And slimy slugs On bedroom floors - And water jugs On open doors - Prepared with these cheap properties, amusing tricks to play, Upon a friend a man may spend a most delightful day!

Ballad: The National Anthem

A monarch is pestered with cares, Though, no doubt, he can often trepan them; But one comes in a shape he can never escape - The implacable National Anthem!

Though for quiet and rest he may yearn, It pursues him at every turn - No chance of forsaking Its ROCOCO numbers; They haunt him when waking - They poison his slumbers - Like the Banbury Lady, whom every one knows, He's cursed with its music wherever he goes!

Though its words but imperfectly rhyme, And the devil himself couldn't scan them; With composure polite he endures day and night That illiterate National Anthem!

It serves a good purpose, I own: Its strains are devout and impressive - Its heart-stirring notes raise a lump in our throats As we burn with devotion excessive: But the King, who's been bored by that song From his cradle - each day - all day long - Who's heard it loud-shouted By throats operatic, And loyally spouted By courtiers emphatic - By soldier - by sailor - by drum and by fife - Small blame if he thinks it the plague of his life!

While his subjects sing loudly and long, Their King - who would willingly ban them - Sits, worry disguising, anathematising That Bogie, the National Anthem!

Ballad: Her Terms

My wedded life Must every pleasure bring On scale extensive!

If I'm your wife I must have everything That's most expensive - A lady's-maid - (My hair alone to do I am not able) - And I'm afraid I've been accustomed to A first-rate table.

These things one must consider when one marries - And everything I wear must come from Paris!

Oh, think of that!

Oh, think of that!

I can't wear anything that's not from Paris!

From top to toes Quite Frenchified I am, If you examine.

And then - who knows? - Perhaps some day a fam - Perhaps a famine!

My argument's correct, if you examine, What should we do, if there should come a f-famine!

Though in green pea Yourself you needn't stint In July sunny, In Januaree It really costs a mint - A mint of money!

No lamb for us - House lamb at Christmas sells At prices handsome: Asparagus, In winter, parallels A Monarch's ransom: When purse to bread and b.u.t.ter barely reaches, What is your wife to do for hot-house peaches?

Ah! tell me that!

Ah! tell me that!

What IS your wife to do for hot-house peaches?

Your heart and hand Though at my feet you lay, All others scorning!

As matters stand, There's nothing now to say Except - good morning!

Though virtue be a husband's best adorning, That won't pay rates and taxes - so, good morning!

Ballad: The Independent Bee

A hive of bees, as I've heard say, Said to their Queen one sultry day, "Please your Majesty's high position, The hive is full and the weather is warm, We rather think, with a due submission, The time has come when we ought to swarm."

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Up spake their Queen and thus spake she - "This is a matter that rests with me, Who dares opinions thus to form?

I'LL tell you when it is time to swarm!"

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Her Majesty wore an angry frown, In fact, her Majesty's foot was down - Her Majesty sulked - declined to sup - In short, her Majesty's back was up.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Her foot was down and her back was up!

That hive contained one obstinate bee (His name was Peter), and thus spake he - "Though every bee has shown white feather, To bow to tyranny I'm not p.r.o.ne - Why should a hive swarm all together?

Surely a bee can swarm alone?"

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Upside down and inside out, Backwards, forwards, round about, Twirling here and twisting there, Topsy turvily everywhere - Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Pitiful sight it was to see Respectable elderly high-cla.s.s bee, Who kicked the beam at sixteen stone, Trying his best to swarm alone!

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Trying his best to swarm alone!

The hive were shocked to see their chum (A strict teetotaller) teetotum - The Queen exclaimed, "How terrible, very!

It's perfectly clear to all the throng Peter's been at the old brown sherry.