The Lord Chancellor's Song -- W S Gilbert

(Poem #1887) The Lord Chancellor's Song Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest: Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers: Love, nightmare-like, lies heavy on my chest, And weaves itself into my midnight slumbers! When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is taboo'd by anxiety, I conceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in, without impropriety; For your brain is on fire -- the bedclothes conspire of usual slumber to plunder you: First your counterpane goes, and uncovers your toes, and your sheet slips demurely from under you; Then the blanketing tickles -- you feel like mixed pickles -- so terribly sharp is the pricking, And you're hot, and you're cross, and you tumble and toss till there's nothing --twixt you and the ticking. Then the bedclothes all creep to the ground in a heap, and you pick 'em all up in a tangle; Next your pillow resigns and politely declines to remain at its usual angle! Well, you get some repose in the form of a doze, with hot eye-balls and head ever aching. But your slumbering teems with such horrible dreams that you'd very much better be waking; For you dream you are crossing the Channel, and tossing about in a steamer from Harwich -- Which is something between a large bathing machine and a very small second-class carriage -- And you're giving a treat (penny ice and cold meat) to a party of friends and relations -- They're a ravenous horde -- and they all came on board at Sloane Square and South Kensington Stations. And bound on that journey you find your attorney (who started that morning from Devon); He's a bit undersized, and you don't feel surprised when he tells you he's only eleven. Well, you're driving like mad with this singular lad (by the by, the ship's now a four-wheeler), And you're playing round games, and he calls you bad names when you tell him that "ties pay the dealer"; But this you can't stand, so you throw up your hand, and you find you're as cold as an icicle, In your shirt and your socks (the black silk with gold clocks), crossing Salisbury Plain on a bicycle: And he and the crew are on bicycles too -- which they've somehow or other invested in -- And he's telling the tars all the particulars of a company he's interested in -- It's a scheme of devices, to get at low prices all goods from cough mixtures to cables (Which tickled the sailors), by treating retailers as though they were all vegetables -- You get a good spadesman to plant a small tradesman (first take off his boots with a boot-tree), And his legs will take root, and his fingers will shoot, and they'll blossom and bud like a fruit-tree -- From the greengrocer tree you get grapes and green pea, cauliflower, pineapple, and cranberries, While the pastrycook plant cherry brandy will grant, apple puffs, and three corners, and Banburys -- The shares are a penny, and ever so many are taken by Rothschild and Baring, And just as a few are allotted to you, you awake with a shudder despairing -- You're a regular wreck, with a crick in your neck, and no wonder you snore, for your head's on the floor, and you've needles and pins from your soles to your shins, and your flesh is a-creep, for your left leg's asleep, and you've cramp in your toes, and a fly on your nose, and some fluff in your lung, and a feverish tongue, and a thirst that's intense, and a general sense that you haven't been sleeping in clover; But the darkness has passed, and it's daylight at last, and the night has been long -- ditto, ditto my song -- and thank goodness they're both of them over! [Lord Chancellor falls exhausted on a seat.] -- W S Gilbert

Note: From Iolanthe. I've split the (long!) lines into two; you can see the
song in its original formatting here:
  http://math.boisestate.edu/GaS/iolanthe/web_op/iol20.html

No canon of patter songs would be complete without this masterpiece of
Gilbert and Sullivan's, one of the most widely recognised of the genre, and,
to my mind, one of the finest. Gilbert was, of course, a master of carefully
crafted and logically worked out nonsense; here, he takes the license
afforded by a dreamscape and abandons even the semblance of plausibility,
shifting into a surreal (but oddly coherent) stream-of-consciousness song
that, like many of the duo's best pieces, transcends the operetta within
which it occurs.

What I really like about this song is the nigh-perfect way in which it
conveys a sense of stumbling headlong through the shifting narrative of the
dream, culminating in the breathless, helter-skelter rush of the last two
passages. This is already evident in the lyrics, but it attains its full
effect when married to Sullivan's music; the final product is both instantly
captivating and utterly memorable.

martin

[Links]

Everything Iolanthe: http://math.boisestate.edu/GaS/iolanthe/html/index.html

A Wandering Minstrel I -- W S Gilbert

About time we ran this one...

(Poem #1814) A Wandering Minstrel I A wandering minstrel I -- A thing of shreds and patches, Of ballads, songs and snatches, And dreamy lullaby! My catalogue is long, Through every passion ranging, And to your humours changing I tune my supple song! I tune my supple song! Are you in sentimental mood? I'll sigh with you, Oh, sorrow, sorrow! On maiden's coldness do you brood? I'll do so, too -- Oh, sorrow, sorrow! I'll charm your willing ears With songs of lovers' fears, While sympathetic tears My cheeks bedew -- Oh, sorrow, sorrow! But if patriotic sentiment is wanted, I've patriotic ballads cut and dried; For where'er our country's banner may be planted, All other local banners are defied! Our warriors, in serried ranks assembled, Never quail -- or they conceal it if they do -- And I shouldn't be surprised if nations trembled Before the mighty troops of Titipu! Chorus: We shouldn't be surprised if nations trembled, Trembled with alarm Before the mighty troops, The troops of Titipu! And if you call for a song of the sea, We'll heave the capstan round, With a yeo heave ho, for the wind is free, Her anchor's a-trip and her helm's a-lee, Hurrah for the homeward bound! Chorus: Yeo-ho -- heave ho -- Hurrah for the homeward bound! To lay aloft in a howling breeze May tickle a landsman's taste, But the happiest hour a sailor sees Is when he's down At an inland town, With his Nancy on his knees, yeo ho! And his arm around her waist! Chorus: Then man the capstan -- off we go, As the fiddler swings us round, With a yeo heave ho, And a rum below, Hurrah for the homeward bound! With a yeo heave ho, And a rum below, Yeo-ho, heave ho, Yeo-ho, heave ho, Heave ho, heave ho, yeo-ho! A wandering minstrel I -- A thing of shreds and patches, Of ballads, songs and snatches, And dreamy lullaby! And dreamy lulla-lullaby, Lullaby! -- W S Gilbert

Note: From "The Mikado", sung by the character Nanki Poo

Unsurprisingly enough, the main motivation for today's poem is historical -
as long-time readers of the list are aware, it was Gilbert's "wondering
minstrel" who inspired our name. That aside, this is a wonderful song from
my favourite operetta, and one that would happily take its place in any
best-of collection.

There is one minor problem with running it here, though - while the
collaborative genius of Gilbert and Sullivan melded three very different
pieces smoothly and neatly into a single song, it doesn't quite work on the
printed page; the transitions are disconcertingly abrupt without the music
to ease them along. If you're unfamiliar with the music, I suggest viewing
this as a sequence of three poems (they're nicely self-contained) and not
being unduly distracted by the differences in style between them.

The first segment is by far the weakest (excepting the initial four lines,
which serve more as an introduction to the whole) - Gilbert's weakness at
writing love songs, even (or perhaps especially) in parody, shows up once
again, and even Sullivan's music strikes me as uncharacteristically lacking.

The improvement in the next piece is immediate - both Gilbert and Sullivan
are in their element here, with wonderfully quotable (and singable!) bits
like
  Our warriors, in serried ranks assembled,
  Never quail -- or they conceal it if they do --

Gilbert at his satirical finest.

And finally, for yet another shift in tone, the "song of the sea" is a
different kind of 'parody' altogether - despite the twist on the traditional
theme, I find it more thought-provoking than satirical. Sailors in the
audience, feel free to chime in :)

martin

p.s. While on the subject of The Mikado, I cannot resist sharing this
delightful cryptic clue by Thomas Thurman:

  What the town of Titipu was to the Mikado (8)

The answer in ROT13 (paste into the box at http://www.retards.org/projects/rot13/ to decipher):
FHOGVGYR (gur pbzcyrgr gvgyr vf "Gur Zvxnqb, be Gur Gbja bs Gvgvch")

Etiquette -- W S Gilbert

(Poem #1285) Etiquette The Ballyshannon foundered off the the coast of Cariboo, And down in fathoms many went the captain and the crew; Down went the owners -- greedy men whom hope of gain allured: Oh dry the starting tear, for they were heavily ensured. Besides the captain and the mate, the owners and the crew, The passengers were also drowned excepting only two: Young Peter Gray, who tasted teas for Baker, Croop & Co. And Somers, who from Eastern shores, imported indigo. These passengers, by reason of their clinging to a mast Upon a desert island were eventually cast. They hunted for their meals, as Alexander Selkirk used, But they couldn't chat together -- they had not been introduced. For Peter Gray, and Somers too, though certainly in trade, Were properly particular about the friends they made; And somehow thus they settled it without a word of mouth -- That Gray should take the northern half, while Somers took the South. On Peter's portion oysters grew -- a delicacy rare, But oysters were a delicacy Peter couldn't bear, On Somers' side was turtle, on the shingle lying thick, Which Somers couldn't eat, because it always made him sick. Gray gnashed his teeth with envy as he saw a mighty store, Of turtle unmolested on his fellow-creature's shore. The oysters at his feet aside impatiently he shoved, For turtle and his mother were the only things he loved. And Somers sighed in sorrow as he settled in the south, For the thought of Peter's oysters brought the water to his mouth. He longed to lay him down upon the shelly bed, and stuff: He had often eaten oysters, but had never had enough. How they wished an introduction to each other they had had When on board the Ballyshannon! And it drove them nearly mad. To think how very friendly with each other they might get, If it wasn't for the arbitrary rule of etiquette! One day when out a-hunting for the mus ridiculus, Gray overheard his fellow man soliloquizing thus: "I wonder how the playmates of my youth are getting on, McConnell, S.B. Walters, Paddy Byles, and Robinson?" These simple words made Peter as delighted as could be Old chummies at the Charterhouse were Robinson and he! He walked straight up to Somers, then he turned extremely red. Hesitated, hummed and hawed a bit, then cleared his throat and said: "I beg your pardon -- pray forgive me if I seem too bold, But you have breathed a name I know familiarly of old. You spoke aloud of Robinson -- I happened to be by -- You know him?" "Yes, extremely well" "Allow me -- so do I!" It was enough: they felt they could more sociably get on, For (ah, the magic of the fact!) they each knew Robinson! And Mr. Somers' turtle was at Peter's service quite, And Mr. Somers punished Peter's oyster beds all night. They soon became like brothers from community of wrongs: They wrote each other little odes and sang each other songs; They told each other anecdotes disparaging their wives; On several occasions, too, they saved each other's lives. They felt quite melancholy when they parted for the night, And got up in the morning soon as ever it was light; Each other's pleasant company they reckoned so upon, And all because it happened that they both knew Robinson. They lived for many years on that inhospitable shore, And day by day they learned to love each other more and more. At last, to their astonishment, on getting up one day, They saw a frigate anchored in the offing of the bay. To Peter an idea occurred. "Suppose we cross the main? So good an opportunity may not be found again". And Somers thought a minute, then ejaculated "Done! I wonder how my business in the City's getting on?" "But stay," said Mr. Peter: "when in England as you know, I earned a living tasting teas for Baker, Croop and Co., I may be superseded -- my employer thinks me dead!" "Then come with me," said Somers, "and taste indigo instead". But all their plans were scattered in moment when they found The vessel was a convict ship from Portland, outward bound; When a boat came off to fetch them, though they felt it very kind, To go on board they firmly but respectfully declined. As both the happy settlers roared with laughter at the joke, They recognized a gentlemanly fellow pulling stroke: 'Twas Robinson -- a convict, in an unbecoming frock! Condemned to seven years for misappropriating stock!!! They laughed no more, for Somers thought he had been rather rash In knowing one whose friend had misappropriated cash; And Peter thought a foolish tack he must have gone upon In making the acquaintance of a friend of Robinson. At first they didn't quarrel very openly, I've heard; They nodded when they met, and now and then exchanged a word; The word grew rare, and rarer still the nodding of the head, And when they meet each other now, they cut each other dead. To allocate the island they agreed by word of mouth, And Peter takes the north again, and Somers takes the south; And Peter has the oysters, which he loathes with horror grim, And Somers has the turtle -- turtle disagrees with him. -- W S Gilbert

[Commentary]

When I first read this poem I was certain that the denouement would be
the discovery that Gray's childhood friend Robinson was a different
Robinson from Somers' schoolmate Robinson. But Gilbert's chosen ending
is much more satisfactory. The delicious way in which it skewers the
essential arbitrariness (not to mention pretence) of much of what
constitutes 'proper etiquette' is just perfect.

Gilbert's rhyme and scansion are, as always, spot on. Another thing I
like about today's poem is its symmetry: from shipwreck to comradeship
and back to isolation, with all the inevitability of a classical
tragedy...

thomas.

[Notes]

"Alexander Selkirk" - a real-life castaway who became the model for
Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Hmm, I wonder if Gilbert's choice of the name
'Robinson' for the man who becomes Gray's and Somers' sole link with
civilization is intentional...

"Cariboo" - a place in British Columbia, Canada.

"Charterhouse" - an English public school:
[broken link] http://www.charterhouse.org.uk/_chweb/default.asp

"mus ridiculus" - Latin for 'ridiculous mouse'. The phrase is from
Horace, Epistles, Book II, 3, Ars Poetica (The Art of Poetry), line 139:
"parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus", which translates to "the
mountains are in labour; a ridiculous mouse will be born". This is
Horace ripping other poets who promise great things of their work but do
not deliver; they talk the talk but don't walk the walk.

[Links]

Sir William Schwenk Gilbert:
Poem #88, The Major General's Song
Poem #135, I've Got a Little List
Poem #161, The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
Poem #247, To Sit In Solemn Silence...
Poem #505, The Story of Prince Agib
Poem #899, Ballad: The Sorcerer's Song
Poem #1023, The Soldiers of our Queen

Seafood:
Poem #161, The Yarn of the Nancy Bell  -- W. S. Gilbert
Poem #284, Most Anglers are Very Humane  -- Norman Rowland Gale
Poem #347, The Walrus and the Carpenter  -- Lewis Carroll
Poem #935, The Lobster Quadrille -- Lewis Carroll
Poem #448, To The Immortal Memory of the Halibut, On Which I Dined This
Day, Monday, April 26, 1784  -- William Cowper

Etiquette (sort of):
Poem #463, Disobedience  -- A. A. Milne
Poem #638, Song of Perfect Propriety -- Dorothy Parker
Poem #809, Jim -- Hilaire Belloc

The Soldiers of our Queen -- W S Gilbert

This week's theme: the ever-popular triple rhyme. Contributions, as always,
welcome.

(Poem #1023) The Soldiers of our Queen DRAGOONS: The soldiers of our Queen Are linked in friendly tether; Upon the battle scene They fight the foe together. There ev'ry mother's son Prepared to fight and fall is; The enemy of one The enemy of all is! The enemy of one The enemy of all is! [On an order from the MAJOR they fall back.] [Enter the COLONEL. All salute.] COLONEL: If you want a receipt for that popular mystery, Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon, DRAGOONS: [saluting] Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! COLONEL: Take all the remarkable people in history, Rattle them off to a popular tune. DRAGOONS: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! COLONEL: The pluck of Lord Nelson on board of the Victory -- Genius of Bismarck devising a plan -- The humour of Fielding (which sounds contradictory) -- Coolness of Paget about to trepan -- The science of Jullien, the eminent musico -- Wit of Macaulay, who wrote of Queen Anne -- The pathos of Paddy, as rendered by Boucicault -- Style of the Bishop of Sodor and Man -- The dash of a D'Orsay, divested of quackery -- Narrative powers of Dickens and Thackeray -- Victor Emmanuel -- peak-haunting Peveril -- Thomas Aquinas, and Doctor Sacheverell -- Tupper and Tennyson -- Daniel Defoe -- Anthony Trollope and Mister Guizot! Ah! DRAGOONS: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! COLONEL DRAGOONS Take of these elements all A Heavy Dragoon, that is fusible a Heavy Dragoon, Melt them all down in a A Heavy Dragoon, pipkin or crucible a Heavy Dragoon, Set them to simmer, A Heavy Dragoon and take off the scum, a Heavy Dragoon, And a Heavy Dragoon Is the residuum! is the residuum! COLONEL: If you want a receipt for this soldier-like paragon, Get at the wealth of the Czar (if you can) -- The family pride of a Spaniard from Aragon -- Force of Mephisto pronouncing a ban -- A smack of Lord Waterford, reckless and rollicky -- Swagger of Roderick, heading his clan -- The keen penetration of Paddington Pollaky -- Grace of an Odalisque on a divan -- The genius strategic of Caesar or Hannibal -- Skill of Sir Garnet in thrashing a cannibal -- Flavour of Hamlet -- the Stranger, a touch of him -- Little of Manfred (but not very much of him) -- Beadle of Burlington -- Richardson's show -- Mister Micawber and Madame Tussaud! Ah! DRAGOONS: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! COLONEL DRAGOONS Take of these elements all A Heavy Dragoon, that is fusible a Heavy Dragoon, Melt them all down in a A Heavy Dragoon, pipkin or crucible a Heavy Dragoon, Set them to simmer, A Heavy Dragoon and take off the scum, a Heavy Dragoon, And a Heavy Dragoon Is the residuum! is the residuum! -- W S Gilbert

Note: receipt: recipe, formula

The triple rhyme, as I'll be the first to admit, is not the most serious of
poetic devices. Indeed, the effect is, if not precisely silly, definitely
lighthearted, and the focus is as often as not on the cleverness of the
rhyme rather than on what it is actually saying. This, combined with the
relative difficulty of sustaining a good set of perfect triple rhymes, makes
it a rather rarely encountered device; however, when well done the effect is
seldom less than delightful.

Given the lighthearted air, and the focus on form as much as content, it is
almost natural that the chief examples of triple rhymes are in humorous
verse and in musicals, both of which lay a greater than usual stress on the
sound of the verse. And the two genres combine brilliantly in the operettas
of Gilbert and Sullivan, making it not at all surprising that they contain
several excellent triple-rhymed sequences.

Gilbert, of course, not only dabbles freely in the form, but handles it with
his usual flair throughout. The most famous example is undoubtedly the Major
General's song (which achieves the additional feat of imposing triple rhymes
on a duple metre), but for the sheer playful pleasure of rhyming, and for
the deft way in which it mixes single and triple rhymes, today's song is
just as noteworthy.

Like 'Modern Major General', 'Soldiers of Our Queen' is really little more
than a list of loosely connected lines strung together by sheer force of
rhyme and metre - and like the former, it succeeds brilliantly. Especially
when combined with Sullivan's music, the song is a joy to read, to sing and
to parody.

Postscript: 'fusible' doesn't quite rhyme with 'crucible' - does anyone know
whether it did in Gilbert's day, or if he was just allowing himself a little
give in the rhyme?

Links:
  The Patience homepage at
  http://math.boisestate.edu/gas/patience/html/patience_home.html has links
  to MIDI and RealAudio files of the tune

  An interesting discussion on updating the references in the song:
    http://math.boisestate.edu/gas/patience/discussion/heavy.html

  And a slightly twisted take thereon by Tom Holt:
    http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=%40zetnet.co.uk

  My own sincere flattery of Gilbert:
    [broken link] http://groups.google.com/groups?selm=a45b01%241cmnij%241%40ID-121029.news.dfncis.de

  Nor has the introductory verse escaped its share of attention:
    http://members.aol.com/gsvloc/soldier.htm

  George Klawitter on the "scarce, and usually silly" triple rhyme:
    [broken link] http://www.stedwards.edu/hum/klawitter/poetics/devices.html#masc

  Some other triply-rhymed pieces of G&S:
    The Major General's Song: Poem #88
    The Sorcerer's Song: Poem #900

-martin

Ballad: The Sorcerer's Song -- W S Gilbert

Sending this on Martin's behalf:

(Poem #900) Ballad: The Sorcerer's Song Oh! My name is John Wellington Wells - I'm a dealer in magic and spells, In blessings and curses, And ever-filled purses, In prophecies, witches, and knells! If you want a proud foe to make tracks - If you'd melt a rich uncle in wax - You've but to look in On our resident Djinn, Number seventy, Simmery Axe! We've a first-class assortment of magic; And for raising a posthumous shade With effects that are comic or tragic, There's no cheaper house in the trade. Love-philtre - we've quantities of it; And for knowledge if any one burns, We keep an extremely small prophet, a prophet Who brings us unbounded returns: For he can prophesy With a wink of his eye, Peep with security Into futurity, Sum up your history, Clear up a mystery, Humour proclivity For a nativity. With mirrors so magical, Tetrapods tragical, Bogies spectacular, Answers oracular, Facts astronomical, Solemn or comical, And, if you want it, he Makes a reduction on taking a quantity! Oh! If anyone anything lacks, He'll find it all ready in stacks, If he'll only look in On the resident Djinn, Number seventy, Simmery Axe! He can raise you hosts, Of ghosts, And that without reflectors; And creepy things With wings, And gaunt and grisly spectres! He can fill you crowds Of shrouds, And horrify you vastly; He can rack your brains With chains, And gibberings grim and ghastly. Then, if you plan it, he Changes organity With an urbanity, Full of Satanity, Vexes humanity With an inanity Fatal to vanity - Driving your foes to the verge of insanity. Barring tautology, In demonology, 'Lectro biology, Mystic nosology, Spirit philology, High class astrology, Such is his knowledge, he Isn't the man to require an apology Oh! My name is John Wellington Wells - I'm a dealer in magic and spells, In blessings and curses, And ever-filled purses - In prophecies, witches, and knells. If any one anything lacks, He'll find it all ready in stacks, If he'll only look in On the resident Djinn, Number seventy, Simmery Axe! -- W S Gilbert

Appears in the Gilbert & Sullivan operetta "The Sorcerer", which had its
premiere at the Opera Comique, London, November 17th, 1877. This was the
first of G&S's operas to be produced by the Richard D'Oyly Carte company.

'John Wellington Wells' is of Gilbert's more famous pieces, and rightly so -
words like 'helter-skelter' and 'breathless' approach, but don't quite do
justice to, the dizzying cascade of twisted rhymes and tossed metre that
flows seemingly effortlessly through Wellington Wells' catalogue of marvels.

Structurewise, the song is rather unusual in that it divides into two nested
sections - the outer "My Name is John Wellington Wells", and the inner
description of the "very small prophet", with a very different tune and
metre for each. It works well, though, the two parts segueing in and out
without jarring, and intertwined neatly through the use of the refrain.

As is typical for Gilbert, the song has an undercurrent of silliness - or,
perhaps more accurately, ridiculousness - running through it. Any tendencies
towards a serious atmosphere are neatly subverted by side comments like 'and
that without reflectors', the use of adjectives like 'creepy', and rhymes
like 'And, if you want it, he / Makes a reduction on taking a quantity!'.

I'm actually not sure how well the song works within the play (which is not
one of my favourites anyway), but as a standalone it is delightful,
showcasing Gilbert's ability to carry extended sequences of rhymes with
never a faltering syllable.

-martin.

[Links]

Sir William Schwenck Gilbert on the Minstrels:
Poem #88, The Major General's Song
Poem #135, I've Got a Little List
Poem #161, The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
Poem #247, To Sit In Solemn Silence...
Poem #505, The Story of Prince Agib

And elsewhere:
http://math.boisestate.edu/gas/ is as good a place to start as any.

The Story of Prince Agib -- W S Gilbert

(Poem #505) The Story of Prince Agib Strike the concertina's melancholy string! Blow the spirit-stirring harp like anything! Let the piano's martial blast Rouse the echoes of the past, For of AGIB, Prince of Tartary, I sing! Of AGIB, who, amid Tartaric scenes, Wrote a lot of ballet-music in his teens: His gentle spirit rolls In the melody of souls-- Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means. Of AGIB, who could readily, at sight, Strum a march upon the loud Theodolite. He would diligently play On the Zoetrope all day, And blow the gay Pantechnicon all night. One winter--I am shaky in my dates-- Came two starving Tartar minstrels to his gates; Oh, Allah be obeyed, How infernally they played! I remember that they called themselves the "Ouaits." Oh! that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, Photographically lined On the tablet of my mind, When a yesterday has faded from its page! Alas! PRINCE AGIB went and asked them in; Gave them beer, and eggs, and sweets, and scent, and tin; And when (as snobs would say) They had "put it all away," He requested them to tune up and begin. Though its icy horror chill you to the core, I will tell you what I never told before-- The consequences true Of that awful interview, For I listened at the keyhole in the door! They played him a sonata--let me see! "Medulla oblongata"--key of G. Then they began to sing That extremely lovely thing, "Scherzando! ma non troppo, ppp." He gave them money, more than they could count, Scent from a most ingenious little fount, More beer in little kegs, Many dozen hard-boiled eggs, And goodies to a fabulous amount. Now follows the dim horror of my tale, And I feel I'm growing gradually pale; For even at this day, Though its sting has passed away, When I venture to remember it, I quail! The elder of the brothers gave a squeal, All-overish it made me for to feel. "O Prince," he says, says he, "If a Prince indeed you be, I've a mystery I'm going to reveal! "Oh, listen, if you'd shun a horrid death, To what the gent who's speaking to you saith: No 'Ouaits' in truth are we, As you fancy that we be, For (ter-remble!) I am ALECK--this is BETH!" Said AGIB, "Oh! accursed of your kind, I have heard that ye are men of evil mind!" BETH gave a dreadful shriek-- But before he'd time to speak I was mercilessly collared from behind. In number ten or twelve, or even more, They fastened me, full length, upon the floor. On my face extended flat, I was walloped with a cat, For listening at the keyhole of a door. Oh! the horror of that agonising thrill! (I can feel the place in frosty weather still.) For a week from ten to four I was fastened to the floor, While a mercenary wopped me with a will! They branded me and broke me on a wheel, And they left me in a hospital to heal; And, upon my solemn word, I have never, never heard What those Tartars had determined to reveal. But that day of sorrow, misery, and rage, I shall carry to the Catacombs of Age, Photographically lined On the tablet of my mind, When a yesterday has faded from its page! -- W S Gilbert

          (a Bab Ballad)

Gilbert is, of course, well known for his nonsense verse, but this little
piece goes beyond the realm of nonsense and into the truly surreal. In fact,
it sounds like one of his dream sequences, with the random nonsequiturs
toned down slightly, but just as 'dreamlike' an atmosphere, where nothing is
surprising, and explanations unnecessary.

Paradoxically, what makes this piece seem more surreal than, say, the dream
sequence from Iolanthe[1] is the very fact that the randomness is toned
down. There is just enough of an overall structure to prevent it's descent
into free association, and the vague feeling that it *does* all make perfect
sense at some level. (It doesn't, of course, as the use of nonsense words
makes patent, but the impression is there.)

And I must mention the wonderful sequence from verse 2:

 His gentle spirit rolls
 In the melody of souls--
 Which is pretty, but I don't know what it means.

Which is pure Gilbert (in fact it reminds me of something from one of the
operettas, but I can't think what; possibly the 'Heart Foam' piece from
Patience), and the one bit that made me laugh out loud.

Construction:

The unusual element here is the use of perfectly good words with an almost
Humpty-Dumptyesque disregard for their meanings. Since half the fun here
lies in discovering these for yourself, I won't post the definitions, but if
there's a word in there you don't recognise, look it up - it's almost
certainly used wrongly.

Links:

We've had a lot of Gilbert in the past, though it's tended to concentrate
more on the G&S works than on th Bab Ballads (and for good reason - they're
far better :)). See www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/index_poet.html

For a biography and some nice G&S links see poem #88

-martin

To Sit In Solemn Silence... -- W S Gilbert

(Poem #247) To Sit In Solemn Silence... To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock, In a pestilential prison, with a life-long lock, Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock, From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block! -- W S Gilbert

         (from The Mikado)

Note: This fragment appears at the end of a longer song[1], in which various
  people explain why they will not trade places with a condemned man; after
  various different lead-ins ("I must decline..." "I don't much care..." "So
  I object...") they sing the above piece in chorus.

Paralleling the enormous popularity of the Gilbert and Sullivan operas, a
number of the songs have achieved an almost independent prominence; notable
examples being the Captain's song from HMS Pinafore and the Major General's
song from The Pirates of Penzance.

Slightly less famous, but no less noteworthy are some of the smaller, less
standalone fragments embedded like gems within larger pieces. Although they
require a bit of context to fully appreciate, they often show Gilbert at his
very best; not a word out of place, not a break in the rhythm, and lyrics
that stick in one's memory (though it's admittedly hard to see how this
distinguishes them from anything else he wrote).

The above piece is one of my two favourite fragments (the other being the
'Now is not this ridiculous' chorus from Patience); it also has a special
place in my affection as being the first piece of G&S I ever read. I came
across it unattributed, and long before I knew who either Gilbert or
Sullivan were anyway, but fell in love with it; it remains the finest piece
of alliterative patter verse I have yet encountered[2]. (It was also a
pleasant experience discovering who had written it, and being able to put a
tune to the words).

And of course no Mikado commentary would be complete without my urging you
to listen, if at all possible, to what is undoubtedly the best work Gilbert
and Sullivan have produced - the lyrics are great, but the music adds a
whole new dimension.

[1] Whole text at <[broken link] http://diamond.idbsu.edu/gas/mikado/libretto.txt>
[2] possibly excepting Swinburne's 'Nephelidia', poem #99, though 'To Sit
In Solemn Silence' has the advantage of being shorter and therefore better
able to maintain consistency.

For random Gilbert and Sullivan info, including a biography and links, see
the previous pieces in the archive
<[broken link] http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/index_poet.html>.

- m.

The Yarn of the "Nancy Bell" -- W S Gilbert

Not for the weak of stomach... <g>

(Poem #161) The Yarn of the "Nancy Bell" 'TWAS on the shores that round our coast From Deal to Ramsgate span, That I found alone on a piece of stone An elderly naval man. His hair was weedy, his beard was long, And weedy and long was he, And I heard this wight on the shore recite, In a singular minor key: "Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig." And he shook his fists and he tore his hair, Till I really felt afraid, For I couldn't help thinking the man had been drinking, And so I simply said: "Oh, elderly man, it's little I know Of the duties of men of the sea, And I'll eat my hand if I understand However you can be "At once a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig." Then he gave a hitch to his trousers, which Is a trick all seamen larn, And having got rid of a thumping quid, He spun this painful yarn: "'Twas in the good ship NANCY BELL That we sailed to the Indian Sea, And there on a reef we come to grief, Which has often occurred to me. "And pretty nigh all the crew was drowned (There was seventy-seven o' soul), And only ten of the NANCY'S men Said 'Here!' to the muster-roll. "There was me and the cook and the captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And the bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig. "For a month we'd neither wittles nor drink, Till a-hungry we did feel, So we drawed a lot, and, accordin' shot The captain for our meal. "The next lot fell to the NANCY'S mate, And a delicate dish he made; Then our appetite with the midshipmite We seven survivors stayed. "And then we murdered the bo'sun tight, And he much resembled pig; Then we wittled free, did the cook and me, On the crew of the captain's gig. "Then only the cook and me was left, And the delicate question, 'Which Of us two goes to the kettle?' arose, And we argued it out as sich. "For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, And the cook he worshipped me; But we'd both be blowed if we'd either be stowed In the other chap's hold, you see. "'I'll be eat if you dines off me,' says TOM; 'Yes, that,' says I, 'you'll be, - 'I'm boiled if I die, my friend,' quoth I; And 'Exactly so,' quoth he. "Says he, 'Dear JAMES, to murder me Were a foolish thing to do, For don't you see that you can't cook ME, While I can - and will - cook YOU!' "So he boils the water, and takes the salt And the pepper in portions true (Which he never forgot), and some chopped shalot. And some sage and parsley too. "'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, Which his smiling features tell, ''T will soothing be if I let you see How extremely nice you'll smell.' "And he stirred it round and round and round, And he sniffed at the foaming froth; When I ups with his heels, and smothers his squeals In the scum of the boiling broth. "And I eat that cook in a week or less, And - as I eating be The last of his chops, why, I almost drops, For a wessel in sight I see! * * * * "And I never larf, and I never smile, And I never lark nor play, But sit and croak, and a single joke I have - which is to say: "Oh, I am a cook and a captain bold, And the mate of the NANCY brig, And a bo'sun tight, and a midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig!'" -- W S Gilbert

While Gilbert is best known for his long and fruitful collaboration with
composer Arthur Sullivan, he has also written a number of early pieces,
submitted to Punch under the pseudonym Bab, that are both funny and
rewarding. Perhaps the best known is the Yarn of the Nancy Bell, rejected by
Punch as being 'too cannibalistic'.

While the Gilbert of the G&S operas had clearly matured as a poet, the above
poem still shows all of the characteristics he is famous for - flawless,
pattering verse, some painfully twisted rhymes and an often skewed sense of
humour.

Note, in passing, the similarity between Gilbert's 'elderly naval man' and
Coleridge's Ancient Mariner.

m.

Note:

  THE "BAB BALLADS" appeared originally in the columns of "FUN," when that
  periodical was under the editorship of the late TOM HOOD. They were
  subsequently republished in two volumes, one called "THE BAB BALLADS," the
  other "MORE BAB BALLADS."  The period during which they were written
  extended over some three or four years; many, however, were composed
  hastily, and under the discomforting necessity of having to turn out a
  quantity of lively verse by a certain day in every week.  As it seemed to
  me (and to others) that the volumes were disfigured by the presence of
  these hastily written impostors, I thought it better to withdraw from both
  volumes such Ballads as seemed to show evidence of carelessness or undue
  haste, and to publish the remainder in the compact form under which they
  are now presented to the reader.

  It may interest some to know that the first of the series, "The Yarn of
  the NANCY BELL," was originally offered to "PUNCH," - to which I was, at
  that time, an occasional contributor.  It was, however, declined by the
  then Editor, on the ground that it was "too cannibalistic for his readers'
  tastes."

        -- W. S. Gilbert, Preface to 'Fifty "Bab" Ballads - Much Sound and
        Little Sense'

For more about Gilbert, see poem #87

I've Got a Little List -- W S Gilbert

(Poem #135) I've Got a Little List SONG--KO-KO with CHORUS OF MEN. As some day it may happen that a victim must be found, I've got a little list--I've got a little list Of society offenders who might well be underground, And who never would be missed--who never would be missed! There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs-- All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs-- All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat-- All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like _that_-- And all third persons who on spoiling tete-a-tetes insist-- They'd none of 'em be missed--they'd none of 'em be missed! CHORUS. He's got 'em on the list--he's got 'em on the list; And they'll none of 'em be missed--they'll none of 'em be missed. There's the banjo serenader, and the others of his race, And the piano-organist--I've got him on the list! And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face, They never would be missed--they never would be missed! Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone, All centuries but this, and every country but his own; And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy, And who "doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try"; And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist-- I don't think she'd be missed--I'm sure she'd not he missed! CHORUS. He's got her on the list--he's got her on the list; And I don't think she'll be missed--I'm sure she'll not be missed! And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife, The Judicial humorist--I've got him on the list! All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life-- They'd none of 'em be missed--they'd none of 'em be missed. And apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, Such as--What d'ye call him--Thing'em-bob, and likewise--Never-mind, And 'St--'st--'st--and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who-- The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you. But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list, For they'd none of 'em be missed--they'd none of 'em be missed! CHORUS. You may put 'em on the list--you may put 'em on the list; And they'll none of 'em be missed--they'll none of 'em be missed! -- W S Gilbert

                   from The Mikado

Background: The singer is the Lord High Executioner; in a speech immediately
preceding the song, he says "If I should ever be called upon to act
professionally, I am happy to think that there will be no difficulty in
finding plenty of people whose loss will be a distinct gain to society at
large."

Glossary:

  piano-organist - A piano organ is similar to a barrel organ, a sort of
  street piano. (Sullivan's mother was a woman of Italian background who met
  her husband while accompanying an organ grinder and his monkey through the
  streets of London. Now aren't you glad you read these program notes?)

  Nisi Prius nuisance - Nisi Prius is a legal term used to refer to cases that
  were tried in the Assize court though technically they should have been
  civil cases. Nisi Prius literally means "unless before," the implication is
  "unless heard before."

     - from <http://members.aol.com/gsvloc/mik_glo1.htm>

This little piece from the Mikado shows Gilbert at his satirical best, as he
skewers, with pinpoint accuracy, the 'society offenders who might well be
underground, and who never will be missed'. If you get a chance, do listen
to the opera - the music's lovely too. (For those of you with decent
soundcards, see below)

Assessment:

  The most popular Gilbert and Sullivan opera, and arguably the most popular
  opera ever written. This opera has delighted audiences for more than a
  century, and spawned a number of imitations. But none were nearly as good
  as the original, which represented both Gilbert and Sullivan at the height
  of their creative geniuses.
      -- from <[broken link] http://diamond.idbsu.edu/gas/mikado/html/mikado.html>

I couldn't have put it better myself - the Mikado is a truly mindblowing
piece of work.

Biography etc: see poem #88

Music: <[broken link] http://diamond.idbsu.edu/gas/mikado/html/mikado_midi.html>

And, of course the inevitable parody site,
<[broken link] http://www.ology.org/eschat/parody/>

m.

The Major General's Song -- W S Gilbert

(Poem #88) The Major General's Song SONG--MAJOR-GENERAL I am the very model of a modern Major-General, I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral, I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical; I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical, I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical, About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news, With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse. ALL: With many cheerful facts, etc. GENERAL: I'm very good at integral and differential calculus; I know the scientific names of beings animalculous: In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern Major-General. ALL: In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, He is the very model of a modern Major-General. GENERAL: I know our mythic history, King Arthur's and Sir Caradoc's; I answer hard acrostics, I've a pretty taste for paradox, I quote in elegiacs all the crimes of Heliogabalus, In conics I can floor peculiarities parabolous; I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies, I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of Aristophanes! Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore, And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore. ALL: And whistle all the airs, etc. GENERAL: Then I can write a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform, And tell you ev'ry detail of Caractacus's uniform: In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern Major-General. ALL: In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, He is the very model of a modern Major-General. GENERAL: In fact, when I know what is meant by "mamelon" and "ravelin", When I can tell at sight a Mauser rifle from a javelin, When such affairs as sorties and surprises I'm more wary at, And when I know precisely what is meant by "commissariat", When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern gunnery, When I know more of tactics than a novice in a nunnery -- In short, when I've a smattering of elemental strategy, You'll say a better Major-General has never sat a gee. ALL: You'll say a better Major-General, etc. GENERAL: For my military knowledge, though I'm plucky and adventury, Has only been brought down to the beginning of the century; But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, I am the very model of a modern Major-General. ALL: But still, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral, He is the very model of a modern Major-General. -- W S Gilbert

                   from 'The Pirates of Penzance'

Gilbert is beyond a doubt one of the greatest lyricists the language has
produced to date. Of course his lyrics need Sullivan's accompanying music
for their full effect, but even alone they are outstanding examples of pure
comic verse. What I especially love about Gilbert is his scrupulous
attention to perfect form, and his unhesitating forays into some remarkably
complicated and innovative metres and rhyme-schemes. Not to mention his
predilection for triple-rhmyes, an increasingly rare commodity (as are rhymes
in general, for that matter <g>).

The song above is one of his most famous, and certainly his most parodied -
again, the utterly distinctive rhmyes and metre draw imitators like a
magnet. Sadly, few of them get it right - perfect triple-rhymes are hard to
achieve, and most parodists take the easy way out, resorting to single
rhymes, assonance, eye rhymes and suchlike. And, of course, a large and
increasing number of them are from the modern school, to whom scansion is an
eight letter word beginning with s. <g>

There's a parody archive at <http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~valkyrie/parody/>, my
undoubted favourite being <http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~valkyrie/parody/xena.html>
Tom Lehrer did not precisely a parody, but a song to the same tune - The
Elements - see <[broken link] http://www.geocities.com/Vienna/5758/school.htm#elements>

m.

Biographical Notes:

WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT

(1836 - 1911)

  William Schwenck Gilbert, born in London in 1836, was the son of a retired
  naval surgeon. Except for a kidnapping by Italian brigands in Italy at age
  two, and a ransomed release, he appears to have had a very normal
  upbringing. Beyond ordinary schooling, he took training as an artillery
  officer and was tutored in military science with hopes of participating in
  the Crimean War. Unfortunately for him, but not for us, he did not
  graduate until after the War was over. Gilbert subsequently joined the
  militia and was a member for 20 years.

  After finishing his military training Gilbert worked in a government
  bureau job which he hated. Upon receiving a nice inheritance from an aunt,
  Gilbert indulged his fancy and became a barrister. Called to the bar at
  age 28, Gilbert's law career, with no "rich attorney's elderly, ugly
  daughter" to help him escape mediocrity, lasted just a few years. Before
  leaving his law practice, however, he married the daughter of an army
  officer.

  Gilbert had shown a proclivity for caustic wit and sarcasm from an early
  age and it was this talent that put him on the path to greatness.
  Beginning in 1861, Gilbert contributed dramatic criticism and humorous
  verse (unsigned) to the popular British magazine FUN. Some of his work was
  accompanied by cartoons and sketches which were signed "Bab." Many of the
  characters in the G&S operas were modelled after some of Gilbert's "Bab"
  characters. A collection of these Bab Ballads was later published in 1869.

  The period from 1868 to 1875 was a very fruitful period for Gilbert,
  primarily because two plays which he wrote in 1871 netted him huge
  financial rewards. This was also the year that he collaborated briefly
  with a composer named Sullivan on a production entitled Thespis which did
  not bring the duo any notoriety. Their collaboration, however, spanned
  twenty-five years and produced a total of fourteen comic operas of which
  The Grand Duke, the last in the order, premiered in 1896.

  Gilbert was knighted by Edward VII in 1907 and died in 1911, at age 74,
  while attempting to save a drowning woman.

  For a longer version, see <[broken link] http://diamond.idbsu.edu/gas/html/gilbert_1.html>

Criticism:

  Gilbert was extremely adept in the difficult art of three-syllable rhyming,
  an art which seems to be almost completely lost today. Most pastiches of the
  Major-General's song make this distressingly clear. Now in the first line of
  this song Gilbert rhymes "Gineral" with "mineral". In both words the
  accented syllable is the first, so Gilbert is forced to find two words
  ending with "-ineral". For this reason Gilbert has to mis-spell "General",
  which is much more difficult to rhyme. (If I remember correctly, in a piece
  of discarded material for Pirates he rhymes "General" with "ten or all",
  which almost works as a rhyme, but is a bit of a strain.)

  So now we see why the Major-General is forced to the horrible rhyme
  "strategy/sat a gee". "Sat a gee" is nonsense, of course: "sat on a gee-gee"
  would at least be grammatical, though that wouldn't work even as a strained
  rhyme. But what else rhymes with "strategy"? We are looking for another
  word, remember, which ends "-ategy". The only word I can suggest is the
  Indian name "Chatterjee".

  Of course, the flexibility of English pronunciation means that a word
  seeming to require a three-syllable rhyme can be made to require a
  one-syllable rhyme without much strain - thus Samuel's couplet:

    We'd better pause, or danger may befall,
    Their father is a Major-General.

  But the Major-General's song is written in a scheme which commits Gilbert to
  three-syllable rhymes, and he is forced to obey his own rules scrupulously.
  I wouldn't mention the requirement that all rhymes in a set lyrical scheme
  should have the same number of syllables, but Richard Suart's rewrite of
  "Small titles and orders" in the 1997 Proms Gondoliers perpetrated
  "lottery/mockery" where two-syllable rhymes were required. (Even as a
  three-syllable rhyme it doesn't work.)

          -- From <http://www.users.globalnet.co.uk/~ajcrowth/metre.htm>

  Gilbert began to write in an age of rhymed couplets, puns, and travesty;
  his early work exhibits the facetiousness common to writers of
  extravaganza. But he turned away from this style and developed a genuinely
  artful style burlesquing contemporary behaviour. Many of his original
  targets are no longer topical--Pre-Raphaelite aesthetes in Patience;
  women's education (Princess Ida); Victorian plays about Cornish pirates
  (The Pirates of Penzance); the long theatrical vogue of the "jolly jack
  tar" (H.M.S. Pinafore); bombastic melodrama (Ruddigore)--but Gilbert's
  burlesque is so good that it creates its own truth. As a librettist,
  Gilbert is outstanding not only because of his gift for handling words and
  casting them in musical shapes but also because through his words he
  offered the composer opportunities for burlesquing musical conventions.

          -- EB