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the bab ballads-第7部分
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But still they'd better meet; I thinks。〃
〃Assurement!〃 said MADAME PIERRE。
A sunny spot in sunny France
Was hit upon for this affair;
The ground was picked by MRS。 HANCE;
The stakes were pitched by MADAME PIERRE。
Said MRS。 H。; 〃Your work you see …
Go in; my noble boy; and win。〃
〃En garde; mon fils!〃 said MADAME P。
〃Allons!〃 〃Go on!〃 〃En garde!〃 〃Begin!〃
(The mothers were of decent size;
Though not particularly tall;
But in the sketch that meets your eyes
I've been obliged to draw them small。)
Loud sneered the doughty man of France;
〃Ho! ho! Ho! ho! Ha! ha! Ha! ha!
〃The French for 'Pish'〃 said THOMAS HANCE。
Said PIERRE; 〃L'Anglais; Monsieur; pour 'Bah。'〃
Said MRS。 H。; 〃Come; one! two! three! …
We're sittin' here to see all fair。〃
〃C'est magnifique!〃 said MADAME P。;
〃Mais; parbleu! ce n'est pas la guerre!〃
〃Je scorn un foe si lache que vous;〃
Said PIERRE; the doughty son of France。
〃I fight not coward foe like you!〃
Said our undaunted TOMMY HANCE。
〃The French for 'Pooh!'〃 our TOMMY cried。
〃L'Anglais pour 'Va!'〃 the Frenchman crowed。
And so; with undiminished pride;
Each went on his respective road。
Ballad: The Reverend Micah Sowls
The REVEREND MICAH SOWLS;
He shouts and yells and howls;
He screams; he mouths; he bumps;
He foams; he rants; he thumps。
His armour he has buckled on; to wage
The regulation war against the Stage;
And warns his congregation all to shun
〃The Presence…Chamber of the Evil One;〃
The subject's sad enough
To make him rant and puff;
And fortunately; too;
His Bishop's in a pew。
So REVEREND MICAH claps on extra steam;
His eyes are flashing with superior gleam;
He is as energetic as can be;
For there are fatter livings in that see。
The Bishop; when it's o'er;
Goes through the vestry door;
Where MICAH; very red;
Is mopping of his head。
〃Pardon; my Lord; your SOWLS' excessive zeal;
It is a theme on which I strongly feel。〃
(The sermon somebody had sent him down
From London; at a charge of half…a…crown。)
The Bishop bowed his head;
And; acquiescing; said;
〃I've heard your well…meant rage
Against the Modern Stage。
〃A modern Theatre; as I heard you say;
Sows seeds of evil broadcast … well it may;
But let me ask you; my respected son;
Pray; have you ever ventured into one?〃
〃My Lord;〃 said MICAH; 〃no!
I never; never go!
What! Go and see a play?
My goodness gracious; nay!〃
The worthy Bishop said; 〃My friend; no doubt
The Stage may be the place you make it out;
But if; my REVEREND SOWLS; you never go;
I don't quite understand how you're to know。〃
〃Well; really;〃 MICAH said;
〃I've often heard and read;
But never go … do you?〃
The Bishop said; 〃I do。〃
〃That proves me wrong;〃 said MICAH; in a trice:
〃I thought it all frivolity and vice。〃
The Bishop handed him a printed card;
〃Go to a theatre where they play our Bard。〃
The Bishop took his leave;
Rejoicing in his sleeve。
The next ensuing day
SOWLS went and heard a play。
He saw a dreary person on the stage;
Who mouthed and mugged in simulated rage;
Who growled and spluttered in a mode absurd;
And spoke an English SOWLS had never heard。
For 〃gaunt〃 was spoken 〃garnt;〃
And 〃haunt〃 transformed to 〃harnt;〃
And 〃wrath 〃 pronounced as 〃rath;〃
And 〃death〃 was changed to 〃dath。〃
For hours and hours that dismal actor walked;
And talked; and talked; and talked; and talked;
Till lethargy upon the parson crept;
And sleepy MICAH SOWLS serenely slept。
He slept away until
The farce that closed the bill
Had warned him not to stay;
And then he went away。
〃I thought MY gait ridiculous;〃 said he …
〃MY elocution faulty as could be;
I thought I mumbled on a matchless plan …
I had not seen our great Tragedian!
〃Forgive me; if you can;
O great Tragedian!
I own it with a sigh …
You're drearier than I!〃
Ballad: A Discontented Sugar Broker
A GENTLEMAN of City fame
Now claims your kind attention;
East India broking was his game;
His name I shall not mention:
No one of finely…pointed sense
Would violate a confidence;
And shall I go
And do it? No!
His name I shall not mention。
He had a trusty wife and true;
And very cosy quarters;
A manager; a boy or two;
Six clerks; and seven porters。
A broker must be doing well
(As any lunatic can tell)
Who can employ
An active boy;
Six clerks; and seven porters。
His knocker advertised no dun;
No losses made him sulky;
He had one sorrow … only one …
He was extremely bulky。
A man must be; I beg to state;
Exceptionally fortunate
Who owns his chief
And only grief
Is … being very bulky。
〃This load;〃 he'd say; 〃I cannot bear;
I'm nineteen stone or twenty!
Henceforward I'll go in for air
And exercise in plenty。〃
Most people think that; should it come;
They can reduce a bulging tum
To measures fair
By taking air
And exercise in plenty。
In every weather; every day;
Dry; muddy; wet; or gritty;
He took to dancing all the way
From Brompton to the City。
You do not often get the chance
Of seeing sugar brokers dance
From their abode
In Fulham Road
Through Brompton to the City。
He braved the gay and guileless laugh
Of children with their nusses;
The loud uneducated chaff
Of clerks on omnibuses。
Against all minor things that rack
A nicely…balanced mind; I'll back
The noisy chaff
And ill…bred laugh
Of clerks on omnibuses。
His friends; who heard his money chink;
And saw the house he rented;
And knew his wife; could never think
What made him discontented。
It never entered their pure minds
That fads are of eccentric kinds;
Nor would they own
That fat alone
Could make one discontented。
〃Your riches know no kind of pause;
Your trade is fast advancing;
You dance … but not for joy; because
You weep as you are dancing。
To dance implies that man is glad;
To weep implies that man is sad;
But here are you
Who do the two …
You weep as you are dancing!〃
His mania soon got noised about
And into all the papers;
His size increased beyond a doubt
For all his reckless capers:
It may seem singular to you;
But all his friends admit it true …
The more he found
His figure round;
The more he cut his capers。
His bulk increased … no matter that …
He tried the more to toss it …
He never spoke of it as 〃fat;〃
But 〃adipose deposit。〃
Upon my word; it seems to me
Unpardonable vanity
(And worse than that)
To call your fat
An 〃adipose deposit。〃
At length his brawny knees gave way;
And on the carpet sinking;
Upon his shapeless back he lay
And kicked away like winking。
Instead of seeing in his state
The finger of unswerving Fate;
He laboured still
To work his will;
And kicked away like winking。
His friends; disgusted with him now;
Away in silence wended …
I hardly like to tell you how
This dreadful story ended。
The shocking sequel to impart;
I must employ the limner's art …
If you would know;
This sketch will show
How his exertions ended。
MORAL。
I hate to preach … I hate to prate …
… I'm no fanatic croaker;
But learn contentment from the fate
Of this East India broker。
He'd everything a man of taste
Could ever want; except a waist;
And discontent
His size anent;
And bootless perseverance blind;
Completely wrecked the peace of mind
Of this East India broker。
Ballad: The Pantomime 〃Super〃 To His Mask
Vast empty shell!
Impertinent; preposterous abortion!
With vacant stare;
And ragged hair;
And every feature out of all proportion!
Embodiment of echoing inanity!
Excellent type of simpering insanity!
Unwieldy; clumsy nightmare of humanity!
I ring thy knell!
To…night thou diest;
Beast that destroy'st my heaven…born identity!
Nine weeks of nights;
Before the lights;
Swamped in thine own preposterous nonentity;
I've been ill…treated; cursed; and thrashed diurnally;
Credited for the smile you wear externally …
I feel disposed to smash thy face; infernally;
As there thou liest!
I've been thy brain:
I'VE been the brain that lit thy dull concavity!
The human race
Invest MY face
With thine expression of unchecked depravity;
Invested with a ghastly reciprocity;
I'VE been responsible for thy monstrosity;
I; for thy wanton; blundering ferocity …
But not again!
'T is time to toll
Thy knell; and that of follies pantomimical:
A nine weeks' run;
And thou hast done
All thou canst do to make thyself inimical。
Adieu; embodiment of all inanity!
Excellent type of simpering insanity!
Unwieldy; clumsy nightmare of humanity!
Freed is thy soul!
(THE MASK RESPONDETH。)
Oh! master mine;
Look thou within thee; ere again ill…using me。
Art thou aware
Of nothing there
Which might abuse thee; as thou art abusing me?
A brain that mourns THINE unredeemed rascality?
A soul that weeps at THY threadbare morality?
Both grieving that THEIR individuality
Is merged in thine?
Ballad: The Force Of Argument
Lord B。 was a nobleman bold
Who came of illustrious stocks;
He was thirty or forty years old;
And several feet in his socks。
To Turniptopville…by…the…Sea
This elegant nobleman went;
For that was a borough that he
Was anxious to rep…per…re…sent。
At local assemblies he danced
Until he felt thoroughly ill;
He waltzed; and he galoped; and lanced;
And threaded the mazy quadrille。
The maidens of Turniptopville
Were simple … ingenuous … pure …
And they all worked away with a will
The nobleman's heart to secure。
Two maidens all others beyond
Endeavoured his cares to dispel …
The one was the lively ANN POND;
The other sad MARY MOREL
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