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And wallop the Frenchmen who live in Soho!
“The German invader is ravaging France
With infantry rifle and cavalry lance,
And beautiful Paris is fighting her best
To shake herself free from her terrible guest.
“The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,
Have all run away from the summons to arms;
They haven’t the pluck of a pigeon—I’ll go
And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!”
Old TIMOTHY tried it and found it succeed:
That day he caused many French noses to bleed;
Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,
And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.
He took care to abstain from employing his fist
On the old and the crippled, for they might resist;
A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,
But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.
Old TIM and Old PAUL, with the list of their foes,
Prostrated themselves at their EMILY’S toes:
“Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?”
And EMILY answered and EMILY said:
“Old TIM has thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores,
Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores;
Old PAUL has made little chaps’ noses to bleed—
Old PAUL has accomplished the pluckier deed!”
Ballad: The Mystic Selvagee
Perhaps already you may know
SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO?
A Captain in the Navy, he—
A Baronet and K.C.B.
You do? I thought so!
It was that Captain’s favourite whim
(A notion not confined to him)
That RODNEY was the greatest tar
Who ever wielded capstan-bar.
He had been taught so.
“BENBOW! CORNWALLIS! HOOD!—Belay!
Compared with RODNEY”—he would say—
“No other tar is worth a rap!
The great LORD RODNEY was the chap
The French to polish!
“Though, mind you, I respect LORD HOOD;
CORNWALLIS, too, was rather good;
BENBOW could enemies repel,
LORD NELSON, too, was pretty well—
That is, tol-lol-ish!”
SIR BLENNERHASSET spent his days
In learning RODNEY’S little ways,
And closely imitated, too,
His mode of talking to his crew—
His port and paces.
An ancient tar he tried to catch
Who’d served in RODNEY’S famous batch;
But since his time long years have fled,
And RODNEY’S tars are mostly dead:
Eheu fugaces!
But after searching near and far,
At last he found an ancient tar
Who served with RODNEY and his crew
Against the French in ’Eighty-two,
(That gained the peerage).
He gave him fifty pounds a year,
His rum, his baccy, and his beer;
And had a comfortable den
Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,
Is called the steerage.
“Now, JASPER”—’t was that sailor’s name—
“Don’t fear that you’ll incur my blame
By saying, when it seems to you,
That there is anything I do
That RODNEY wouldn’t.”
The ancient sailor turned his quid,
Prepared to do as he was bid:
“Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin,
You’ve done away with ‘swifting in’—
Well, sir, you shouldn’t!
“Upon your spars I see you’ve clapped
Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped.
I would not christen that a crime,
But ’twas not done in RODNEY’S time.
It looks half-witted!
Upon your maintop-stay, I see,
You always clap a selvagee!
Your stays, I see, are equalized—
No vessel, such as RODNEY prized,
Would thus be fitted!
“The German invader is ravaging France
With infantry rifle and cavalry lance,
And beautiful Paris is fighting her best
To shake herself free from her terrible guest.
“The Frenchmen in London, in craven alarms,
Have all run away from the summons to arms;
They haven’t the pluck of a pigeon—I’ll go
And wallop the Frenchmen who skulk in Soho!”
Old TIMOTHY tried it and found it succeed:
That day he caused many French noses to bleed;
Through foggy Soho he spread fear and dismay,
And Frenchmen all round him in agony lay.
He took care to abstain from employing his fist
On the old and the crippled, for they might resist;
A crippled old man may have pluck in his breast,
But the young and the strong ones are cowards confest.
Old TIM and Old PAUL, with the list of their foes,
Prostrated themselves at their EMILY’S toes:
“Oh, which of us two is the pluckier blade?”
And EMILY answered and EMILY said:
“Old TIM has thrashed runaway Frenchmen in scores,
Who ought to be guarding their cities and shores;
Old PAUL has made little chaps’ noses to bleed—
Old PAUL has accomplished the pluckier deed!”
Ballad: The Mystic Selvagee
Perhaps already you may know
SIR BLENNERHASSET PORTICO?
A Captain in the Navy, he—
A Baronet and K.C.B.
You do? I thought so!
It was that Captain’s favourite whim
(A notion not confined to him)
That RODNEY was the greatest tar
Who ever wielded capstan-bar.
He had been taught so.
“BENBOW! CORNWALLIS! HOOD!—Belay!
Compared with RODNEY”—he would say—
“No other tar is worth a rap!
The great LORD RODNEY was the chap
The French to polish!
“Though, mind you, I respect LORD HOOD;
CORNWALLIS, too, was rather good;
BENBOW could enemies repel,
LORD NELSON, too, was pretty well—
That is, tol-lol-ish!”
SIR BLENNERHASSET spent his days
In learning RODNEY’S little ways,
And closely imitated, too,
His mode of talking to his crew—
His port and paces.
An ancient tar he tried to catch
Who’d served in RODNEY’S famous batch;
But since his time long years have fled,
And RODNEY’S tars are mostly dead:
Eheu fugaces!
But after searching near and far,
At last he found an ancient tar
Who served with RODNEY and his crew
Against the French in ’Eighty-two,
(That gained the peerage).
He gave him fifty pounds a year,
His rum, his baccy, and his beer;
And had a comfortable den
Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,
Is called the steerage.
“Now, JASPER”—’t was that sailor’s name—
“Don’t fear that you’ll incur my blame
By saying, when it seems to you,
That there is anything I do
That RODNEY wouldn’t.”
The ancient sailor turned his quid,
Prepared to do as he was bid:
“Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin,
You’ve done away with ‘swifting in’—
Well, sir, you shouldn’t!
“Upon your spars I see you’ve clapped
Peak halliard blocks, all iron-capped.
I would not christen that a crime,
But ’twas not done in RODNEY’S time.
It looks half-witted!
Upon your maintop-stay, I see,
You always clap a selvagee!
Your stays, I see, are equalized—
No vessel, such as RODNEY prized,
Would thus be fitted!
Другие электронные книги автора William Schwenck Gilbert
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