Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas Part 24

_Monks._ I don't know what you'd better _say_, but I can tell you what your Ladys.h.i.+p had better _do_--and that is, take your 'ook while you can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful vengeance upon your guilty 'ed!

[_Melodramatic music._

_Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear me limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that!

Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!

_Monks._ There is a secret underground pa.s.sage, known only to myself, communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and personally conduct your Ladys.h.i.+p--for a consideration--one thousand pounds down.

[_The noise increases._

_Elfie._ No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives.

When I tell them _that_----

_Monks._ Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now--they are here!

[_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE _goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.

_Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady B.

_groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. "_Thanks to the generous Donor!_" (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a speech. (_Speaking off._) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much.

Good-bye, _good_-bye!" (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!

_Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,--alive, well? This deputation of grat.i.tude? Am I mad, dreaming--or what does it all mean?

_Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this 'ere angel child recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin' myself to by carrying out your Ladys.h.i.+p's commands; and so I took the liberty of subst.i.tootin gifts more calculated to inspire grat.i.tude in their recipients--that's what it means.

_Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day month!

_Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out her hand, and here's mine; and now----

_Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us "_Woa, Lucinda!_"

[_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, "Woa, Lucinda!"

her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain falls_.

VIII.--JACK PARKER;

OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.

CHARACTERS.

_Jack Parker_ ("_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole employ._"--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.

_Miss Lydia Banks_ ("_though very young, Will never do what's rude or wrong._"--_Ditto._)

_Farmer Banks_ } By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.

_Farmer Banks's Bull_ }

_Chorus of Farm Hands._

SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with a cudgel_.

_Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull, I vent my irritation on the Bull.

[_We have_ Miss TAYLOR'S _own authority for this rhyme_.

Come hup, you beast!

[_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward with an air of deliberate defiance._

Oh, turning narsty, is he?

[_Apologetically to Bull._

Another time will do! I see you're busy!

[_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS, L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the door._

_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).

I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung; Unnaturally good for one so young-- A pattern for the people that I go among, With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.

And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long, For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!

_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).

As a general rule, one _doesn't_ live long, If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!

_Second Verse._

My words are all with wisdom fraught, To make polite replies I've sought; And learned by independent thought, That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.

So wonderfully well have I been taught, That I turn my toes as children ought!

_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).

This moral lesson she's been taught-- She turns her toes as children ought!

_Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter--Lydia Banks; No person ever caught me playing pranks!

I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,

[_Ironical applause from the Bull._

Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm, And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.

[_Business by Bull._

For me the partial peac.o.c.k saves his egg, No sheep e'er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her, Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!

Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed, While rabbits flutter twittering round my head, And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter, What milk I get I supplement with water,