posed a "musical parody" entitled Ruddy George, which was produced at Toole's Theatre. Much talent for mimicry was displayed by the principal performers, and especially by Mr. E. D. Ward, as Robin Redbreast (after George Grossmith) and Mr. Skelton, as Sir Gaspard, in a droll imitation of Rutland Barrington's portentious manner. The burlesque was, however, most successful in so far as it caricatured the idiosyncracies and eccentricities of Sir Arthur Sullivan's music. In imitation of the scene in Act II. of the original, where the portraits of Sir Ruthven's forefathers descend from their frames, kitcat panel likenesses of Mr. Gilbert, Sir Arthur Sullivan, and Mr. D'Oyly Carte suddenly become endowed with life, and utter some mild, and rather pointless jests. :0: Ko-KO ON "THE COW AND THREE ACRES." (The Mikado.) THE Rads all the yokels to gain, tra la ! Gave promise of land and a cow. They argued, "They're all half-insane, tra la ! "Majority we shall obtain, tra la ! By the help of the sons of the plough.' And that's what they meant, as you'll quite understand, They've voted for them, and so now, tra la ! The Sporting Times. 1886. :0: ODE TO A LONDON FOG. ROLL on, thick haze, roll on! Through each familiar way Roll on ! What though I must go out to-day? Roll on! Roll on, thick haze, roll on ! Through street and square and lane Roll on! It's true I cough and cough again; It's true I gasp and puff and blow; It's true my trip may lay me lowBut that's not your affair, you know. Never you mind! Roll on ! Funny Folks Annual. 1885. 0: A small volume has recently been published by Messrs. Chatto and Windus (London), entitled Mr. Gilbert's Original Comic Operas, it contains The Sorcerer, H. M. S. Pinafore, The Pirates of Penzarce, Iolanthe, Patience, Princess Ida, A jocular guide to the Edinburgh Exhibition of 1886 was compiled by Mr. George Stronach, and published by Robert Mitchell, of Edinburgh. It was entitled "Our Own-eries; or, The Show in the Meadows; a dog-gerel cat-alogue," and was profusely and humourously illustrated. It contained several amusing parodies on The Mikado, and one on Tennyson's Brook, but as they related only to the Exhibition they were of purely local interest, and are now out of date. In The Bab Ballads, which originally appeared in Fun (London), may be found the germs of several of Mr. Gilbert's plays and operas, sketches of plots afterwards amplified, and snatches of song which were, later on, to be linked to Arthur Sullivan's music, and so made famous. The following, which appeared in Fun twenty years ago, contains part of the plot of H. M. S. Pinafore :— JOE GOLIGHTLY; Long, shambling, and unsightly, He bore a workhouse brand, The Board of Guardians named him, P'raps some princess's son A beggar p'raps his mother! He liked his ship at sea, He loved the salt sea-water; He worshipped junk, and he Adored the First Lord's daughter. The First Lord's daughter proud, Snubbed earls and viscounts nightlyShe sneered at barts aloud, And spurned poor Joe Golightly. Whene'er he sailed afar Upon a Channel cruise, he Unpacked his light guitar And sang this ballad (Boosey). Ballad. The moon is on the sea, Willow! The wind blows towards the lee, But though I sigh and sob and cry, Willow! She says, "Twere folly quite, Willow! His skipper (Captain Joyce) And almost lost his voice From thus expostulating : "Lay out, you lubber, do! What's come to that young man, Jʊe? Belay!-'vast heaving! you! Do kindly stop that banjo!" "I wish, I do-oh, lor! You'd shipped aboard a trader : Are you a sailor, or A negro serenader?" But still the stricken cad, Aloft or on his pillow, Howled forth in accents sad Stern love of duty had Been Joyce's chiefest beauty- But duty, damme! duty!" Five hundred thousand lashes!" But Joseph had a mate. A sailor stout and lusty, A man of low estate, But singularly trusty. Says he, "Cheer hup, young Joe! To that Fust Lord I'll go And ax him for his darter. Fun. "He loves Miss Lady Jane (I own she is his betters), But if you'll jine them twain, They'll free him from his fetters. "And if so be as how You'll let her come a-boardship, I'll take her with me now" "Get out!" remarked his Lordship. That honest tar repaired To Joe upon the billow, And told him how he'd fared: Joe only whispered, "Willow!" And for that dreadful crime (Young sailors learn to shun it) He's working out his time: In ten years he'll have done it. October 12, 1867. The Bib Ballads have been often imitated (it is scarcely possible to parody them successfully), but the imitations are for the most part very inferior to the originals, besides which they are generally very long, so that only a few examples can be quoted. The three following appeared in a prize competition in The World, the subject selected by the editor being : KING THEEBAW OF BURMAH, FIRST PRIZE. (Model: "Sir Guy the Crusader.") To put foreign armies to flight he John Bull was his special objection, Not a single celestial connection, To the court of Theebaw To remonstrate-O cheek past endurance !- Says Theebaw, "Shall this prig of a Briton Such a want of respect ! When I've got a man-torturing fit on? It's hard lines if my fun be thus checked!" So he tried of that prying external Having scared him to death; but a colonel Now Theebaw, it is right here to mention, On the subject of shoes; At an afternoon call their retention The colonel thought this very cruel, Put his feet in hot water, supped gruel, Thus exposed to catarrh, With a colonel you shall not be trusted." So St. Barbe was left there to be worried, In a manner less pleasant than hurried; So Theebaw was alone in his glory. In the deep Irrawaddy, And then, as an end to the story, He finished himself with rum-toddy. SECOND PRIZE. The Tale of King Theebaw. ODD FISH. THEEBAW was the King of the golden toe, "I'm tired of my dozens of uncles and cousins; I'll polish off all the sons of my pa, But smother my nieces, and cut into pieces "No, really you mustn't, august Theebaw," "Pray think of it twice, for it wouldn't be nice, You exceedingly naughty boy!" 60 'Tis plainly my duty to warn you that weThough we'd rather not say, 'You shan't!'Shouldn't like it at all, if you cut up quite small Your grandmother's aged aunt." Then up rose the King of the golden toe, Now listen, you ugly preposterous man, I'll make you regret that you got in a pet, I'll cut every one of my brothers in half; O yes, you may threaten; I don't care a d— For am I not King of the golden toe, And I laugh in my sleeve, for I'm led to believe The April number of Macmillan's Magazine contained the Poet Laureate's contribution to Jubilee literature. As usual, portions of the Ode were quoted in the Lordon papers almost before the magazine was published, and The Daily News went so far as to reprint the whole of the Ode, an infringement of Messrs. Macmillan's rights, for which an apology had to be made. As to the poetical merits of the Ode public opinion has been tolerably well expressed by the parodies on it which have appeared. A few verses of the original are here given, to lead up to the parodies. CARMEN SECULARE. AN ODE IN HONOUR OF Ghq Jubilee of Queen Victoria. I. FIFTY times the rose has flower'd and faded, Since our Queen assumed the globe, the sceptre. II. She beloved for a kindliness Rare in Fable or History, Queen, and Empress of India, Crown'd so long with a diadem VI. You, that wanton in affluence, Spare not now to be bountiful, Let the maim'd in his heart rejoice VIII. You, the Patriot Architect, Rich in symbol, in ornament, Which may speak to the centuries, All the centuries after us, Of this year of her Jubilee. IX. Fifty years of ever-broadening Commerce! Fifty years of ever-brightening Science ! Fifty years of ever-widening Empire! X. You, the Mighty, the Fortunate, You, the Lord-territorial, You, the Lord-manufacturer, You, the hardy, laborious, Patient children of Albion, All your hearts be in harmony, All your voices in unison, Singing "Hail to the glorious XI. Are there thunders moaning in the distance? Are there spectres moving in the darkness? Trust the Lord of Light to guide her people. Till the thunders pass, the spectres vanish, And the Light is Victor, and the darkness Dawns into the Jubilee of the Ages. The Globe remarked : "It is to be feared that the Laureate's Jubilee Ode will sadly disappoint all his admirers. It has a certain rhetorical neatness, no doubt; but it cannot be regarded as adequate to the occasion. The poet has chosen, for the most part, very prosaic rhythms, and the Ode, trite and even common in ideas, is not even endowed with occasional felicities of expression, On the contrary, it is sometimes positively unlucky in its phraseology, as when the world is most unnecessarily assured that Her Majesty has about her 'Nothing of the lawless, of the Despot, "By no means happy are the references to those who 'wanton in affluence' (why 'wanton?') to the Lord manufacturers,' and to the Imperial Institute,' which latter surely savours a little of bathos? The six concluding lines have more inspiration, perhaps, than most; but they do not harmonise very well in their allusion to thunders moaning in the distance,' with the Laureate's allusion elsewhere to the 'prosperous auguries' of the Jubilee. On the whole, Lord Rosslyn, Mr. Morris, and Lord Tennyson having all spoken, it must be confessed that the Jubilee still lacks a vales sacer." ANOTHER Ode. FIFTY times the Laureate sharpened his pencil: After Walt Whitman's pattern, Which might speak to the centuries Through the Magazine Macmillan, some 9 A. M.-Bother the Jubilee ! What in the name of fortune, can one do with such a rubbishing subject? But here's Macmillan waiting, and I haven't done a single line yet. Must get something put on to paper, if only to quiet him. But how on earth to begin! Get in "fifty' how. Want fifty somethings that come but once a year. Christmas? Good. That suggests Clown. I have it. Fifty times the Clown has grinned and tumbled. That won't do. It's too shoppy, stagey. Has a soupçon of the Promise of May about it. Wants something Ha! The Row, suggesting the Season, of course, Fifty times the Row has filled and emptied. No, Don't like it. Reads as if I was talking of a cistern. Too heavy. Try something lighter. Pastry? Feathers? Flowers? Ha! that's it. Flowers, of course. Here, I've got it! No. wider |