Table of Contents

• The Bab Ballads
  • CAPTAIN REECE
  • THE DARNED MOUNSEER
  • THE RIVAL CURATES
  • THE ENGLISHMAN
  • ONLY A DANCING GIRL
  • THE DISAGREEABLE MAN
  • GENERAL JOHN
  • THE COMING BY-AND-BY
  • TO A LITTLE MAID
    • BY A POLICEMAN
  • THE HIGHLY RESPECTABLE GONDOLIER
  • JOHN AND FREDDY
  • THE FAIRY QUEEN'S SONG
  • SIR GUY THE CRUSADER
  • IS LIFE A BOON
  • HAUNTED
  • THE MODERN MAJOR-GENERAL
  • THE BISHOP AND THE 'BUSMAN
  • THE HEAVY DRAGOON
  • THE TROUBADOUR
  • PROPER PRIDE
  • FERDINANDO AND ELVIRA OR, THE GENTLE PIEMAN
    • PART I
    • PART II
  • THE POLICEMAN'S LOT
  • LORENZO DE LARDY
  • THE BAFFLED GRUMBLER
  • DISILLUSIONED
    • BY AN EX-ENTHUSIAST
  • THE HOUSE OF PEERS
  • BABETTE'S LOVE
  • A MERRY MADRIGAL
  • TO MY BRIDE
    • (WHOEVER SHE MAY BE)
  • THE DUKE AND THE DUCHESS
  • THE FOLLY OF BROWN
  • EHEU FUGACES—!
  • SIR MACKLIN
  • THEY'LL NONE OF 'EM BE MISSED
  • THE YARN OF THE "NANCY BELL"
  • GIRL GRADUATES
  • THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO
  • BRAID THE RAVEN HAIR
  • THE PRECOCIOUS BABY
    • A VERY TRUE TALE
  • THE WORKING MONARCH
  • TO PHŒBE
  • THE APE AND THE LADY
  • BAINES CAREW, GENTLEMAN
  • ONLY ROSES
  • THOMAS WINTERBOTTOM HANCE
  • THE ROVER'S APOLOGY
  • A DISCONTENTED SUGAR BROKER
  • AN APPEAL
  • THE PANTOMIME "SUPER" TO HIS MASK
  • THE REWARD OF MERIT
  • THE GHOST, THE GALLANT, THE GAEL, AND THE GOBLIN
  • THE MAGNET AND THE CHURN
  • KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO
  • THE FAMILY FOOL
  • THE PERIWINKLE GIRL
  • SANS SOUCI
  • THOMSON GREEN AND HARRIET HALE
  • A RECIPE
  • BOB POLTER
  • THE MERRYMAN AND HIS MAID
  • ELLEN M'JONES ABERDEEN
  • THE SUSCEPTIBLE CHANCELLOR
  • PETER THE WAG
  • WHEN A MERRY MAIDEN MARRIES
  • THE THREE KINGS OF CHICKERABOO
  • THE BRITISH TAR
  • GENTLE ALICE BROWN
  • A MAN WHO WOULD WOO A FAIR MAID
  • THE SORCERER'S SONG
  • THE BUMBOAT WOMAN'S STORY
  • THE FICKLE BREEZE
  • THE TWO OGRES
  • THE FIRST LORD'S SONG
  • LITTLE OLIVER
  • MISTER WILLIAM
  • WOULD YOU KNOW?
  • PASHA BAILEY BEN
  • LIEUTENANT-COLONEL FLARE
  • SPECULATION
  • AH ME!
  • LOST MR. BLAKE
  • THE DUKE OF PLAZA-TORO
  • THE BABY'S VENGEANCE
  • THE ÆSTHETE
  • THE CAPTAIN AND THE MERMAIDS
  • SAID I TO MYSELF, SAID I
  • ANNIE PROTHEROE
    • A LEGEND OF STRATFORD-LE-BOW
  • SORRY HER LOT
  • AN UNFORTUNATE LIKENESS
  • THE CONTEMPLATIVE SENTRY
  • GREGORY PARABLE, LL.D.
  • THE PHILOSOPHIC PILL
  • THE KING OF CANOODLE-DUM
  • BLUE BLOOD
  • FIRST LOVE
  • THE JUDGE'S SONG
  • BRAVE ALUM BEY
  • WHEN I FIRST PUT THIS UNIFORM ON
  • SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO
  • SOLATIUM
  • THE MODEST COUPLE
  • A NIGHTMARE
  • THE MARTINET
  • DON'T FORGET!
  • THE SAILOR BOY TO HIS LASS
  • THE SUICIDE'S GRAVE
  • THE REVEREND SIMON MAGUS
  • HE AND SHE
  • DAMON v. PYTHIAS
  • THE MIGHTY MUST
  • MY DREAM
  • A MIRAGE
  • THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO AGAIN
  • THE GHOSTS' HIGH NOON
  • A WORM WILL TURN
  • THE HUMANE MIKADO
  • THE HAUGHTY ACTOR
    • THE DREAM
  • WILLOW WALY!
  • THE TWO MAJORS
  • LIFE IS LOVELY ALL THE YEAR
  • EMILY, JOHN, JAMES, AND I
    • A DERBY LEGEND
  • THE USHER'S CHARGE
  • THE PERILS OF INVISIBILITY
  • THE GREAT OAK TREE
  • OLD PAUL AND OLD TIM
  • KING GOODHEART
  • THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE
  • SLEEP ON!
  • THE CUNNING WOMAN
  • THE LOVE-SICK BOY
  • PHRENOLOGY
  • POETRY EVERYWHERE
  • THE FAIRY CURATE
  • HE LOVES!
  • THE WAY OF WOOING
  • TRUE DIFFIDENCE
  • HONGREE AND MAHRY
    • A RICHARDSONIAN MELODRAMA
  • THE TANGLED SKEIN
  • THE REVEREND MICAH SOWLS
  • MY LADY
  • ONE AGAINST THE WORLD
  • THE FORCE OF ARGUMENT
  • PUT A PENNY IN THE SLOT
  • GOOD LITTLE GIRLS
  • THE PHANTOM CURATE
    • A FABLE
  • LIFE
  • LIMITED LIABILITY
  • THE SENSATION CAPTAIN
  • ANGLICISED UTOPIA
  • AN ENGLISH GIRL
  • TEMPORA MUTANTUR
  • A MANAGER'S PERPLEXITIES
  • OUT OF SORTS
  • AT A PANTOMIME
    • BY A BILIOUS ONE
  • HOW IT'S DONE
  • A CLASSICAL REVIVAL
  • THE STORY OF PRINCE AGIB
  • THE PRACTICAL JOKER
  • THE NATIONAL ANTHEM
  • JOE GOLIGHTLY
    • OR, THE FIRST LORD'S DAUGHTER
  • HER TERMS
  • THE INDEPENDENT BEE
  • TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE
    • BY A MISERABLE WRETCH
  • THE DISCONCERTED TENOR
  • BEN ALLAH ACHMET;
    • OR, THE FATAL TUM
  • THE PLAYED-OUT HUMORIST

THE BAB BALLADS

The Bab Ballads

WITH WHICH ARE INCLUDED

SONGS OF A SAVOYARD

BY

W. S. GILBERT

WITH 350 ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR

AUTHOR'S NOTE

About thirty years since, several of "The Bab Ballads" (most of which had appeared, from time to time, in the pages of Fun) were collected by me, and published by Messrs. George Routledge and Sons. This volume passed through several editions, and, in due course, was followed by a second series under the title of "More Bab Ballads," which achieved a popularity equal to that of its predecessor. Subsequently, excerpts were made from these two volumes, and, under the title of "Fifty Bab Ballads," had a very considerable sale; but I soon discovered that in making the selection for this volume I had discarded certain Ballads that were greater favourites with my readers than with me. Nevertheless this issue was followed by many editions, English and American, of "Bab Ballads," "More Bab Ballads," and "Fifty Bab Ballads," to the no little bewilderment of such of the public as had been good enough to concern themselves with my verses. So it became desirable (for our own private ends) that this confusion should be definitely cleared up; and thus it came to pass that a reissue of the two earlier collections, in one volume, was decided upon.

Some seven years since, I collected the most popular of the songs and ballads which I had written for the series of light operas with which my name is associated, and published them under the title of "Songs of a Savoyard." It recently occurred to me that these songs had so much in common with "The Bab Ballads" that it might be advisable to weld the two books into one. This is, briefly, the history of the present volume.

I have always felt that many of the original illustrations to "The Bab Ballads" erred gravely in the direction of unnecessary extravagance. This defect I have endeavoured to correct through the medium of the two hundred new drawings which I have designed for this volume. I am afraid I cannot claim for them any other recommendation,

W. S. GILBERT.

   Grim's Dyke, Harrow Weald,      4th December 1897.

CONTENTS.

THE BAB BALLADS

CAPTAIN REECE

Of all the ships upon the blue

No ship contained a better crew

Than that of worthy Captain Reece,

Commanding of The Mantelpiece.

He was adored by all his men,

For worthy Captain Reece, R.N.,

Did all that lay within him to

Promote the comfort of his crew.

If ever they were dull or sad,

Their captain danced to them like mad,

Or told, to make the time pass by.

Droll legends of his infancy.

A feather bed had every man,

Warm slippers and hot-water can,

Brown Windsor from the captain's store,

A valet, too, to every four.

Did they with thirst in summer burn?

Lo, seltzogenes at every turn,

And on all very sultry days

Cream ices handed round on trays.

Then currant wine and ginger pops

Stood handily on all the "tops";

And, also, with amusement rife,

A "Zoetrope, or Wheel of Life."

New volumes came across the sea

From Mister Mudie's libraree;

The Times and Saturday Review

Beguiled the leisure of the crew.

Kind-hearted Captain Reece, R.N.,

Was quite devoted to his men;

In point of fact, good Captain Reece

Beatified The Mantelpiece.

One summer eve, at half-past ten,

He said (addressing all his men):

"Come, tell me, please, what I can do

To please and gratify my crew?

"By any reasonable plan

I'll make you happy, if I can;

My own convenience count as nil;

It is my duty, and I will."

Then up and answered William Lee

(The kindly captain's coxswain he,

A nervous, shy, low-spoken man),

He cleared his throat and thus began:

"You have a daughter, Captain Reece,

Ten female cousins and a niece,

A ma, if what I'm told is true,

Six sisters, and an aunt or two.

"Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me,

More friendly-like we all should be

If you united of 'em to

Unmarried members of the crew.

"If you'd ameliorate our life,

Let each select from them a wife;

And as for nervous me, old pal,

Give me your own enchanting gal!"

Good Captain Reece, that worthy man,

Debated on his coxswain's plan:

"I quite agree," he said, "O Bill;

It is my duty, and I will.

"My daughter, that enchanting gurl,

Has just been promised to an earl,

And all my other familee,

To peers of various degree.

"But what are dukes and viscounts to

The happiness of all my crew?

The word I gave you I'll fulfil;

It is my duty, and I will.

"As you desire it shall befall,

I'll settle thousands on you all,

And I shall be, despite my hoard,

The only bachelor on board."

The boatswain of The Mantelpiece,

He blushed and spoke to Captain Reece.

"I beg your honour's leave," he said,

"If you would wish to go and wed,

"I have a widowed mother who

Would be the very thing for you—

She long has loved you from afar,

She washes for you, Captain R."

The captain saw the dame that day—

Addressed her in his playful way—

"And did it want a wedding ring?

It was a tempting ickle sing!

"Well, well, the chaplain I will seek,

We'll all be married this day week—

At yonder church upon the hill;

It is my duty, and I will!"

The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece,

And widowed ma of Captain Reece,

Attended there as they were bid;

It was their duty, and they did.

THE DARNED MOUNSEER

I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,

And, off Cape Finisteere,

A merchantman we see,

A Frenchman, going free,

So we made for the bold Mounseer,

D'ye see?

We made for the bold Mounseer!

But she proved to be a Frigate—and she up with her ports,

And fires with a thirty-two!

It come uncommon near,

But we answered with a cheer,

Which paralysed the Parley-voo,

D'ye see?

Which paralysed the Parley-voo!

Then our Captain he up and he says, says he,

"That chap we need not fear,—

We can take her, if we like,

She is sartin for to strike,

For she's only a darned Mounseer,

D'ye see?

She's only a darned Mounseer!

But to fight a French fal-lal—it's like hittin' of a gal—

It's a lubberly thing for to do;

For we, with all our faults,

Why, we're sturdy British salts,

While she's but a Parley-voo,

D'ye see?

A miserable Parley-voo!"

So we up with our helm, and we scuds before the breeze,

As we gives a compassionating cheer;

Froggee answers with a shout

As he sees us go about,

Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer,

D'ye see?

Which was grateful of the poor Mounseer!

And I'll wager in their joy they kissed each other's cheek

(Which is what them furriners do),

And they blessed their lucky stars

We were hardy British tars

Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo,

D'ye see?

Who had pity on a poor Parley-voo!

THE RIVAL CURATES

List while the poet trolls

Of Mr. Clayton Hooper,

Who had a cure of souls

At Spiffton-extra-Sooper.

He lived on curds and whey,

And daily sang their praises,

And then he'd go and play

With buttercups and daisies.

Wild croquet Hooper banned,

And all the sports of Mammon,

He warred with cribbage, and

He exorcised backgammon.

His helmet was a glance

That spoke of holy gladness;

A saintly smile his lance,

His shield a tear of sadness.

His Vicar smiled to see

This armour on him buckled;

With pardonable glee

He blessed himself and chuckled:

"In mildness to abound

My curate's sole design is,

In all the country round

There's none so mild as mine is!"

And Hooper, disinclined

His trumpet to be blowing.

Yet didn't think you'd find

A milder curate going.

A friend arrived one day

At Spiffton-extra-Sooper,

And in this shameful way

He spoke to Mr. Hooper:

"You think your famous name

For mildness can't be shaken.

That none can blot your fame—

But, Hooper, you're mistaken!

"Your mind is not as blank

As that of Hopley Porter,

Who holds a curate's rank

At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

"He plays the airy flute,

And looks depressed and blighted,

Doves round about him 'toot,'

And lambkins dance delighted.

"He labours more than you

At worsted work, and frames it;

In old maids' albums, too,

Sticks seaweed—yes, and names it!"

The tempter said his say,

Which pierced him like a needle—

He summoned straight away

His sexton and his beadle.

These men were men who could

Hold liberal opinions:

On Sundays they were good—

On week-days they were minions.

"To Hopley Porter go,

Your fare I will afford you—

Deal him a deadly blow,

And blessings shall reward you.

"But stay—I do not like

Undue assassination,

And so, before you strike,

Make this communication:

"I'll give him this one chance—

If he'll more gaily bear him,

Play croquet, smoke, and dance,

I willingly will spare him."

They went, those minions true,

To Assesmilk-cum-Worter,

And told their errand to

The Reverend Hopley Porter.

"What?" said that reverend gent,

"Dance through my hours of leisure?

Smoke?—bathe myself with scent?—

Play croquet? Oh, with pleasure!

"Wear all my hair in curl?

Stand at my door, and wink—so—

At every passing girl?

My brothers, I should think so!

"For years I've longed for some

Excuse for this revulsion:

Now that excuse has come—

I do it on compulsion!!!"

He smoked and winked away—

This Reverend Hopley Porter—

The deuce there was to pay

At Assesmilk-cum-Worter.

And Hooper holds his ground,

In mildness daily growing—

They think him, all around,

The mildest curate going.

THE ENGLISHMAN

He is an Englishman!

For he himself has said it,

And it's greatly to his credit,

That he is an Englishman!

For he might have been a Roosian,

A French, or Turk, or Proosian,

Or perhaps Itali-an!

But in spite of all temptations,

To belong to other nations,

He remains an Englishman!

Hurrah!

For the true-born Englishman!

ONLY A DANCING GIRL

Only a dancing girl,

With an unromantic style,

With borrowed colour and curl,

With fixed mechanical smile,

With many a hackneyed wile,

With ungrammatical lips,

And corns that mar her trips!

Hung from the "flies" in air,

She acts a palpable lie;

She's as little a fairy there

As unpoetical I!

I hear you asking, Why—

Why in the world I sing

This tawdry, tinselled thing?

No airy fairy she,

As she hangs in arsenic green,

From a highly impossible tree,

In a highly impossible scene

(Herself not over clean).

For fays don't suffer, I'm told,

From bunions, coughs, or cold.

And stately dames that bring

Their daughters there to see,

Pronounce the "dancing thing"

No better than she should be.

With her skirt at her shameful knee,

And her painted, tainted phiz:

Ah, matron, which of us is?

(And, in sooth, it oft occurs

That while these matrons sigh,

Their dresses are lower than hers,

And sometimes half as high;

And their hair is hair they buy.

And they use their glasses, too,

In a way she'd blush to do.)

But change her gold and green

For a coarse merino gown,

And see her upon the scene

Of her home, when coaxing down

Her drunken father's frown,

In his squalid cheerless den:

She's a fairy truly, then!

THE DISAGREEABLE MAN

If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am:

I'm a genuine philanthropist—all other kinds are sham.

Each little fault of temper and each social defect

In my erring fellow-creatures, I endeavour to correct.

To all their little weaknesses I open people's eyes,

And little plans to snub the self-sufficient I devise;

I love my fellow-creatures—I do all the good I can—

Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!

And I can't think why!

To compliments inflated I've a withering reply,

And vanity I always do my best to mortify;

A charitable action I can skilfully dissect;

And interested motives I'm delighted to detect.

I know everybody's income and what everybody earns,

And I carefully compare it with the income-tax returns;

But to benefit humanity however much I plan,

Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!

And I can't think why!

I'm sure I'm no ascetic; I'm as pleasant as can be;

You'll always find me ready with a crushing repartee;

I've an irritating chuckle, I've a celebrated sneer,

I've an entertaining snigger, I've a fascinating leer;

To everybody's prejudice I know a thing or two;

I can tell a woman's age in half a minute—and I do—

But although I try to make myself as pleasant as I can.

Yet everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man!

And I can't think why!

GENERAL JOHN

The bravest names for fire and flames

And all that mortal durst,

Were General John and Private James,

Of the Sixty-seventy-first.

General John was a soldier tried,

A chief of warlike dons;

A haughty stride and a withering pride

Were Major-General John's.

A sneer would play on his martial phiz,

Superior birth to show;

"Pish!" was a favourite word of his,

And he often said "Ho! ho!"

Full-Private James described might be

As a man of a mournful mind;

No characteristic trait had he

Of any distinctive kind.

From the ranks, one day, cried Private James,

"Oh! Major-General John,

I've doubts of our respective names

My mournful mind upon.

"A glimmering thought occurs to me

(Its source I can't unearth),

But I've a kind of a notion we

Were cruelly changed at birth.

"I've a strange idea that each other's names

We've each of us here got on.

Such things have been," said Private James.

"They have!" sneered General John.

"My General John, I swear upon

My oath I think 'tis so——"

"Pish!" proudly sneered his General John

And he also said "Ho! ho!"

"My General John! my General John!

My General John!" quoth he,

"This aristocratical sneer upon

Your face I blush to see!

"No truly great or generous cove

Deserving of them names

Would sneer at a fixed idea that's drove

In the mind of a Private James!"

Said General John, "Upon your claims

No need your breath to waste;

If this is a joke, Full-Private James,

It's a joke of doubtful taste.

"But, being a man of doubtless worth,

If you feel certain quite

That we were probably changed at birth,

I'll venture to say you're right."

So General John as Private James

Fell in, parade upon;

And Private James, by change of names,

Was Major-General John.

THE COMING BY-AND-BY

Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year,

Sees, one by one, her beauties disappear;

As Time, grown weary of her heart-drawn sighs,

Impatiently begins to "dim her eyes "!—

Herself compelled, in life's uncertain gloamings,

To wreathe her wrinkled brow with well-saved "combings"—

Reduced, with rouge, lipsalve, and pearly grey,

To "make up" for lost time, as best she may!

Silvered is the raven hair,

Spreading is the parting straight,

Mottled the complexion fair,

Halting is the youthful gait,

Hollow is the laughter free,

Spectacled the limpid eye,

Little will be left of me,

In the coming by-and-by!

Fading is the taper waist—

Shapeless grows the shapely limb,

And although securely laced,

Spreading is the figure trim!

Stouter than I used to be,

Still more corpulent grow I—

There will be too much of me

In the coming by-and-by!

TO A LITTLE MAID

BY A POLICEMAN

Come with me, little maid!

Nay, shrink not, thus afraid—

I'll harm thee not!

Fly not, my love, from me—

I have a home for thee—

A fairy grot,

Where mortal eye

Can rarely pry,

There shall thy dwelling be!

List to me, while I tell

The pleasures of that cell,

Oh, little maid!

What though its couch be rude—

Homely the only food

Within its shade?

No thought of care

Can enter there,

No vulgar swain intrude!

Come with me, little maid,

Come to the rocky shade

I love to sing;

Live with us, maiden rare—

Come, for we "want" thee there,

Thou elfin thing,

To work thy spell,

In some cool cell

In stately Pentonville!

THE HIGHLY RESPECTABLE GONDOLIER

I stole the Prince, and I brought him here,

And left him, gaily prattling

With a highly respectable Gondolier,

Who promised the Royal babe to rear,

And teach him the trade of a timoneer

With his own beloved bratling.

Both of the babes were strong and stout,

And, considering all things, clever.

Of that there is no manner of doubt—

No probable, possible shadow of doubt—

No possible doubt whatever.

Time sped, and when at the end of a year

I sought that infant cherished,

That highly respectable Gondolier

Was lying a corpse on his humble bier—

I dropped a Grand Inquisitor's tear—

That Gondolier had perished!

A taste for drink, combined with gout,

Had doubled him up for ever.

Of that there is no manner of doubt—

No probable, possible shadow of doubt—

No possible doubt whatever.

But owing, I'm much disposed to fear,

To his terrible taste for tippling,