What
amount you mean to pay,
Why, the lower you can put it at, the better.
They then proceed to trade with all who'll trust 'em,
Quite irrespective of their capital
(It's shady, but it's sanctified by custom);
Bank, Railway, Loan, or Panama Canal.
You can't
embark on trading too
tremendous -
It's
strictly fair, and based on common sense -
If you succeed, your profits are
stupendous -
And if you fail, pop goes your eighteenpence.
Make the money-spinner spin!
For you only stand to win,
And you'll never with dishonesty be twitted.
For nobody can know,
To a million or so,
To what
extent your capital's committed!
If you come to grief, and creditors are craving
(For nothing that is planned by
mortal head
Is certain in this Vale of Sorrow - saving
That one's Liability is Limited), -
Do you suppose that signifies perdition?
If so you're but a
monetary dunce -
You merely file a Winding-Up Petition,
And start another Company at once!
Though a Rothschild you may be
In your own capacity,
As a Company you've come to utter sorrow -
But the Liquidators say,
"Never mind - you needn't pay,"
So you start another Company to-morrow!
Ballad: Anglicised Utopia
Society has quite
forsaken all her
wicked courses,
Which empties our police courts, and
abolishes divorces.
(Divorce is nearly obsolete in England.)
No tolerance we show to undeserving rank and splendour;
For the higher his position is, the greater the offender.
(That's a maxim that is
prevalent in England.)
No Peeress at our Drawing-Room before the Presence passes
Who wouldn't be accepted by the lower-middle classes;
Each shady dame,
whatever be her rank, is bowed out neatly.
In short, this happy country has been Anglicised completely!
It really is surprising
What a
thorough Anglicising
We've brought about - Utopia's quite another land;
In her
enterprising movements,
She is England - with improvements,
Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!
Our city we have beautified - we've done it willy-nilly -
And all that isn't Belgrave Square is Strand and Piccadilly.
(They haven't any slummeries in England.)
We have solved the labour question with
discrimination polished,
So
poverty is obsolete and
hunger is
abolished -
(They are going to
abolish it in England.)
The Chamberlain our native stage has purged, beyond a question,
Of "risky" situation and indelicate suggestion;
No piece is tolerated if it's costumed indiscreetly -
In short, this happy country has been Anglicised completely!
It really is surprising
What a
thorough Anglicising
We've brought about - Utopia's quite another land;
In her
enterprising movements,
She is England - with improvements,
Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!
Our Peerage we've
remodelled on an
intellectual basis,
Which certainly is rough on our
hereditary races -
(They are going to
remodel it in England.)
The Brewers and the Cotton Lords no longer seek admission,
And Literary Merit meets with proper
recognition -
(As Literary Merit does in England!)
Who knows but we may count among our
intellectual chickens
Like them an Earl of Thackeray and p'raps a Duke of Dickens -
Lord Fildes and Viscount Millais (when they come) we'll welcome
sweetly -
And then, this happy country will be Anglicised completely!
It really is surprising
What a
thorough Anglicising
We've brought about - Utopia's quite another land;
In her
enterprising movements,
She is England - with improvements,
Which we dutifully offer to our mother-land!
Ballad: An English Girl
A wonderful joy our eyes to bless,
In her
magnificent comeliness,
Is an English girl of eleven stone two,
And five foot ten in her dancing shoe!
She follows the hounds, and on she pounds -
The "field" tails off and the muffs
diminish -
Over the hedges and brooks she bounds -
Straight as a crow, from find to finish.
At
cricket, her kin will lose or win -
She and her maids, on grass and clover,
Eleven maids out - eleven maids in -
(And perhaps an
occasional "maiden over").
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!
With a ten-mile spin she stretches her limbs,
She golfs, she punts, she rows, she swims -
She plays, she sings, she dances, too,
From ten or eleven till all is blue!
At ball or drum, till small hours come
(Chaperon's fan conceals her yawning),
She'll waltz away like a teetotum,
And never go home till daylight's dawning.
Lawn
tennis may share her favours fair -
Her eyes a-dance and her cheeks a-glowing -
Down comes her hair, but what does she care?
It's all her own and it's worth the showing!
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!
Her soul is sweet as the ocean air,
For prudery knows no haven there;
To find mock-modesty, please apply
To the
conscious blush and the
downcast eye.
Rich in the things
contentment brings,
In every pure
enjoyment wealthy,
Blithe as a beautiful bird she sings,
For body and mind are hale and healthy.
Her eyes they
thrill with right
goodwill -
Her heart is light as a floating
feather -
As pure and bright as the mountain rill
That leaps and laughs in the Highland heather!
Go search the world and search the sea,
Then come you home and sing with me
There's no such gold and no such pearl
As a bright and beautiful English girl!
Ballad: A Manager's Perplexities
Were I a king in very truth,
And had a son - a guileless youth -
In
probable succession;
To teach him
patience, teach him tact,
How
promptly in a fix to act,
He should adopt, in point of fact,
A manager's profession.
To that condition he should stoop
(Despite a too fond mother),
With eight or ten "stars" in his troupe,
All
jealous of each other!
Oh, the man who can rule a
theatrical crew,
Each member a
genius (and some of them two),
And manage to
humour them, little and great,
Can
govern a tuppenny-ha'penny State!
Both A and B
rehearsal slight -
They say they'll be "all right at night"
(They've both to go to school yet);
C in each act MUST change her dress,
D WILL attempt to "square the press";
E won't play Romeo unless
His
grandmother plays Juliet;
F claims all hoydens as her rights
(She's played them thirty seasons);
And G must show herself in tights
For two
convincing reasons -
Two very well-shaped reasons!
Oh, the man who can drive a
theatrical team,
With wheelers and leaders in order supreme,
Can
govern and rule, with a wave of his fin,
All Europe and Asia - with Ireland thrown in!
Ballad: Out Of Sorts
When you find you're a broken-down critter,
Who is all of a trimmle and twitter,
With your palate unpleasantly bitter,
As if you'd just
bitten a pill -
When your legs are as thin as dividers,
And you're plagued with
unruly insiders,
And your spine is all creepy with spiders,
And you're highly gamboge in the gill -
When you've got a beehive in your head,
And a
sewing machine in each ear,
And you feel that you've eaten your bed,
And you've got a bad
headache DOWN HERE -
When such facts are about,
And these symptoms you find
In your body or crown -
Well, it's time to look out,
You may make up your mind
You had better lie down!
When your lips are all smeary - like tallow,
And your tongue is
decidedly yallow,
With a pint of warm oil in your swAllow,
And a pound of tin-tacks in your chest -
When you're down in the mouth with the vapours,
And all over your new Morris papers
Black-beetles are cutting their capers,
And crawly things never at rest -
When you doubt if your head is your own,
And you jump when an open door slams -
Then you've got to a state which is known
To the
medical world as "jim-jams."
If such symptoms you find
In your body or head,
They're not easy to quell -
You may make up your mind
You are better in bed,
For you're not at all well!
Ballad: How It's Done
Bold-faced ranger
(Perfect stranger)