Mr Punch's Model Music Hall Songs and Dramas

Second Verse

First S. (returning, shaken, to the charge). Some unmarried men lead respectable lives.
Second S. (decisively). Well, I've never happened to meet them!
First S. There are husbands who're always polite to their wives.
Second S. Of course – if their better halves beat them!
First S. Some tradesmen have consciences, so I've heard said;
Their provisions are never adulteratèd,
But they treat all their customers fairly instead.
Second S.'Cause they don't find it answer to cheat them!

Refrain



They're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest.
Second S. I'm speaking from experience, and I know.
If you could put a window-pane in everybody's breast
You'd see on all the hearts was written – "Rhino!"

Third Verse

First S. There are girls you can't tempt with a title or gold.
Second S. There may be – but I've never seen one.
First S. Some much prefer love in a cottage, I'm told.
Second S. (putting her arms a-kimbo). If you swallow that, you're a green one!
They'll stick to their lover so long as he's cash,
When it's gone, they look out for a wealthier mash.
A girl on the gush talks unpractical trash —
When it comes to the point, she's a keen one!

Refrain

First S. Then, are none of us at bottom any better than the rest!
Second S. (cheerfully). Not a bit; I am a girl myself and I know.
First S. You'd surely never give your hand to someone you detest?
Second S. Why rather– if he's rolling in the Rhino!

Fourth Verse

First S. Philanthropists give up their lives to the poor.
Second S. It's chiefly with tracts they present them.
First S. Still, some self-denial I'm sure they endure?
Second S. It's their hobby, and seems to content them.
First S. But don't they go into those horrible slums?
Second S. Sometimes – with a flourish of trumpets and drums.
First S. I've heard they've collected magnificent sums.
Second S. And nobody knows how they've spent them!

Refrain

Second S. Oh, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
They are only bigger hypocrites, as I know;
They've famous opportunities for feathering their nest,
When so many fools are ready with the Rhino!

Fifth Verse

First S. Our Statesmen are prompted by duty alone.
Second S. (compassionately). Whoever's been gammoning you so?
First S. They wouldn't seek office for ends of their own?
Second S. What else would induce 'em to do so?
First S. But Time, Health, and Money they all sacrifice.
Second S. I'd do it myself at a quarter the price.
There's pickings for all, and they needn't ask twice,
For they're able to put on the screw so!

Refrain (together)

No, they're none of 'em at bottom any better than the rest!
They may kid to their constituents – but I know;
Whatever lofty sentiments their speeches may suggest,
They regulate their actions by the Rhino!

[Here the pair will perform a final step-dance, indicative of enlightened scepticism, and skip off in an effusion of sisterly sympathy, amidst enthusiastic applause.

x.– DISINTERESTED PASSION

When a Music-hall singer does not treat of the tender passion in a rakish and knowing spirit, he is apt to exhibit an unworldliness truly ideal in its noble indifference to all social distinctions. So amiable a tendency deserves encouragement, and Mr. Punch has much pleasure in offering the following little idyl to the notice of any Mammoth Comique who may happen to be in a sentimental mood. It is supposed to be sung by a scion of the nobility, and the artiste will accordingly present himself in a brown "billy-cock" hat, a long grey frock-coat, fawn-coloured trousers, white "spats," and primrose, or green, gloves – the recognised attire of a Music-hall aristocrat. A powerful, – though not necessarily tuneful, – voice is desirable for the adequate rendering of this ditty; any words it is inconvenient to sing, can always be spoken.

ONLY A LITTLE PLEBEIAN!

First Verse

When first I met my Mary Ann, she stood behind a barrow —
A bower of enchantment spread with many a dainty snack!
And, as I gazed, I felt my heart transfixed with Cupid's arrow,
For she opened all her oysters with so fairylike a knack.

Refrain (throaty, but tender)

She's only a little Plebeian!
And I'm a Patrician swell!
But she's as sweet as Aurora, and how I adore her,
No eloquence ever can tell!
Only a fried-fish vend-ar!
Selling her saucers of whilks,

    [Almost defiant stress on the word "whilks."