Kitobni o'qish: «Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas»

INTRODUCTION

The day is approaching, and may even now be within measurable distance, when the Music Halls of the Metropolis will find themselves under yet more stringent supervision than is already exercised by those active and intelligent guardians of middle-class morality, the London County Council. The moral microscope which detected latent indecency in the pursuit of a butterfly by a marionette is to be provided with larger powers, and a still more extended field. In other words, our far-sighted and vigilant County Councilmen, perceiving the futility of delaying the inspection of Variety Entertainments until such improprieties as are contained therein have been suffered to contaminate the public mind for a considerable period, are determined to nip these poison-flowers in the bud for the future; and, unless Mr. Punch is misinformed, will apply to Parliament at the earliest opportunity for clauses enabling them to require each item in every forthcoming performance to be previously submitted to a special committee for sanction and approval.

The conscientious rigour with which they will discharge this new and congenial duty may perhaps be better understood after perusing the little prophetic sketch which follows; for Mr. Punch's Poet, when not employed in metrical composition, is a Seer of some pretensions in a small way, and several of his predictions have already been shamelessly plagiarised by the unscrupulous hand of Destiny. It is not improbable that this latest effort of his will receive a similar compliment, although this would be more gratifying if Destiny ever condescended to acknowledge such obligations. However, here is the forecast for what it is worth, a sum of incalculable amount: —

POETIC LICENCES

A VISION OF THE NEAR FUTURE

Scene —A Committee-room of the L. C. C.; Sub-Committee of Censors, (appointed, under new regulations, to report on all songs intended to be sung on the Music-hall Stage,) discovered in session.

Mr. Wheedler (retained for the Ballad-writers). The next licence I have to apply for is for – well, (with some hesitation) – a composition which certainly borders on the – er – amorous – but I think, Sir, you will allow that it is treated in a purely pastoral and Arcadian spirit.

The Chairman (gravely). There are arcades, Mr. Wheedler, I may remind you, which are by no means pastoral. I cannot too often repeat that we are here to fulfil the mission entrusted to us by the Democracy, which will no longer tolerate in its entertainments anything that is either vulgar, silly, or offensive in the slightest degree. [Applause.

Mr. Wheedler. Quite so. With your permission, Sir, I will read you the Ballad. [Reads.

"MOLLY AND I

"Oh! the day shall be marked in red letter – "

The Chairman. One moment, Mr. Wheedler, (conferring with his colleagues). "Marked with red letter" – isn't that a little – eh? liable to – You don't think they'll have read Hawthorne's book? Very well, then. Go on, Mr. Wheedler, please.

Mr. W."'Twas warm, with a heaven so blue."

First Censor. Can't pass those two epithets – you must tone them down, Mr. Wheedler —much too suggestive!

Mr. W. That shall be done.

The Chairman. And it ought to be "sky."

Mr. W. "When amid the lush meadows I met her,

My Molly, so modest and true!"

Second Censor. I object to the word "lush" – a direct incitement to intemperance!

Mr. W. I'll strike it out. (Reads.)

"Around us the little kids rollicked,

Lighthearted were all the young lambs – "

Second Censor. Surely "kids" is rather a vulgar expression, Mr. Wheedler? Make it "children," and I've no objection.

Mr. W. I have made it so. (Reads.)

"They kicked up their legs as they frolicked" —

Third Censor. If that is intended to be done on the stage, I protest most strongly – a highly indecorous exhibition! [Murmurs of approval.

Mr. W. But they're only lambs!

Third Censor. Lambs, indeed! We are determined to put down all kicking in Music-hall songs, no matter who does it! Strike that line out.

Mr. W. (reading). "And frisked by the side of their dams."

First Censor (severely). No profanity, Mr. Wheedler, if you please!

Mr. W. Er – I'll read you the Refrain. (Reads, limply.)

 
"Molly and I. With nobody nigh.
Hearts all a-throb with a rapturous bliss,
Molly was shy. And (at first) so was I,
Till I summoned up courage to ask for a kiss!"
 

The Chairman. "Nobody nigh," Mr. Wheedler? I don't quite like that. The Music Hall ought to set a good example to young persons. "Molly and I —with her chaperon by," is better.

Second Censor. And that last line – "asking for a kiss" – does the song state that they were formally engaged, Mr. Wheedler?

Mr. W. I – I believe it omits to mention the fact. But (ingeniously) it does not appear that the request was complied with.

Second Censor. No matter – it should never have been made. Have the goodness to alter that into – well, something of this kind. "And I always addressed her politely as "Miss." Then we may pass it.

Mr. W. (reading the next verse).

 
"She wore but a simple sun-bonnet."
 

First Censor (shocked). Now really, Mr. Wheedler, really, Sir!

Mr. W."For Molly goes plainly attired."

First Censor (indignantly). I should think so —Scandalous!

Mr. W. "Malediction I muttered upon it,

One glimpse of her face I desired."

The Chairman. I think my colleague's exception is perhaps just a leetle far-fetched. At all events, if we substitute for the last couplet,

 
"Her dress is sufficient – though on it
She only spends what is strictly required."
 

Eh, Mr. Wheedler? Then we work in a moral as well, you see, and avoid malediction, which can only mean bad language.

Mr. W. (doubtfully). With all respect, I submit that it doesn't scan quite so well —

The Chairman (sharply). I venture to think scansion may be sacrificed to propriety, occasionally, Mr. Wheedler – but pray go on.

Mr. W. (continuing).

 
"To a streamlet we rambled together.
I carried her tenderly o'er.
In my arms – she's as light as a feather —
That sweetest of burdens I bore!"
 

First Censor. I really must protest. No properly conducted young woman would ever have permitted such a thing. You must alter that, Mr. Wheedler!

Second C. And I don't know – but I rather fancy there's a "double-intender" in that word "light" – (to colleague) – it strikes me – eh? – what do you think? —

The Chairman (in a conciliatory manner). I am inclined to agree to some extent – not that I consider the words particularly objectionable in themselves, but we are men of the world, Mr. Wheedler, and as such we cannot shut our eyes to the fact that a Music-hall audience is only too apt to find significance in many apparently innocent expressions and phrases.

Mr. W. But, Sir, I understood from your remarks recently that the Democracy were strongly opposed to anything in the nature of suggestiveness!

The Ch. Exactly so; and therefore we cannot allow their susceptibilities to be shocked. (With a severe jocosity.) Molly and you, Mr. Wheedler, must either ford the stream like ordinary persons, or stay where you are.

Mr. W. (depressed). I may as well read the last verse, I suppose:

 
"Then under the flickering willow
I lay by the rivulet's brink,
With her lap for a sumptuous pillow – "
 

First Censor. We can't have that. It is really not respectable.

The Ch. (pleasantly). Can't we alter it slightly? "I'd brought a small portable pillow." No objection to that!

[The other Censors express dissent in undertones.

Mr. W. "Till I owned that I longed for a drink."

Third C. No, no! "A drink"! We all know what that means – alcoholic stimulant of some kind. At all events that's how the audience are certain to take it.

Mr. W. (feebly).

 
"So Molly her pretty hands hollowed
Into curves like an exquisite cup,
And draughts so delicious I swallowed,
That rivulet nearly dried up!"
 

Third C. Well, Mr. Wheedler, you're not going to defend that, I hope?

Mr. W. I'm not prepared to deny that it is silly —very silly – but hardly – er – vulgar, I should have thought?

Third C. That is a question of taste, which we won't dispute. I call it distinctly vulgar. Why can't he drink out of his own hands?

The Ch. (blandly). Allow me. How would this do for the second line? "She had a collapsible cup." A good many people do carry them. I have one myself. Is that all of your Ballad, Mr. Wheedler?

Mr. W. (with great relief.) That is all, Sir.

[Censors withdraw, to consider the question.

The Ch. (after consultation with colleagues). We have carefully considered this song, and we are all reluctantly of opinion that we cannot, consistently with our duty, recommend the Council to license it – even with the alterations my colleagues and myself have gone somewhat out of our way to suggest. The whole subject is too dangerous for a hall in which young persons of both sexes are likely to be found assembled; and the absence of any distinct assertion that the young couple – Molly and – ah – the gentleman who narrates the experience – are betrothed, or that their attachment is, in any way, sanctioned by their parents or guardians, is quite fatal. If we have another Ballad of a similar character from the same quarter, Mr. Wheedler, I feel bound to warn you that we may possibly consider it necessary to advise that the poet's licence should be cancelled altogether.

Mr. W. I will take care to mention it to my client, Sir. I understand it is his intention to confine himself to writing Gaiety burlesques in future.

The Ch. A very laudable resolution! I hope he will keep it. [Scene closes in.

It is hardly possible that any Music-hall Manager or vocalist, irreproachable as he may hitherto have considered himself, can have taken this glimpse into a not very remote futurity without symptoms of uneasiness, if not of positive dismay. He will reflect that the ballad of "Molly and I," however reprehensible it may appear in the fierce light of an L. C. C. Committee Room, is innocuous, and even moral, compared to the ditties in his own répertoire. How, then, can he hope, when his hour of trial strikes, to confront the ordeal with an unruffled shirt-front, or a collar that shall retain the inflexibility of conscious innocence? And he will wish then that he had confined himself to the effusions of a bard who could not be blamed by the most censorious moralist.

Here, if he will only accept the warning in time, is his best safeguard. He has only to buy this little volume, and inform his inquisitors that the songs and business with which he proposes to entertain an ingenuous public are derived from the immaculate pages of Mr. Punch. Whereupon censure will be instantly disarmed and criticism give place to congratulation. It is just possible, to be sure, that this somewhat confident prediction smacks rather of the Poet than the Seer, and that even the entertainment supplied by Mr. Punch's Music Hall may, to the Purist's eye, present features as suggestive as a horrid vulgar clown, or as shocking as a butterfly, an insect notorious for its frivolity. But then, so might the "songs and business" of the performing canary, or the innocent sprightliness of the educated flea, with its superfluity of legs, all absolutely unclad. At all events, the compiler of this collection ventures to hope that, whether it is fortunate enough to find favour or not with Music-hall "artistes," literary critics, and London County Councilmen, it contains nothing particularly objectionable to the rest of the British Public. And very likely, even in this modest aspiration, he is over-sanguine, and his little joke will be taken seriously. Earnestness is so alarmingly on the increase in these days.

MODEL MUSIC HALL
SONGS

i.– THE PATRIOTIC

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: —

ON THE CHEAP!

First Verse

 
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!
 

Chorus

 
(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!
 

Second Verse

 
(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!
 

Chorus

 
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!
 

Third Verse

 
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!
 

Chorus

 
(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!
 

Fourth Verse

 
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!
 

Chorus

 
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!"
 

Fifth Verse (this to be sung shrewdly)

 
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!
 

Chorus (with spirit and fervour)

 
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.

ii.– THE TOPICAL-POLITICAL

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: —

BETWEEN YOU AND ME – AND THE POST

(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!
 

Chorus (to which the singer should dance)

 
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.

iii.– A DEMOCRATIC DITTY

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: —

GIVEN AWAY – WITH A POUND OF TEA!

Verse I. – (Introductory.)

 
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!"
 

Chorus (in waltz time)

 
"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!"
 

Verse II. – (Containing the moral reflection.)

 
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!
 

Chorus– "Given away." So much as to say, &c

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!
 

Chorus– Give 'em away! So we all say, &c

Verse V. – (More frankly Democratic still.)

 
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!
 

Chorus– "Given away!" Some future day, &c

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!
 

Chorus– Give 'em away, &c

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.

Chorus– Give it away, &c

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.