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Bab Ballads and Savoy Songs
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Says Guy, "Shall a warrior laden
With a big spiky knob.
Stand idly and sob.
While a beautiful Saracen maiden
Is whipped by a Saracen snob?
"To London I'll go from my charmer."
Which he did, with his loot
(Seven hats and a flute),
And was nabbed for his Sydenham armor,
At Mr. Ben-Samuel's suit.
Sir Guy he was lodged in the Compter,
Her pa, in a rage,
Died (don't know his age),
His daughter, she married the prompter,
Grew bulky and quitted the stage.
KING BORRIA BUNGALEE BOO
King Borria Bungalee Boo
Was a man-eating African swell;
His sigh was a hullaballoo,
His whisper a horrible yell—
A horrible, horrible yell!
Four subjects, and all of them male,
To Borria doubled the knee,
They were once on a far larger scale,
But he'd eaten the balance, you see
("Scale" and "balance" is punning, you see.)
There was haughty Pish-Tush-Pooh-Bah,
There was lumbering Doodle-Dum-Deh,
Despairing Alack-a-Dey-Ah,
And good little Tootle-Tum-Teh—
Exemplary Tootle-Tum-Teh.
One day there was grief in the crew,
For they hadn't a morsel of meat,
And Borria Bungalee Boo
Was dying for something to eat—
"Come provide me with something to eat!"
"Alack-a-Dey, famished I feel;
Oh, good little Tootle-Tum-Teh,
Where on earth shall I look for a meal?
For I haven't no dinner to-day!—
Not a morsel of dinner to-day!
"Dear Tootle-Tum, what shall we do?
Come, get us a meal, or in truth,
If you don't we shall have to eat you,
Oh, adorable friend of our youth!
Thou beloved little friend of our youth!"
And he answered, "Oh Bungalee Boo,
For a moment I hope you will wait—
Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo
Is the queen of a neighboring state—
A remarkably neighboring state.
"Tippy-Wippity Tol-the-Rol-Loo,
She would pickle deliciously cold—
And her four pretty Amazons, too,
Are enticing, and not very old—
Twenty-seven is not very old.
"There is neat little Titty-Fol-Leh,
There is rollicking Tral-the-Ral-Lah,
There is jocular Waggety-Weh.
There is musical Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah—
There's the nightingale Doh-Reh-Mi-Fah!"
So the forces of Bungalee Boo
Marched forth in a terrible row,
And the ladies who fought for Queen Loo
Prepared to encounter the foe—
This dreadful insatiate foe!
But they sharpened no weapons at all,
And they poisoned no arrows—not they!
They made ready to conquer or fall
In a totally different way—
An entirely different way.
With a crimson and pearly-white dye
They endeavored to make themselves fair,
With black they encircled each eye,
And with yellow they painted their hair
(It was wool, but they thought it was hair).
And the forces they met in the field—
And the men of King Borria said,
"Amazonians, immediately yield!"
And their arrows they drew to the head,
Yes, drew them right up to the head.
But jocular Waggety-Weh,
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