Classic Audiobook Collection - The Bab Ballads by William S. Gilbert ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]

Starting point is 00:00:00 the babelads by w s gilbert number one captain reese of all the ships upon the blue no ship contained a better crew than that of worthy captain rees commanding of the mantelpiece he was adored by all his men for worthy captain rees our end did all that lay within him too promote the comfort of his crew if ever they were dull or sad their captain danced to them like mad, or told to make the time pass by droll legends of his infancy. A feather bed had every man, warm slippers and hot water can, Brown Windsor from the captain's store, a valet two to every four. Did they with thirst in summer burn, low seltzer jeans at every turn, and on all very sultry days cream isces handed round on trays. Then current wine and ginger pops stood handily on all the tops, and also, with amusement rife, a zoetrope or wheel of life.

Starting point is 00:01:13 New volumes came across the sea from Mr. Muddy's library. The Times and Saturday Review beguiled the leisure of the crew. Kind-hearted Captain R. N. was quite devoted to his men. In point of fact, good Captain Reese beatified the mantelpiece. One summer eve at half-past ten, he said, addressing all his men, Come, tell me please what I can do to please and gratify my crew. By any reasonable plan, I'll make you happy if I can. My own convenience count as nil.

Starting point is 00:01:56 It is my duty, and I will. then up and answered william lee the kindly captain's coxon he a nervous shy low-spoken man he cleared his throat and thus began "'You have a daughter, Captain Reese, ten female cousins and a niece, a mar, if what I'm told is true, six sisters and an aunt or two. Now, somehow, sir, it seems to me, more friendly like we all should be if you united of them to unmarried members of the crew. If you'd ameliorate our life, let each select from them a wife. And as for nervous me, old pal, give me your own enchanting. gal. Good Captain Reese, that worthy man, debated on his coxswain's plan. I quite agree, he said, O Bill, it is my duty, and I will. My daughter, that enchanting

Starting point is 00:02:58 girl, has just been promised to an earl, and all my other family to peers of various degree. But what are dukes and vicars to the happiness of all my crew? The word I gave you, fulfill. It is my duty, and I will. As you desire it shall befall, I'll settle thousands on you all, and I shall be, despite my hoard, the only bachelor on board. The bosom of the mantelpiece, he blushed and spoke to Captain Reese. I beg your honor's leave, he said. If you would wish to go and wed, I have a widowed mother who would be the very thing for you. She long has loved you from afar. She washes for you, Captain R.

Starting point is 00:03:51 The captain saw the dame that day, addressed her in his playful way. And did it want a wedding ring? It was a tempting Ickle sing. Well, well, the chaplain I will seek, We'll all be married this day week at yonder church, upon the hill. It is my duty, and I will. The sisters, cousins, aunts, and niece, and widowed Ma of Captain Reese attended there as they were bid. It was their duty, and they did.

Starting point is 00:04:29 End of Captain Reese from the Bab Ballads. Ballad Number Two of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. the rival curates list while the poet trolls of mr clayton hooper who had a cure of souls that spiffed an extra super he lived on curds and whey and daily sang their praises and then he'd go and play with buttercups and daisies wild croquet hooper band and all the sports of mammon he ward with cribbage and he exorcised back gammon his helmet was a glance that spoke of holy gladness, a saintly smile, his lance, his shield a tear of sadness. His vicar smiled to see this armour on him buckled. With pardonable glee he blessed himself and chuckled. In mildness to abound my curate's sole as Ines, in all the country round there's none so mild as mine is. And Hooper disinclined his trumpet to be blowing, yet didn't think you'd find a milder curate going.

Starting point is 00:05:49 A friend arrived one day at Spifton, next to Super, and in this shameful way he spoke to Mr. Hooper. You think your famous name for mildness can't be shaken, that none can blot your fame, but, Hooper, you're mistaken. Your mind is not as blank as that of Hopley Porter, who holds a curate's rank at ass's milk come water. He plays the airy flute and looks depressed and blighted, doves round about him toot, and Lampkin's dance delighted. He labours more than you at worsted work and frames it, in old maids' albums two sticks seaweed, yes, and names it. the tempter said his say which pierced him like a needle he summoned straight away his sexton and his beadle these men were men who could hold liberal opinions on sundays they were good on week-days they were minions to hopliporter go your fare i will afford you deal him a deadly blow and blessing shall reward you but stay I do not like undue assassination, and so, before you strike, make this communication.

Starting point is 00:07:14 I'll give him this one chance. If he'll more gaily bear him, play croquet, smoke, and dance, I willingly will spare him. They went those minions true to ass's milk, cum-water, and told their errand to the Reverend Hopley-porter. "'What?' said that Reverend Gent. Dance through my hours of leisure, smoke, bathe myself with scent, play croquet, oh, with pleasure. Wear all my hair in curl. Stand at my door and wink, so, at every passing girl. My brothers, I should think so.

Starting point is 00:07:58 For years I've longed for some excuse for this revulsion. Now that excuse has come. I do it on compulsion. He smoked and winked away this reverend Hoplip porter, the deuce there was to pay at Ashes' milk come water. And Hooper holds his ground in mildless daily growing. They think him all around the mildest curate going. End of Ballard No. 2. The rival curates from the Bad Ballards.

Starting point is 00:08:34 This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number three of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. Only a dancing girl. Only a dancing girl with an unromantic style, with borrowed colour and curl, with fixed mechanical smile, with many a hackneyed while, with ungrammatical lips and corns that mar her trips. Hung from the flies in air, she acts a palpable lie. She's as little a fairy there as unpoetical eye. I hear you asking why, why in the world I sing this tawdry, tinseled thing. No airy fair is she as she hangs in arsenic green, from a highly impossible tree in a highly impossible scene, herself not over-clean, for Fays don't suffer, I'm told, from bunions,

Starting point is 00:09:47 coughs, or cold. And stately dames that bring their daughters there to see pronounce the dancing thing, no better than she should be, with her skirt at her shameful knee, and her painted, tainted fizz. Ah, matron, which of us is? And in sooth it oft occurs that while these matrons sigh, their dresses are lower than hers, and sometimes half as high, and their hair is hair they buy,

Starting point is 00:10:24 and they use their glasses too in a way she had blush to do. But change her gold and green, for a coarse merino gown, and see her upon the scene of her home when coaxing down her drunken father's frown in his squalid, cheerless den. She's a fairy, truly, then. End of Ballad Number Three, only a dancing girl from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballad number four of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. General John The bravest names for fire and flames and all that mortal durst were General John and Private James of the 60-70-1.

Starting point is 00:11:25 General John was a soldier tried, a chief of warlike dons, a haughtyststststststststst tried and a withering pride, were major-general john's a sneer would play on his martial fizz superior birth to show pish was a favourite word of his and he often said ho ho full private james described might be as a man of a mournful mind no characteristic tray had he of any distinctive kind from the ranks one day cried private james "'Oh, Major General John, I've doubts of our respective names, my mournful mind upon. A glimmering thought occurs to me, its source I can't unearth, but I've a kind of a notion we were cruelly changed at birth. I've a strange idea that each other's names we've each of us here got on. Such things have been,' said Private James.

Starting point is 00:12:30 "'They have,' sneered General John. "'My General John, I swear upon my oath, I think tis so. "'Pish!' proudly sneered his General John, and he also said, "'Ho, ho!' "'My General John! "'My General John! my General John!' quoth he. "'This aristocratic sneer upon your face I blush to see. "'No truly great or generous cove, deserving of them names,

Starting point is 00:13:00 "'would sneer at a fixed idea that's drove, in the mind of a private James? Said General John, Upon your claims, no need your breath to waste, If this is a joke full, private James, It's a joke of doubtful taste. But being a man of doubtless worth, If you feel certain quite,

Starting point is 00:13:23 That we were probably changed at birth, I'll venture to say, you're right. So General John, as Private James, fell in, parade upon, and Private James, by change of names, was Major General John. End of Ballard Number 4, General John from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballot Number 5 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. To a little maid by a policeman.

Starting point is 00:14:06 with me, little maid. Nay, shrink not thus afraid, I'll harm thee not. Fly not my love from me. I have a home for thee, a fairy grot where mortal eye can rarely pry. There shall thy dwelling be. List to me while I tell the pleasures of that cell, O little maid. What though its couch be rude, homely the only food within its shade. No thought of care can enter there, no vulgar swain intrude. Come with me, little maid, come to the rocky shade I love to sing. Live with us, maiden rare, come, for we want thee there. Thou elfin thing, to work thy spell in some cool cell, instately, peatly, pentonville end of ballad number five to a little maid by a policeman from the bad ballads this recording is in the public domain ballot number six of the bad ballads by w s gilbert read for librivox dot org by graham redman john and freddie john courted lovely mary ann so likewise did his brother freddie fredd was

Starting point is 00:15:39 a very soft young man, while John, though quick, was most unsteady. Fred was a graceful kind of youth, but John was very much the strongest. Oh, dance away, said she, in truth, I'll marry him who dances longest. John tries the maiden's taste to strike with gay, grotesque, outrageous dresses and dances comically like Clodosh and co at the princesses. But Freddy tries another style. He knows some graceful steps and doesum. A breathing poem, woman's smile, a man all poesy and bosom. Now Freddy's operatic par, now Johnny's hornpipe seems entrapping. now Fred is graceful entreshire, now John is skillful cellar-flapping.

Starting point is 00:16:40 For many hours, for many days, for many weeks, performed each brother, for each was active in his ways, and neither would give in to t'other. After a month of this, they say, the maid was getting bored and moody, a wandering curate passed that way and talked a lot of goody-goody. "'Oh, my,' said he with solemn frown, "'I tremble for each dancing freighter, "'like unregenerated clown and harlequin at some theatre. "'He showed that men in dancing do both impiously and absurdly,

Starting point is 00:17:21 "'and proved his proposition true with firstly, secondly, and thirdly. "'For months both John and Freddy danced, the curate's protest little heeding for months the curate's words enhanced the sinfulness of their proceeding at length they bowed to nature's rule their steps grew feeble and unsteady till freddie fainted on a stool and johnny on the top of freddie "'Decide,' quoth they, "'let him be named, who henceforth as his wife may rank you. "'I've changed my views,' the maiden said. "'I only marry curates, thank you.' "'Says Freddy, here is goings on. "'To bust myself with rage I'm ready.'

Starting point is 00:18:16 "'I'll be a curate,' whispers John. "'And I!' exclaimed Poet. Freddy. But while they read for it, these chaps, the curate booked the maiden bonny. And when she's buried him, perhaps she'll marry Frederick, or Johnny. End of Ballard number six, John and Freddy, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. by Graham Redmond. Sir Guy the Crusader. Sir Guy was a doughty crusader,

Starting point is 00:19:06 a muscular knight, ever ready to fight, a very determined invader, and Dickie de Leon's delight. Lenore was a Saracen maiden, brunette, statuess, the reverse of grotesque, her par was a bagman from Aden, her mother she played in Berlesque.

Starting point is 00:19:26 A corifé, pretty and loyal, in amber and red the ballet she led. Her mother performed at the royal, Lenore at the Saracen's head. Of face and of figure majestic, she dazzled the sits, ecstatized pits. Her troubles were only domestic, but drove her half out of her wits. Her father incessantly lashed her. On water and bread she was grudgingly fed. Whenever her father he thrashed her, Her mother sat down on her head. Guy saw her and loved her with reason, for beauty so bright sent him mad with delight.

Starting point is 00:20:08 He purchased a stall for the season and sat in it every night. His views were exceedingly proper. He wanted to wed, so he called at her shed, and saw her progenitor whoop her, her mother sit down on her head. So pretty, said he, and, and, said he. "'You brute of her dad, you unprincipled cad, "'your conduct is really disgusting. "'Come, come, come, now admit it's too bad.

Starting point is 00:20:38 "'You're a turbaned old Turk and malignant. "'Your daughter, Lenore, I intensely adore, "'and I cannot help feeling indignant, "'a fact that I hinted before. "'To see a fond father employing "'a deuce of a knout for to bang her about "'to a sensitive lover's annoying,' said the bagman. "'Crusada, get out.

Starting point is 00:20:58 "'Says, Guy, shall a warrior laden with a big spiky knob sit in peace on his cob, "'while a beautiful Saracen maiden is whipped by a Saracen's knob? "'To London I'll go from my charmer, which he did with his loot, "'seven hats and a flute, and was nabbed for his sydnum armour at Mr. Ben Samuel's suit. "'Sir Guy, he was lodged in the Comptor. "'Her par, inner rage, died. "'Don't know his age. His daughter? She married the prompter, grew bulky, and quitted the stage.

Starting point is 00:21:37 End of Ballad No. 7, Sir Guy the Crusader from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballot Number 8 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert. Read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. Haunted. Haunted. I, in a social way, by a body of ghosts in dread array, but no conventional spectres, they, appalling, grim and tricky. I quail at mine as I'd never quail at a fine traditional spectre pale, with a turnip-head and a ghostly wail, and a splash of blood on the dicky. Mine are horrible social ghosts, speeches and women and guests and hosts, weddings and morning calls and toasts in every bad variety.

Starting point is 00:22:36 Ghosts who hover about the grave of all that's manly, free and brave, you'll find their names on the architrave of that charnel-house society. Black Monday, black as its schoolroom ink, with its dismal boys that snivel and think of its nauseous messes to eat and drink and its frozen tank to wash in. That was the first that brought me grief, and made me weep till I sought relief in an emblematical handkerchief to choke such baby Bosch in.

Starting point is 00:23:13 First and worst in the grim array, ghosts of ghosts that have gone their way, which I wouldn't revive for a single day, for all the wealth of Plutus, are the horrible ghosts that school days, scared. If the classical ghost that Brutus dared was the ghost of his Caesar unprepared, I'm sure I pity Brutus. I passed to Critical Seventeen, the ghost of that terrible wedding scene when an elderly colonel stole my queen and woke my dream of heaven. No schoolgirl decked

Starting point is 00:23:52 in her nurse-room girls was my gushing, innocent queen of pearls. If she wasn't a girl, she wasn't a girl of a thousand girls, she was one of forty-seven. I see the ghost of my first cigar, of the thence arising family jar, of my maiden brief. I was at the bar, and I called the judge a wash-up of reckless days and reckless nights, with wrenched-off knockers, extinguished lights, unholy songs and tipsy fights, which I strove in vain to hush up. ghosts of fraudulent joint-stock banks ghosts of copy declined with thanks of novels returned in endless ranks and thousands more i suffer the only line to fitly grace my humble tomb when i've run my race is reader this is the resting-place of an unsuccessful duffer i've fought them all these ghosts of mine, but the weapons I've used are size and brine, and now that I'm nearly forty-nine, old age is my

Starting point is 00:25:06 chiefest bogey, for my hair is thinning away at the crown, and the silver fights with the worn-out brown, and a general verdict sets me down as an irreclamable fogey. End of ballot number eight, Haunted, from the Babelads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 9 of the Bab Ballards by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redman. The Bishop and the Busman. It was a Bishop bold, and London was his sea. He was short and stout, and roundabout, and zealous as could be. It also was a Jew who drove a Putney Bus. For flesh of swine, however fine, he did not care again. Cuss. His name was Hash-Baz-Ben, and Jedediah too, and Solomon and Zambulon, this bus directing Jew.

Starting point is 00:26:16 The bishop said, said he, I'll see what I can do to Christian eyes and make you wise, you poor benighted Jew. So every blessed day that bus he rode outside, from Fulham town, both up and down, and loudly thus he cried, His name is Hash-Bas-Ben, and Jedediah too, and Solomon and Zebulon, this bus directing Jew. At first the busman smiled, and rather liked the fun. He merely smiled, that Hebrew child, and said, eccentric one. And gay young dogs would wait to see the bus go by.

Starting point is 00:27:02 These gay young dogs in striking dogs, to hear the bishop cry. Observe his grisly beard. His race it clearly shows. He sticks no fork in ham or pork. Observe, my friends, his nose. His name is Hash-Baz-Ben and Jedediah too, and Solomon and Zabulon, this bus directing Jew.

Starting point is 00:27:31 But though at first amused, yet after seven years, years this Hebrew child got rather riled and melted into tears. He really almost feared to leave his poor abode. His nose and name and beard became a byword on that road. At length he swore an oath the reason he would know. I'll call and see, whenever he does persecute me so. The good old bishop sat on his ancestral chair, The busman came, sent up his name, and laid his grievance bare. Benighted Jew, he said, the good old bishop did. Be Christian you, instead of Jew. Become a Christian kid.

Starting point is 00:28:23 I'll ne'er annoy you more. Indeed, replied the Jew, shall I be freed? You will, indeed. Then done, said he, with you. the organ which in man between the eyebrows grows fell from his face and in its place he found a christian nose his tangled hebrew beard which to his waist came down was now a pair of whiskers fair his name adolphus browne he wedded in a year that prelitt's daughter jane he's grown quite fair has Auburn Hare. His wife is far from plain. End of ballad number nine, the bishop and the busman from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number ten of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert,

Starting point is 00:29:30 Redford Librevox.org by Graham Redman. The Trubador. A troubadour he played without a castle wall Within a hapless maid responded to his call. O Willow, woe is me, alack and well a day. If I were only free, I'd hie me far away. Unknown her face and name, But this he knew right well, The maiden's wailing came from out a dungeon cell. A hapless woman lay within that dungeon grid,

Starting point is 00:30:11 him that fact I've heard him say was quite enough for him I will not sit or lie or eat or drink I bow till thou art free as I or I as pent as thou her tears then ceased to flow her wails no longer rang and tuneful in her woe the prisoned maiden sang "'Oh, stranger, as you play, I recognise your touch, and all that I can say is, thank you very much.' He seized his clarion straight, and blew thereat until a warden oaked the gate. "'Oh, what might be your will? I've come, sir knave, to see the master of these halls. A maid unwillingly lies prisoned in their walls. with barely stifled sigh that porter drooped his head with tear-drops in his eye amene sir he said

Starting point is 00:31:18 he stayed to hear no more but pushed that porter by and shortly stood before sir hugh de peckham rye sir hugh he darkly frowned what would you sir with me the troubadour he downed upon his bended knee i've come de peckham rye to do a christian task you ask me what would i it is not much i ask release these maidens sir whom you dominion oar particularly her upon the second floor and if you don't my lord he here stood bolt uproar and tapped a tailor's sword. Come out, you cad and fight. Sir Hugh, he called and ran the warden from the gate. Go show this gentleman the maid in 48. By many a cell they passed and stopped at length before a portal bolted fast.

Starting point is 00:32:29 The man unlocked the door. He called inside the gate. with coarse and brutal shout. Come step it, 48! And 48 stepped out. They gets it pretty hot, the maidens, what we cotch. Two years this lady's got for collaring a watch. Oh, ah, indeed, I see, the troubadour exclaimed.

Starting point is 00:32:58 If I may make so free, how is this castle named? The warden's eyelids fill, and sighing, he replied, Of gloomy Pentonville, this is the female sighed. The minstrel did not wait, the warden stout, to thank, But recollected straight, hid business at the bank. End of Ballard No. 10, the Trubador, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 11 of the Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman.

Starting point is 00:33:43 Ferdinando and Elvira, or The Gentle Pymann. Part 1 At a pleasant evening party I had taken down to supper, one whom I will call Elvira, and we talked of love and Tupper. Mr. Tupper and the poets very lightly with them dealing, for I've always been distinguished for a strong poetic feeling. Then we let off paper crackers, each of which contained a motto, and she listened while I read them, till her mother told her not to. Then she whispered, to the ballroom we had better, dear, be walking. If we stopped down here much longer, really, people will be talking. There were noblemen in coronets and military cousins. There were captains by the

Starting point is 00:34:30 hundred. There were baronets by dozens. Yet she, he did not. not their offers, but dismissed them with a blessing. Then she let down all her back hair, which had taken long in dressing. Then she had convulsive sobbing's in her agitated throttle. Then she wiped her pretty eyes and smelled her pretty smelling bottle. So I whispered, Dear Elvira say, what can the matter be with you? Does anything you've eaten, darling Popsie, disagree with you?

Starting point is 00:35:01 But spite of all I said, her sobs, grew more and more distressing, and she tore her pretty back hair, which had taken long in dressing. Then she gazed upon the carpet at the ceiling, then above me, and she whispered, Ferdinando, do you really, really love me? Love you, said I, then I sighed, and then I gazed upon her sweetly, for I think I do this sort of thing particularly neatly. Send me to the Arctic regions, or illimitable Asia, on a scientific goose-chase with my coxwell or my glacier tell me whither i may hie me tell me dear one that i may know is it up the highest andes down a horrible volcano but she said it isn't polar bears or hot volcanic grottoes only find out who it is that writes those lovely cracker mottoes part two tell me henry wadsworth alfred close or poet close or

Starting point is 00:36:07 Mr. Tupper, do you write the bonbon mottoes my Elvira pulls at supper? But Henry Wadsworth smiled and said he had not had that honour, and Alfred too disclaimed the words that told so much upon her. Mr. Martin Tupper, poet Close, I beg of you inform us. But my question seemed to throw them both into a rage enormous. Mr. Close expressed a wish that he could only get an eye to me, and Mr. Martin Tupper sent following reply to me. A fool is bent upon a twig, but wise men dread a bandit, which I know was very clever, but I didn't understand it. Seven weary years I wandered, Patagonia, China, Norway,

Starting point is 00:36:53 till at last I sank exhausted at a pastry-cook his doorway. There were fuchsia's and uraniums and daffodils and myrtle, so I entered and I ordered half a basin of Mock Turtle. He was was plump and he was chubby, he was smooth, and he was rosy, and his little wife was pretty and particularly cosy. And he chirped and sang and skipped about, and laughed with laughter hearty. He was wonderfully active for so very stout a party. And I said, "'Oh, gentle Pymann, why so very, very merry, is it purity of conscience, or your one and seven sherry?' but he answered i am so happy no profession could be dearer if i am not humming tra-l-la-la i'm singing teera lera first i go and make the patties and the puddings and the jellies then i make a sugar-bird-cage which upon a table swell is then i polish all the silver which are supper-table lacquers then i write the pretty mottoes which you find inside the crackers found at last i madly shouted gentle pie

Starting point is 00:38:05 and you astound me. Then I waved the turtle's soup enthusiastically around me, and I shouted and I danced until hit quite a crowd around him, and I rushed away, exclaiming, I have found him, I have found him. And I heard the gentle pieman in the road behind me trilling, Tira! Stop him, stop him, tra-l-l-la, the soup's a shilling.

Starting point is 00:38:29 But until I reached Elvira's home, I never, never waited, and Elvira to her Ferdinands irrevocably mated. End of Ballard number 11, Ferdinando and Elvira, or the Gentle Pymann, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 12 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redmond. Lorenzo Delardi. Delilah Dadardi adored the very very good. correctest of cards.

Starting point is 00:39:09 Lorenzo Delardi, a lord. He was one of Her Majesty's guards. Delilah Daddi was fat. Delilah Daddi was old. No doubt in the world about that. But Delilah Dadi had gold. Lorenzo Delardi was tall, the flower of maidenly pets. Young ladies would love at his call.

Starting point is 00:39:32 But Lorenzo Delardi had debts. His money position was queer. and one of his favorite freaks was to hide himself three times a year in Paris for several weeks. Many days didn't pass him before he fanned himself into a flame for a beautiful damned eucontoir, and this was her singular name. Alice Yulali Coralline, Euphrosine Colombina-Teres, Juliette, Stephanie Celestine, Charlotte Rousse de la Sos-Meonets. She booked all the orders and tinge. a cooted in showy fallow at a two-fifty restaurant in the glittering Palais Royal. He had gazed in her

Starting point is 00:40:16 orbit of blue, her hand he would tenderly squeeze, but the words of her tongue that he knew were limited strictly to these. Coraline, Celestine, Yulali, whopla, I've you love, yesu, come bien, don't me, au jour d'jou, bonjourne me, jean, mademoiselle, parley. Mammoiselle de la sauce mayonnaise was a witty and beautiful miss, extremely correct in her ways, but her English consisted of this, Oh my pretty man, if you please, Blombudin, beef-tech, curry lamb, bulldog, two franc half, quites a cheese, Ros beef, me speak English, goddamn. Here gaze in her eyes all the day, admiring their spark of,

Starting point is 00:41:07 and dance, and lest while she rattled away in the musical accents of France. A waiter, for seasons before, had basked in her beautiful gaze, and burnt to dismember, Melor, he loved de la sauce mayonnaise. He said to her, Mechante, Therese, "'Aveque de esprit tu macabble, "'Pence do de la sauce mayonnaise?' "'Says inton chance are honoured.

Starting point is 00:41:37 "'Flutee to-jone-bell, if you owes, "'I me vengered, my cher. "'I'llie de'erre de what l'em-compose, "'volvent at la financier.' "'Lord Lardie knew nothing of this. "'The waiter's devotion ignored, "'but he gazed on the beautiful miss "'and never seemed weary or bored.

Starting point is 00:42:02 "'The waiter would screw up his nerve, "'his fingers he'd snap and hit dance. and lord lardy would smile and observe how strange are the customs of france well after delaying a space his tradesman no longer would wait returning to england apace he yielded himself to his fate lord lardy espoused with a groan miss dardy's developing charms and agreed to tag on to his own her name and her newly-found arms the waiter He knelt at the toes of an ugly and thin Corifé, who danced in the hindermost rows at the Theatre de Variette. Mademoiselle de la sauce mayonnaise didn't yield to a gnawing despair, but married a soldier, and plays as a pretty and pert vivandier.

Starting point is 00:42:59 End of Ballad No. 12, Lorenzo Delardi, from the Babelads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 13 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert Read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. Disillusioned by an ex-enthusiast. Oh, that my soul, its gods could see, as years ago they seemed to me when first I painted them. Invested with the circumstance of old conventional romance, exploded theorem. the bard who could all men above inflame my soul with songs of love and with his verse inspire the craven soul who feared to die with all the glow of chivalry and old heroic fire

Starting point is 00:43:58 i found him in a beer-house tap awaking from a gin-born nap with pipe and sloven dress amusing chums who fooled his bent with muddy mordland sentiment with muddy mordland sentiment and tipsy foolishness the novelist whose painting pen to legions of fictitious men a real existence lens brain people whom we rarely fail when'er we hear their names to hail as old and welcome friends i found in clumsy snuffy's suit in seedy glove and blue her boot uncomfortably big particularly commonplace with vulgar coarse stock broken face, and spectacles and wig. My favourite actor, who at will with mimic woe, my eyes could fill with unaccustomed brine, a being who appeared to me, before I knew him well, to be a song in Carnadine, I found a coarse, unpleasant man, with speckled chin, unhealthy, wan, of self-importance full, existing in an atmosphere that reeked of gin and pipes and beer, conceited, fractious, dull.

Starting point is 00:45:19 The warrior whose ennobled name is woven with his country's fame, triumphant over all, I found weak, palsied, bloated, blear, his province seemed to be to leer at bonnets in Palmael. Would that she all were shone, who right, bathed, in your own innate limelight and ye who battles wage, or that in darkness I had died before my soul had ever sighed to see you off the stage. End of ballard number 13, disillusioned by an ex-enthusiast from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 14 of the Bab ballads by W. S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redmond. Babette's love.

Starting point is 00:46:18 Babette, she was a fisher gal with jupon striped and cap in crimps. She passed her days inside the howl, or catching little nimble shrimps. Yet she was sweet as flowers in May with no professional bouquet. Jaco was of the customs bold an officer at Gay Bologna. He loved Babette, his love he told, and sighed, O, Swaye you my own. But, no, said she, Jacques-O, my pet,

Starting point is 00:46:52 Vuzet tro-straggy, poor Babette. Of one alone I nightly dream, An able mariner is he, And gaily serves the general steam, Boat navigation company. I'll marry him if he but will. His name I rather think is Bill. I see him when he's not aware upon our hospitable coast, reclining with an easy air upon the port against a post, thinking of, I'll dare to say, his native Chelsea far away.

Starting point is 00:47:25 Oment, exclaimed the customs bold, mesieu, he said, which means my eye. Oh, cher, he also cried, I'm told, par jove, he added with a sigh. O man, oh, cher, my sieur, panchev, mez, je neme not this enticing cove. The panther's captain stood hard by. He was a man of moral strict. If ere a sailor winked his eye, straightway he had that sailor licked. Must-headed all, such was his code, who dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed. He wept to think a tar of his should lean so gracefully on posts, he sighed and sobbed to think of this, on foreign French and friendly coasts. It's human nature, perhaps, if so, oh, isn't human nature low?

Starting point is 00:48:22 He called his bill, who pulled his curl. He said, My bill, I understand you've captivated some young girl on this here French and foreign land. A tender heart, your beauty's jog. They do, you know they do, you dog. You have a a graceful way I learn of leaning airily on posts, by which you've been and cause to burn a tender flame on these here coasts, a fisher girl, I much regret, her age sixteen, her name, Babbett. You'll marry her, you gentle tar, your union I myself will bless, and when you matrimonid are I will appoint her stewardess. But William hitched himself and sighed, and cleared his throat and thus replied,

Starting point is 00:49:11 Not so. Unless you're fond of strife, you'd better mind your own affairs. I have an able-bodied wife awaiting me at whopping stairs. If all this here to her I tell, she'll larip you, and me as well. Skin deep and valued at a pin is beauty such as Venus owns. Her beauty is beneath her skin and lies in layers on her bones. the other sailors of the crew they always calls her whopping sue. Oh, ho, the captain said, I see, and is she then so very strong? She'd take your honour, struff, said he, and pitch you over to belong.

Starting point is 00:49:55 I pardon you, the captain said, the fair bet you needn't wed. Perhaps the customs had his will and coaxed the scornful girl to wed. Perhaps the captain and his Bill and William's little wife are dead. Or perhaps they're all alive and well. I cannot, cannot, cannot tell. End of Ballad number 14, Babette's Love, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballad No. 15 of the Bab Ballads by W. S. Gilbert.

Starting point is 00:50:35 Read for Librevox.org by Graham Redman. to my bride whoever she may be oh little maid i do not know your name or who you are so as a safe precaution i'll add o buxom widow married dame as one of these must be your present portion listen while i unveil prophetic law for you and sing the fate that fortune has in store for you you'll marry soon within a year or twain a bachelor of circa two and thirty. Tall, gentlemanly, but extremely plain, and when you're intimate, you'll call him Bertie. Neat, dresses well, his temper has been classified as hasty, but he's very quickly pacified. You'll find him working mildly at the bar, after a touch at two or three professions, from easy affluence extremely far, a brief or two on circuit, soup at sessions, a pound or two from whist and backing horses, and say three hundred from his own resources.

Starting point is 00:51:50 Quiet in harness, free from serious vice, his faults are not particularly shady. You'll never find him shy, for once or twice already he's been driven by a lady, who parts with him, perhaps a poor excuse for him, because she hasn't any further use for him. "'Oh, bride of mine! Tall, dumpy, dark, or fair, oh widow, wife may be, or blushing maiden, I've told your fortune, solved the gravest care with which your mind has hitherto been laden. I've prophesied correctly, never doubt it. Now tell me mine, and please be quick about it. You, only you, can tell me, and you will, to whom I'm destined shortly to be mated. Will she run up a heavy Maudyce's bill?

Starting point is 00:52:45 If so, I want to hear her income stated, this is a point which interests me greatly. To quote the bard, Oh, have I seen her lately? Say, must I wait till husband number one is comfortably stowed away at Woking? how is her hair most usually done and tell me please will she object to smoking the colour of her eyes too you may mention come sybil prophesy i'm all attention end of ballad number fifteen to my bride whoever she may be from the bab ballads this recording is in the public domain ballad number sixteen of the bab ballads by w s gilbert read for librivox dot org by graham redman the folly of brown by a general agent i knew a boar a clownish card his only friends were pigs and cows and the poultry of a small farmyard who came into two hundred thousand good fortune worked no change in brown though she's a mighty social kymies

Starting point is 00:54:06 He was a clown, and by a clown I do not mean a pen to my mist. It left him quiet, calm and cool, though hardly knowing what a crown was. You can't imagine what a fool, poor, rich, uneducated brown was. He scouted all who wished to come and give him monetary schooling, and I proposed to give you some idea of his insensate fooling. I formed a company or two. Of course I don't know what the rest meant. I formed them solely with a view to help him to a sound investment. Their objects were their only cares to justify their boards in showing a handsome dividend on shares and keep their good promoter going. But no, the lout sticks to his brass. Though shares at par I freely proffer, yet will it be believed. "'The arse declines with thanks my well-meant offer.' "'He adds with Bumpkin's stolid grin,

Starting point is 00:55:12 "'a weakly intellect denoting, "'he had rather not invested in a company of my promoting. "'You have two hundred thou or more,' said I. "'You'll waste it, lose it, lend it. "'Come, take my furnished second floor. "'I'll gladly show you how to spend it.' "'But will it be believed that, he, with grin upon his face of Poppy, declined my aid, while thanking me for what he called

Starting point is 00:55:41 my philanthropy. Some blind, suspicious fools rejoice in doubting friends who wouldn't harm them. They will not hear the charmer's voice, however wisely he may charm them. I showed him that his coat, all dust, top boots and cords, provoked compassion, and proved that men of station must conform to the decrees of fashion. I showed him where to buy his hat, to coat him, trouser him, and boot him. But no, he wouldn't hear of that. He didn't think the style would suit him. I offered him a county's seat, and made no end of a narration. I made it certainty incomplete and introduced the deputation. But no, the clown my prospect blights. The worth of birth it surely teaches. Why should I want to spend my knights in Parliament and making

Starting point is 00:56:42 speeches? I haven't never been to school. I ain't had not no education, and I should surely be a fool to publish that to all the nation. I offered him a trotting horse. No hack had ever trotted faster. I also offered him, of course, a rare and curious old master. I offered to procure him weeds, wines fit for one in his position, but though an ass in all his deeds, he had learnt the meaning of commission. He called me thief the other day, and daily from his door he thrusts me. Much more of this, and soon I may begin to think that Brown mistrusts me. So deaf to all sound reasons rule this poor uneducated clownies, you cannot fancy what a fool poor, rich, uneducated brownies.

Starting point is 00:57:42 End of Ballard No. 16, The Folly of Brown by a General Agent, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 17 of the Bab Ballards by W. S. Gilbert. by Graham Redmond. Sir Maclin. Of all the youths I ever saw, none were so wicked, vain or silly, so lost to shame and Sabbath law, as worldly Tom and Bob and Billy. For every Sabbath day they walked, such was their gay and thoughtless nata, in parks or gardens,

Starting point is 00:58:27 where they talked from three to six, or even later. Sir Maclin was a priest severe in conduct and in conversation. It did a sinner good to hear him deal in rationination. He could in every action show some sin, and nobody could doubt him. He argued high, he argued low, he also argued round about him. He wept to think each thoughtless youth contained of wickedness as skinful, and burnt to teach the awful truth that walking out on Sundays sinful. "'Oh, youths,' said he,

Starting point is 00:59:09 "'I grieve to find the course of life you've been and hit on. "'Sit down,' said he, "'and never mind the pennies for the chairs you sit on. "'My opening head is Kensington. "'How, walking there, the sinner hardens, "'which, when I have enlarged upon, go to secondly its gardens my thirdly comprehendeth hide of secrecy the gilts and shameses my fourthly park its virgil wide my fifthly comprehends st jameses that matter settled i shall reach the sixthly in my solemn tether and show that what is true of each is also true of all together then i shall

Starting point is 00:59:59 shall demonstrate to you according to the rules of weightly that what is true of all is true of each considered separately in lavish stream his accents flow tom bob and billy dare not flout him he argued high he argued low he also argued round about him ha ha he said you loathe your ways you writhe at these my words of warning In agony your hands you raise. And so they did, for they were yawning. To twenty-firstly, on they go, the lads do not attempt to scout him. He argued high, he argued low. He also argued round about him.

Starting point is 01:00:50 Ho, ho, he cries, you bow your crests, My eloquence has set you weeping. In shame you bend upon your breasts. and so they did for they were sleeping he proved them this he proved them that this good but weary so mesetic he jumped and thumped upon his hat he was so very energetic his bishop at this moment chanced to pass and found the road encumbered he noticed how the churchman danced and how his congregation slumbered the hundred and eleventh head the priest completed of his stricter oh bosh the worthy bishop said and walked him off as in the picture end of ballad number seventeen sir maclin from the bab ballads this recording is in the public domain ballad number eighteen of the bab ballads by w s gilbert read philibrevox dot org by graham redman the yarn of the nancy bell twas on the shores that round our coast from deal to ramsgate's span that i found alone on a piece of stone an elderly naval man

Starting point is 01:02:17 his hair was weedy his beard was long and weedy and long was he and i heard this white 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 boatswain tight and a midship might 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 boatswain tight and a midship mite and the crew of the captain's gig then he gave a hitch to his trousers which is a trick all seaman larn and having got rid of a thumping quid he spun this pace 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.

Starting point is 01:03:35 There was seventy-seven of Seoul, 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 Brigg, and the the boatswain tight and a midship mite and the crew of the captain's gig. For a month we ate neither whittles nor drink till a hungry we did feel. So we drawed a lot, and according 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 midshipmight we seven survivors stayed.

Starting point is 01:04:14 And then we murdered the bosom-tight, and he much, resembled pig. Then we whittled 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 sitch. For I loved that cook as a brother, I did, and the cook he worshipped me, but we 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.

Starting point is 01:04:58 "'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 chop shalot, and some sage and parsley too.

Starting point is 01:05:26 "'Come here,' says he, with a proper pride, which his smiling features tell, "'Twill soothing be if I let you see how extremely nice you'll smell.' And he stirred it round and round and round, and he's stiffed 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 vessel in sight I see. And I never laugh, 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,

Starting point is 01:06:20 And the mate of the Nancy Brigg, And a boston tight, and a midship might, And the crew of the captain's gig. End of Ballad No. 18, the yarn of the Nancy Bell, From the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 19 of the Babelads by Doctor. W. S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redmond.

Starting point is 01:06:51 The Bishop of Rumtifu. From east and south the holy clan of bishops gathered to a man, to synod, called pan-anglica, and in flocking crowds they came. Among them was a bishop who had lately been appointed to the Barmy Isle of Rumty-Foo, and Peter was his name. His people, 23 in some, they played the eloquent tom-tum, and lived on scalps, served up in rum, the only source they knew. When first good bishop Peter came, for Peter was that bishop's name, to humour them he did the same as they of Rumty-Foo. His flock, I've often heard him tell, his name was Peter, loved him well, and summoned by the sound of Berndtifu.

Starting point is 01:07:44 in crowds together came. "'Oh, massa, why you go away? "'Oh, massa, Peter, please to stay!' "'They called him Peter, people say, "'because it was his name. "'He told them all good boys to be "'and sailed away across the sea. "'At London Bridge that bishop he

Starting point is 01:08:05 "'arrived one Tuesday night, "'and as that night he homeward strode "'to his Pan-Englican abode, "'he passed along the point, Borough Road and saw a gruesome sight. He saw a crowd assembled round a person dancing on the ground, whose straight began to leap and bound with all his might and main. To see that dancing man he stopped, who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped, then down incontinently dropped, and then sprang up again. The bishop chuckled at the sight. This style of dancing would deluxe.

Starting point is 01:08:44 a simple rumty-fuselite, I'll learn it if I can, to please the tribe when I get back. He begged the man to teach his neck. Right, reverend, sir, in half a crack, replied that dancing man. The dancing man he worked away and taught the bishop every day. The dancer skipped, like any fay, good Peter did the same. The bishop buckled to his task with Batemont, and Pardabasque. I'll tell you, if you care to ask, that Peter was his name. Come walk like this, the dancer said. Stick out your toes, stick in your head, stalk on with quick galvanic tread, your fingers thus extend. The attitudes considered quaint. The weary bishop feeling faint replied, I do not say it ain't, but time, my Christian friend.

Starting point is 01:09:43 We now proceed to some. new dance as the pains and glories do like this one two one two one two the bishop never proud but in an overwhelming heat his name was peter i repeat performed the pain and lorry feet and puffed his thanks aloud another game the dancer planned just take your ankle in your hand and try my lord if you can stand your body stiff and stark if when revisiting your sea you learnt to hop on shore like me the novelty would striking be and must attract remark no said the worthy bishop no that is a length to which i trow colonial bishops cannot go you may express surprise at finding bishops deal in pride but if that trick i ever tried i should appear undignified in rumtifu's eyes. The islanders of Rumty Fu are well-conducted persons who approve a joke as much as you, and laugh at it as such. But if they saw their bishop land his leg supported in his hand, the joke they wouldn't understand. T'would pain them very much.

Starting point is 01:11:07 End of Ballard No. 19, the Bishop of Rumty-Foo from the Bab Ballards. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number twenty of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redman. The precocious baby, a very true tale, to be sung to the air of the whistling oyster. An elderly person, a prophet by trade with his quips and tips on withered old lips, He married a young and a beautiful maid, the cunning old blade, though rather decayed, he married a beautiful, beautiful maid. She was only eighteen, and as fair as could be, with her tempting smiles and maidenly wiles, and he was a trifle past 73. Now, what she could see as a puzzle to me in a profit of seventy, 73, of all their acquaintances, bidden or bad, with their loud, high jinx and underbred winks none thought there'd a family have but they had a dear little lad who drove him half mad for he turned out a horribly fast little cad

Starting point is 01:12:27 for when he was born he astonished all by with the lord dear me did ever you see he had a pipe in his mouth and a glass in his eye a hat all awry an octagon tie and a miniature miniature glass in his eye he grumbled at wearing a frock and a cap with his oh dear oh and his hangy to know and he turned up his nose at his excellent pap my friends it's a tap that is not worth a rap now this was remarkably excellent pap he'd chuck his nurse under the chin and he'd say with his fal-l-l-l-l oo deuced fine gal this shocking precocity drove him away a month from to-day is as long as i'll stay then i'd wish if you please for to toddle away his father a simple old gentleman he with nursery rhyme and once on a time would tell him the story of little beau pee so pretty was she so pretty and we as pretty as pretty as pretty could be but the babe with a dig that would startle an ox with his k oh my go along with zoophy would exclaim i'm afraid who was socking old fox now a father it shocks and it whitens his locks when his little babe calls him a shocking old fox. The name of his father hid couple and pair, with his ill-bred laugh and insolent chaff, with those of the nursery heroines rare, Virginia the fair, or good golden hair, till the nuisance

Starting point is 01:14:08 was more than a profit could bear. "'There's Jill and white cat,' said the bold little brat with his loud, ha-ha. o sly y'all pa whizoo beauty beau peep and o mrs jack sprat i've noticed o pat my pretty white cat i think dear mamma ought to know about dat he early determined to marry and wife for better or worse with his elderly nurse which the poor little boy didn't live to contrive his health didn't thrive no longer alive he died an enfeebled old dotard at five. Moral. Now elderly men of the bachelor crew, with wrinkled hose and spectacled nose, don't marry at all.

Starting point is 01:14:58 You may take it as true, if ever you do, the step you will rue, for your babes will be elderly, elderly too. End of ballad number 20, the precocious baby, a very true tale, from the Babelads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number twenty-one of the Babb Ballards by W. S. Gilbert. Read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. To Phoebe Gentle, modest little flower, sweet epitome of May,

Starting point is 01:15:38 Love me, but for half an hour, love me, love me, little Faye. Sentences so fiercely flaming in your tiny shell-like ear, I should always be exclaiming if I loved you, Phoebe, dear. Smiles that thrill from any distance shed upon me while I sing. Please ecstatize existence. Love me, O thou fairy thing. Words like these outpouring sadly, you're perpetually here, if I loved you fondly, madly.

Starting point is 01:16:13 But I do not, Phoebe, dear. End of Ballard No. 21 to Phoebe from the Bad Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 22 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redman. Baines Carew Gentleman Of all the good attorneys who have placed their names upon the role, but few could equal Baines' Carou for tender-heartedness and soul, when'er he heard a tale of woe from client a or client b his grief would overcome him so he had scarce have strength to take his fee it laid him up for many days when duty led him to distrain and serving writs although it pays gave him excruciating pain he made out costs distrained for rent foreclosed and sued with moistened eye no bill of cost

Starting point is 01:17:21 could represent the value of such sympathy. No charges can approximate the worth of sympathy with woe, although I think I ought to state he did his best to make them so. Of all the many clients who had mustered round his legal flag, no single client of the crew was half so dear as Captain Bagg. Now Captain Bagg had bowed him to a heavy matrimonial yoke. His wife he had of faults a few. She never could resist a joke. Her chaff at first he meekly bore, till unendurable it grew. To stop this persecution sore, I will consult my friend, Carew.

Starting point is 01:18:07 And when Carew's advice I've got, divorce Armenza, I shall try. A legal separation, not our vinculo conjurioi. O Bain's Carew, my woe, I've kept. a secret hitherto, you know. And Baines-Caroo, Esquire, he wept to hear that Bag had any woe. My case indeed is passing sad. My wife, whom I considered true, with brutal conduct, drives me mad. I am appalled, said Baines-Carrue. What sound the matrimonial knell of worthy people such as these? Why was I an attorney? Well, go on to the Sevisia, please.

Starting point is 01:18:53 Domestic bliss has proved my bane, a harder case you never heard. My wife, in other matters sane, pretends that I'm a dicky bird. She makes me sing to wit to wee, and stand upon a rounded stick, and always introduces me to everyone as pretty dick. Oh, dear, said weeping baines, Carew, this is the diarise. case I know. I'm grieved, said Bag, at paining you. To Cobb and Potheth wait, I'll go.

Starting point is 01:19:27 To Cobb's cold calculating ear, my gruesome sorrows I'll impart. No, stop, said Baines, I'll dry my tear and steal my sympathetic heart. She makes me perch upon a tree, rewarding me with, sweetie, nice, and threatens to exhibit me with four or five performing mice. Restrain my tears I wish I could, said Baines. I don't know what to do, said Captain Bag, you're very good. Oh, not at all, said Baines Carew. She makes me fire a gun, said Bag, and, at a preconcerted word, climb up a ladder with a flag, like any street performing bird.

Starting point is 01:20:11 She places sugar in my way, in public places, calls me sweet. She gives me grounsel every day, And hard canary seed to eat. Oh, whoa, oh sad, oh dire to tell, said Baines, Be good enough to stop. And senseless on the floor he fell with unpremeditated flop. Said Captain Bagg, Well, really I am grieved to think it pains you so.

Starting point is 01:20:40 I thank you for your sympathy, but hang it, come, I say, you know. but baines lay flat upon the floor convulsed with sympathetic sob the captain toddled off next door and gave the case to mr cobb end of ballad number twenty two baines currue gentleman from the bab ballads this recording is in the public domain ballad number twenty three of the bab ballads by w s gilbert read for librivox dot org by graham redman thomas winterbottom hantz In all the towns and cities fair on Merry England's broad expanse, No swordsman ever could compare with Thomas Winterbottom hans. The dauntless lad could fairly hew a silken handkerchief in twain, Divide a leg of mutton, too, and this without unwholesome strain. On whole half-sheep with cunning trick, his sabre sometimes here employ,

Starting point is 01:21:47 No bar of lead, however thick, had terrors for the stalwart boy. At Dover daily he'd prepare to hue and slash behind before, which aggravated Monsieur Pierre, who watched him from the Calais shore. It caused good Pierre to swear and dance, the sight annoyed and vexed him so. He was the bravest man in France, he said so, and he ought to know. regarde don't this cauchon gross sepollicent o sacre blue sans sable some plume and cigots come's la mon dieu enn't finn my dee my dee hei oe dee give no retaliating whack the gigomore n'emps don't ever hit you back but every day the headstrong lad cut lead and mutton more and more and every day poor pierre half mad shrieked loud defiance from his shore hans had a mother poor and old a simple harmless village dame who crowed and clapped as people told of winterbottom's rising fame

Starting point is 01:23:05 she said i'll be upon the spot to see my tommy's sabre play and so she left her leafy cot and walked to dover in a day pierre had a doting mother who had heard of his defiant rage. His mar was nearly ninety-two, and rather dressy for her age. At Hans's doings every morn with sheer delight his mother cried, and Monsieur Pierre's contemptuous scorn filled his mama with proper pride. But Hans' powers began to fail, his constitution was not strong, and Pierre, who once was stout and hale, grew thin from shouting all day long their mothers saw them pale and wan maternal anguish tore each breast and so they met to find a plan to set their offspring's minds at rest said mrs hans of course i shrinks from bloodshed ma'am as you're aware but still they're better meat i thinks assuredment said madame pierre a sunny spot in sunny france was hit upon

Starting point is 01:24:17 for this affair the ground was picked by mrs. Hans the stakes were pitched by Madame Pierre said Mrs. H your work you see go in my noble boy and win on guard ma fiss said Madame P allands go on on guard begin the mothers were of decent size though not particularly at all 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. The French for Pesh, said Thomas H.

Starting point is 01:24:58 Said Pierre, l'englet monsieur, poor bar. Said Mrs. H. Come, one, two, three. We're sitting here to see all fair. It's magnificent, said Madame P. May, par bleu, it's not la gire. "'Jes scorn, own foe, si lache as you,' said Pierre, the doughty son of France.

Starting point is 01:25:22 "'I fight not, coward foe like you,' said our undaunted Tommy Hans. "'The French for Poo!' our Tommy cried. "'Longley Perva!' the Frenchman crowed. And so, with undiminished pride, each went on his respective road. End of Ballard Number 23, Thomas Winterbottom Hans, from the Babblads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 24 of the Bab Ballards by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redman. The Reverend Micah Sowls.

Starting point is 01:26:06 The Reverend Micah Sowls, he shouts and yells and howls, he screams, he mowls, he mounds, 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 bishops in a pew. So Reverend Micah claps on extra steam, His eyes are flashing with superior gleam.

Starting point is 01:26:47 He is as energetic as can be, for there are fatter livings in that sea. The bishop, when it's ear, goes through the vestry door, where Micah very red is mopping of his head. Pardon, my lord, your soul's 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 so seeds of evil broadcast well it may

Starting point is 01:27:32 but let me ask you my respected son pray have you ever ventured into one my lord said mica no i never never go what go and see you you 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 Sals, you never go, I don't quite understand how you're to know. Well, really, Micah said,

Starting point is 01:28:04 I've often heard and read, but never go. Do you? The bishop said, I do. That proves me wrong. 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, Salz 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

Starting point is 01:28:48 absurd, and spoke an English soul's had never heard. For gaunt was spoken, Gant, and haunt transformed to haunt, and wrath pronounced as wrath, and death was changed to death. For hours and hours that dismal actor walked, and talked and talked, and talked, till lethargy upon the parson crept, and sleepy Micasal's 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. End of Ballad No. 24, the Reverend Micah Sals from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 01:30:10 number twenty-five of the bab ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redmond. 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. His name, I shall I, name I shall not mention. He had a trusty wife and true, and very cozy 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 done, no losses made him sulky. He had one sorrow.

Starting point is 01:31:12 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 measure to measure 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 Sugarbroker's 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 char

Starting point is 01:32:12 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 paws. 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 not.

Starting point is 01:33:12 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 figure of unswerving fate, he laboured still to work his will, and kicked away like winking. winking. His friends discussed it 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 limna's art. If you would know, this sketch will show how his exertions ended. Moral. I hate to preach,

Starting point is 01:34:38 I hate to prate. I'm no fanatic croaker. but learn contentment from the fate of this east india broker here everything a man of taste could ever want except a waste and discontent his size anent and bootless perseverance blind completely wrecked the peace of mind of this east india broker end of ballad number twenty five a discontented sugarbroker from the bab ballads This recording is in the public domain. embodiment of echoing inanity excellent type of simpering insanity unwieldy clumsy nightmare of humanity i ring thy knell to-night thou diest beast that destroyest 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 durnally. Credited for the smile you wear externally, I feel disposed to smash thy face infernally, as there thou liest.

Starting point is 01:36:35 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 my own. unchecked depravity, invested with a ghastly reciprocity, I've been responsible for thy monstrosity, I, for thy wanton blundering ferocity, but not again. Tis time to toil thy knell and that of folly's pantomimical, a nine weeks run and thou hast done all thou canst do to make thyself inimical. a due embodiment of all inanity excellent type of simpering insanity unwieldy clumsy nightmare of humanity freed is thy soul

Starting point is 01:37:35 the mask respondeth o 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 drascality, a soul that weeps at thy threadbare morality, both grieving that their individuality is merged in thine. End of ballad number 26, the pantomime super to his mask from the bab ballads. this recording is in the public domain ballad number twenty seven of the bab ballads by w s gilbert read for librivox dot org by graham redman

Starting point is 01:38:37 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 turnip topville by the sea this elegant nobleman went, for that was a borough that he was anxious to represent. At local assemblies he danced until he felt thoroughly ill. He waltzed and he galloped and lanced and threaded the mazy quadrille. The maidens of Turnip-topville 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 Anne Pond, the other sad Mary Morel. Anne Pond had determined to try and carry the Earl with a rush. Her principal feature was I, her greatest accomplishment, gush. And Mary chose this for her play. Whenever he looked in her eye, sheared blush and turn quickly away and

Starting point is 01:39:56 flitter and flutter and sigh. It was noticed he constantly sighed as she worked out the scheme she had planned, a fact he endeavoured to hide with his aristocratical hand. Old Pond was a farmer, they say, and so was old Tommy Morel. In a humble and pottering way they were doing exceedingly well. They both of them carried by vote, the Earl was a dangerous man. So, nervously clearing his throat one morning, old Tommy began, My d'art has no prattie, young doll. I'm a plain-spoken Zumerset man. Now what do he mean by my poll, and what do he mean by his Anne? Said B, I will give you my bond, I mean them uncommonly well. Believe me, my ear, excellent pond and credit me worthy morel it's quite indisputable for i'll prove it with singular ease you shall have it in barbara or celerent whichever you please

Starting point is 01:41:03 you see when an anchorite bows to the yoke of intentional sin if the state of the country allows homogene always steps in it's a highly aesthetical bond as any mere ploughboy can tell "'Of course,' replied puzzled Old Pond. "'I see,' said old Tommy Morel. "'Very good, then,' continued the Lord. "'When it's fooled to the top of its bent, "'with a sweep of a Damocles sword, "'the web of intention is rent. "'That's patent to all of us here,

Starting point is 01:41:39 "'as any mere schoolboy can tell.' "'Pond answered, "'Of course it's quite clear.' "'And so did that. humbug morel its tones esoteric in force i trust that i make myself clear morel only answered of course while pond slowly muttered here here volition celestial prize pellucid as porphyry cell is based on a principal wise quite so exclaimed pond and morel from what i have said you will see that I couldn't wet either. In fine by nature's unchanging decree, your daughters could never be mine.

Starting point is 01:42:28 Go home to your pigs and your ricks. My hands of the matter I've rinsed. So they take up their hats and their sticks, and exeunt ambo, convinced. End of ballad number 27, the force of argument from the bab ballads. This recording, is in the public domain. Ballard number 28 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert. Redford Librivox.org by Graham Redman. The ghost, the gallant, the gale, and the goblin. Or unreclaimed suburban clays, some years ago were hoblin, an elderly ghost of easy ways,

Starting point is 01:43:18 and an influential goblin. The ghost was a somber spectral shape, a fine old, five-act fogey. The goblin imp, a lithe young ape, a fine, low-comedy bogey. And as they exercised their joints, promoting quick digestion, they talked on several curious points and raised this delicate question. Which of us, too, is number one, the ghosty or the goblin? And o'er the point they raised in fun, they fairly fell a squablin. They'd barely speak, and each, in fine, grew more and more reflective, each thought his own particular line by chalks the more effective.

Starting point is 01:44:05 At length they settled someone should, by each of them, be haunted, and so arranged that either could exert his prowess vaunted. The quaint against the statuesque, by competition lawful, the goblin backed the quaint grotesque, the ghost the grandly awful. Now, said the goblin, here's my plan. In attitude commanding, I see a stalwart Englishman by yonder Taylor's standing. The very fittest man on earth my influence to try on, of gentle, perhaps of noble birth, and dauntless as a lion.

Starting point is 01:44:43 Now wrap yourself within your shroud, remain in easy hearing. Observe, you'll hear him scream aloud when I begin appearing. The imp with yell unearthly, Wild threw off his dark enclosure. His dauntless victim looked and smiled with singular composure. For hours he tried to daunt the youth. For days indeed, but vainly, the stripling smiled. To tell the truth, the stripling smiled in vainly.

Starting point is 01:45:15 For weeks the goblin weird and wild that noble stripling haunted. For weeks the stripling stood and smiled, unmoved and all undaunted. the sombre ghost exclaimed your plan has failed you goblin plainly now watch yon hardy heelant man so stalwart and ungainly these are the men who chase the row whose footsteps never falter who bring with them where'er they go a smack of old sir walter of such as he the men sublime who lead their troops victorious whose deeds go down to after-time enshrined in annals glorious. Of such as he the bard has said, Hech throfful ralty-rarchy, with fector crune a clapperhead, and fash we uncou-porky. He'll faint away when I appear upon his native heather, or perhaps he'll only stream with fear, or perhaps the two together. The spectre showed himself alone to do his ghostly

Starting point is 01:46:20 battling, with curdling grown and dismal moan, and lots of of chains erratling. But no, the chiel's stout Gaelic stuff withstood all ghostly harrying. His fingers closed upon the snuff which upwards he was carrying. For days that ghost declined to stir a foggy, shapeless giant. For weeks that splendid officer stared back again defiant. Just as the Englishman returned the goblin's vulgar staring, just so the Scotchman bow' bowed. coldless purned the ghost's unmannered scaring. For several years the ghostly twain these Britons bold have haunted, but all their efforts are in vain, their victims stand undaunted. This very day the imp and ghost whose powers the imp derided stand each at his allotted post.

Starting point is 01:47:18 The bet is undecided. End of Ballad number 28. The Ghost, the Galant. the Gale and the Goblin from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 29 of the Bab Ballards by W.S. Gilbert. Read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. The Phantom Curate, a fable. A bishop once, I will not name his sea,

Starting point is 01:47:54 annoyed his clergy in the mode conventional. From pulpit shackles never set them free and found a sin where sin was unintentional. All pleasures ended in abuse auricular. The bishop was so terribly particular. Though on the whole a wise and upright man, he sought to make of human pleasures clearances and form his priests on that much-lawed plan

Starting point is 01:48:22 which pays undue attention to appearances. He couldn't do good deeds without a son. Although in truth he bore away the parminum. Enraged to find a deacon at a dance, or catch a curate at some mild frivolity, he sought by open censure to enhance their dread of joining harmless social jollity. Yet he enjoyed, a fact of notoriety, the ordinary pleasures of society. One evening sitting at a pantomime, forbidden treat to the, those who stood in fear of him, roaring at jokes, sans meter, sense, or rhyme, he turned,

Starting point is 01:49:08 and saw immediately in rear of him his peace of mind upsetting and annoying it, a curate also heartily enjoying it. Again, twas Christmas Eve, and to enhance his children's pleasure in their harmless rollicking, he, like a good old fellow, stood to dance. when something checked the current of his frolicing, that curate, with a maid he treated lovely, stood up and figured with him in the coverly. Once, yielding to an universal choice,

Starting point is 01:49:43 the company's demand was an emphatic one, for the old bishop had a glorious voice. In a quartet he joined, an operatic one. Harmless enough, though near a word of grace in it, when lo that curate came and took the base in it one day when passing through a quiet street he stopped a while and joined a punch's gathering and chuckled more than solemn folk think meet to see that gentleman his judy leathering and heard as punch was being treated penally that phantom curate laughing all hyenaly now a at a picnic, mid fair golden curls, bright eyes, straw hats, potines that fit amazingly, a croquet bout is planned by all the girls, and he, consenting, speaks of croquet praisingly.

Starting point is 01:50:42 But suddenly declines to play at all in it, the curate fiend has come to take a ball in it. Next, when at quiet seaside village freed from cares episcopal and dies monarchical, he grows his beard and smokes his fragrant weed in manner anything but hierarchical. He sees and fixes an unearthly stare on it that curate's face with half a yard of hair on it. At length he gave a charge and spake this word, Because your curates to enjoyment urge ye may, To check their harmless pleasurings absurd, What lay Amen do without reproach, my clergy may. He spake, and lo, at this concluding word of him, the curate vanished.

Starting point is 01:51:38 No one since has heard of him. End of Ballard No. 29, the Phantom Curate, a Fable, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard Number 30 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert read for Librived. Vox.org by Graham Redmond. The sensation captain. No nobler captain ever trod than Captain Parklebury-Tod, so good, so wise, so brave he. But still, as all his friends would own, he had one folly, one alone, this captain in the Navy.

Starting point is 01:52:25 I do not think I ever knew a man so wholly given to creating a sensation, or perhaps, I should in justice say to what in Anadelfi play is known as situation. He passed his time designing traps to flurry unsuspicious chaps. The taste was his innately. He couldn't walk into a room without ejaculating, boom! Which startled ladies greatly. He'd wear a mask and muffling cloak, not you will understand in joke, as some assumed deceit.

Starting point is 01:53:02 guises. He did it actuated by a simple love of mystery and fondness for surprises. I need not say he loved a maid. His eloquence threw into shade all others who adored her. The maid, though pleased at first, I know, found after several years or so her startling lover bored her. So when his orders came to sail, she did not faint or scream or wail, or with her tears anoint him. She shook his hand and said, Goodbye, with laughter dancing in her eye, which seemed to disappoint him. But ere he went aboard his boat, he placed around her little throat a ribbon, blue and yellow, on which he hung a double tooth, a simple token this in sooth. "'Twas all he had, poor fellow.' "'I often wonder,' he would say, when very, very far away,

Starting point is 01:54:02 if Angelina wears it. A plan has entered in my head. I will pretend that I am dead and see how Angie bears it. The news he made a messmate tell. His Angelina bore it well. No sign gave she of crazing. But steady as the inch-cape rock, his Angelina stood the shock with fortitude amazing.

Starting point is 01:54:27 She said, Someone I must elect poor Angelina to protect from all who wish to harm her. Since worthy Captain Todd is dead, I rather feel inclined to wed a comfortable farmer. A comfortable farmer came, Basanio Tyler was his name, who had no end of treasure. He said, my noble gal be mine. The noble gal did not decline, but simply said, with pleasure. When this was told to Captain Todd, At first he thought it rather odd, and felt some perturbation. But very long he did not grieve, he thought he could away perceive to such a situation.

Starting point is 01:55:14 I'll not reveal myself, said he, till they are both in the ecclesiastical arena. Then suddenly I will appear, and paralyzing them with fear, demand, my Angelina. At length arrived the wedding day, accouted in the year, usual way appeared the bridal body. The worthy clergyman began, when in the gallant captain ran and cried, Behold your toddy! The bridegroom perhaps was terrified, and also possibly the bride. The bridesmaids were affrighted. But Angelina noble soul contrived her feelings to control, and really seemed delighted. "'My bride,' said gallant Captain Todd,

Starting point is 01:56:01 "'she's mine, uninteresting, Claude, "'my own, my darling charmer.' "'Oh dear,' said she, "'you're just too late. "'I'm married to, I beg to state this comfortable farmer.' "'Indeed,' the farmer said, "'she's mine. "'You've been and cut it far too fine.'

Starting point is 01:56:22 "'I see,' said Todd, "'I'm beaten.' "'And so he was. went to see once more, Sensation he for A foreswore, and married on her native shore a lady whom he had met before, a lovely Oter Heaton. End of Ballard No. 30, the Sensation Captain,

Starting point is 01:56:45 from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballad No. 31 of the Babelads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. Tempora mutantur. Letters, letters, letters, letters, some that please and some that more, some that threaten prison fetters,

Starting point is 01:57:16 metaphorically fetters, such as bind insolvent debtors, invitations by the score. One from Cogson, Wiles, and Rela, my attorney's off the strand. One from copper-block my tailor, my unreasonable tailor, one in flag's disgusting hand. One from Ephraim and Moses, wanting coin without a doubt,

Starting point is 01:57:43 I should like to pull their noses, their uncompromising noses. One from Alice with the roses. Ah, I know what that's about. Time was when I, when I, I waited, waited for the missives that she wrote. Humble postman execrated, loudly, deeply execrated, When I heard I wasn't fated to be gladdened with a note.

Starting point is 01:58:11 Time was when I had not have bartered of her little pen a dip, For a peerage duly gartered, For a peerage starred and garted, With a palace office chartered, or a secretorship. But the time for that is, over and i wish we'd never met i'm afraid i've proved a rover i'm afraid a heartless rover quarters in a place like dover tend to make a man forget bills for carriages and horses bills for wine and light cigar matters that concern the forces news that may affect the forces news affecting my resources much more interesting are and the tiny little paper with the words that seem to run from her little fingers taper they are very small and taper by the tailor and the draper are in interest outdone

Starting point is 01:59:12 and unopened its remaining i can read her gentle hope her entreaties uncomplaining she was always uncomplaining her devotion never waning through the little envelope End of Ballard number 31, Tempora Mutantua, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 32 of the Bab Ballards by W.S. Gilbert. Read for Librevox.org by Graham Redman. At a pantomime by Abilious One. An actor sits in doubtful gloom. His stock in trade unfurled in a damp funereal dressing-room in the theatre royal world.

Starting point is 02:00:09 He comes to town at Christmas time and braves its icy breath, to play in that favourite pantomime, harlequin, life and death. A hoary-flowing wig his weird unearthly cranium caps. He hangs a long, benevolent beard, on a pair of empty chaps. To smooth his ghastly features down, the actor's art he cribs. A long and a flowing padded gown bedex his rattling ribs. He cries, go on, begin, begin, turn on the light of lime.

Starting point is 02:00:52 I'm dressed for jolly old Christmas in a favourite pantomime. The curtains are. The stage all black, Time and the Year nigh sped. Time as an advertising quack, the old year nearly dead. The wand of time is waved and low, Revealed Old Christmas stands, and little children chuckle and crow, and laugh and clap their hands. The cruel old scoundrel brightens up at the death of the olden year. and he waves a gorgeous golden cup and bids the world good cheer.

Starting point is 02:01:36 The little ones hail the festive king, no thought can make them sad. Their laughter comes with a sounding ring. They clap and crow like mad. They only see in the humbug old a holiday every year, and handsome gifts and joys untold and unaccustomed cheer. the old ones palsied blear and whore their breasts in anguish beat they've seen him seventy times before how well they know the cheat they've seen that ghastly pantomime they've felt its blighting breath they know that rollicking christmas time meant cold and want and death starvation poor law union fair and deadly cramines and chills, and illness, illness everywhere, and crime and Christmas bills.

Starting point is 02:02:38 They know old Christmas well, I wean, those men of ripened age. They've often, often seen that actor off the stage. They see in his gay rotundity a clumsy, stuffed out-dress. They see in the cup he waves on the side. high, a tinseled emptiness. Those aged men so lean and when, they've seen it all before. They know they'll see the charlatan but twice or three times more. And so they bear with dance and song, and crimson foil and green. They wearily sit and grimly long for the transformation scene.

Starting point is 02:03:26 End of Ballard Number 32, at a pantomime by Abilious One, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 33 of the Bab Ballards by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. King Boria Bungali Boo King Boria Bungali Boo was a man-eating African swell. his sigh was a hullabaloo his whisper a horrible yell a horrible horrible yell four subjects and all of them male to bore a double the knee they were once on a far larger scale but he had eaten the balance you see scale and balance is punning you see there was haughty pish tush pooh-bar there was lumbering doodle dumb day despairing a lack o day and good little tutel tumtay exemplary tutel tomtay one day there was grief in the crew for they hadn't a morsel of meat and boring

Starting point is 02:04:43 A bungalibou was dying for something to eat. Come provide me with something to eat. Alackaday, famished I feel. O good little Tootletum, Tay, where on earth shall I look for a meal, for I haven't no dinner today, not a morsel of dinner today? Dear Tootletum, what shall we do? Come get us a meal, or in truth, if you don't we shall have to eat you, O adorable friend of our youth.

Starting point is 02:05:13 "'The beloved little friend of our youth!' "'And he answered, "'Oh, bungalie-boo, for a moment I hope you will wait. "'Tippy-wippity-Tol-Ler-Loo, "'is the queen of a neighbouring state, "'a remarkably neighbouring state. "'Tippy-wip-witty told the Rol-Loo, "'she would pickle deliciously cold,

Starting point is 02:05:35 "'and her four pretty amazons, too, are enticing, "'and not very old. "'Twenty-seven is not very old. there is neat little titi folay there is rollicking tralla ralah la there is jocular waggety way there is musical do ramey far there's the nightingale do ramee far so the forces of bungalibu marched forth in a terrible row and the ladies who fought for queen lou prepared to encounter the foe this dreadful insatiate foe but they sharpened no weapons at all and they poisoned no arrow rose, 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 endeavoured to make themselves fair. With black they encircled each eye, and with yellow they painted their hair. It was wool, but they thought it

Starting point is 02:06:35 was hair. And the forces they met in the field, and the men of King Boria said, "'Amazonians immediately yield, "'and their arrows they drew to the head, "'yes drew them right up to the head. "'But chocular waggety way, "'Ogle-doodle-Dum-Day, which was wrong, "'and neat little titifolet, said Tootletum, "'you know along, you naughty, old dear, go along.'

Starting point is 02:07:03 "'And rollicking, trawler-la-la, "'tapped a lacadie-R with her fan, "'and musical do-remy-far said, Pish, go away, you bad man, go away, you delightful young man. And the Amazons simpered and sighed, and they ogled and giggled and flushed, and they opened their pretty eyes wide, and they chuckled and flirted and blushed, at least if they could they'd have blushed. But haughty Pish-Tush-Pubar said, Alacaday, what does this mean? And despairing Alacaday are, said, they think us uncommonly green.

Starting point is 02:07:42 Ha, ha, most uncommonly green. Even blundering doodle-dum-day was insensible quite to their leers, and said good little tootel-tum-tay, "'It's your blood we desire, pretty dears. We have come for our dinners, my dears.' And the queen of the Amazons fell to borrow a bungalibou. In a mouthful he gulped with a yell, tipy-wippity, Tollar-Rolloo, the pretty queen, Tollarolulu.

Starting point is 02:08:12 And neat little titifal day was eaten by Pish-Poo-Bah, And light-hearted, wagotty way by dismal al-Aqa-a-a-a-a-dair. And rollicking Trell La-R, was eaten by doodle-dum-day, And musical dough-remy-far by good little Tootletum-Tay, Exemplary Tootletum-Tay. End of Ballad number 33, King Boria Bungali Boo, from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 34 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman.

Starting point is 02:08:59 The Perry Winkle Girl I've often thought that headstrong youths of decent education determine all important truths with strange precision. The ever-ready victims they of logical illusions, and in a self-assertive way they jump at strange conclusions. Now take my case. As sorrow could my ample forehead wrinkle, I had determined that I should not care to be a winkle. A winkle, I would oft advance, with readiness-provoking, can seldom flirt and never dance, or soothe his mind by smoking. In short, I spurned the Shelley Joy and spoke with strange decision.

Starting point is 02:09:45 Men pointed to me as a boy who held them in derision. But I was young, too young by far, or I had been more wary. I knew not then that Winkles are the stock in trade of Mary. I had not watched her sunlight blithe, as o'er their shells it dances. I've seen those Winkles almost. writhe beneath her beaming glances. Of slighting all the winkly brood I surely had been cheery, if I had known they formed the food and stock-in-trade of Mary. Both high and low, and great and small fell prostrate at her toottsies. They all were noblemen, and all had balances at

Starting point is 02:10:31 coottsies. Dukes with the lovely maiden dealt, Duke Bailey and Duke Humphy, who at her winkie, who at winkles till they felt exceedingly uncomfy. Duke Bailey greatest wealth computes and sticks, they say, at no thing. He wears a pair of golden boots and silver underclothing. Duke Humphy, as I understand, though mentally acuter, his boots are only silver and his underclothing pewter. A third adorer had the girl, a man of lowly station, a miserable grovelling earl besought her approbation. This humble cad she did refuse with much contempt and loathing.

Starting point is 02:11:17 He wore a pair of leather shoes and cambric underclothing. Ha ha, she cried upon my word. Well, really, come, I never. Oh, go along, it's too absurd. My goodness, did you ever? Two dukes would Mary make a bride, and from her foes defend her. "'Well, not exactly that,' they cried. "'We offer guilty splendour. "'We do not offer marriage right, so please dismiss the notion.' "'Oh, dear,' said she, "'that alters quite the state of my emotion.

Starting point is 02:11:52 "'The earl he up and says, says he, "'dismiss them to their orgies, "'for I am game to marry thee quite regular at St. George's.' "'Hid had it happily befell a decent education his views would have befitted well a far superior station. His sterling worth had worked a cure. She never heard him grumble. She saw his soul was good and pure, although his rank was humble.

Starting point is 02:12:22 Her views of earldoms and their lot all underwent expansion. Come, virtue, in an earldom's cot. Go, vice in Ducal Mansion. End of Ball at number thirty-four. Winkle Girl from the Babblades. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 35 of the Babelads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redmond. Thompson Green and Harriet Hale. To be sung to the air of An Aorable Tale. Oh, list to this incredible tale of Thompson Green and Harriet Hale, It's truth in one remark, your son.

Starting point is 02:13:13 Twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twom. O Thompson Green was an auctioneer and made three hundred pounds a year, and Harriet Hale, most strange to say, gave piano forty lessons at a sovereign a day. O Thompson Green, I may remark, met Harriet Hale in Regent's Park, where he, in a casual kind of way, spoke of the extraordinary beauty of the day. They met again, and strange, though true, he courted her for a month or two. Then to her par, he said, says he, old man, I love your daughter, and your daughter worships me. Their names were regularly banned, the wedding day was settled, and, I've ascertained, by Dintop's

Starting point is 02:14:01 search, they were married on the choir at St. Mary Abbott's Church. Oh, list to this incredible tale of Thompson Green and Harriet Hale, It's truth in one remark, you'll sum. Twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twom. That very self-same afternoon, they started on their honeymoon, And, oh, astonishment, took flight to a pretty little cottage close to Shanklin Isle of Wight. But now, you'll doubt my word I know, in a month they both returned, and low, astounding fact, this happy pair took a gentlemanly residence in Canberra Square.

Starting point is 02:14:43 They led a weird and reckless life, they dined each day this man and wife, pray disbelieve it if you please, on a joint of meat, a pudding and a little bit of cheese. In time came those maternal joys which take the form of girls or boys, and strange to say of each they'd one, a tiddy-ddy daughter and a tiddy-y-duty-duty-and-a-older. idie son. Oh, list to this incredible tale of Thompson Green and Harriet Hale, it's truth in one remark your sum. Twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twom. My name for truth is gone, I fear, but monstrous as it may appear, they let their drawing-room one day to an eligible person in the cotton-broking way.

Starting point is 02:15:29 Whenever Thompson Green fell sick, his wife called in a doctor quick, From whom some words like these would come, Fiat missed some end of hostas in a cochlearium. For thirty years this curious pair hung out in Canaanbury Square, And somehow wonderful to say, They loved each other dearly in a quiet sort of way. Well, Thompson Green fell ill and died, For just a year his widow,

Starting point is 02:15:59 cried, and then her heart she gave away to the eligible lodger in the cotton-broking way. Oh, list to this incredible tale of Thompson Green and Harriet Hale, its truth in one remarkable sum, Twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twaddle, twom. End of ballad number thirty-five, Thompson Green and Harriet Hale from the Babel's. recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 36 of the Babelads by W.S. Gilbert. Read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman.

Starting point is 02:16:45 Bob Polter Bob Polter was a navvy, and his hands were coarse and dirty, too. His homely face was rough and tanned. His time of life was 32. He lived among a working clan, a wife he hadn't got at all, a decent, steady, sober man, no saint, however, not at all. He smoked, but in a modest way, because he thought he needed it. He drank a pot of beer a day, and sometimes he exceeded it. At times he'd pass with other men a loud convivial night or two, with very likely now and then

Starting point is 02:17:28 on Saturdays a fight or two. But still he was a sober soul, a little. A little. A little. A little. A little. A little. labour never shirking man, who paid his way, upon the whole a decent English working man. One day when at the Nelson's head, for which he may be blamed of you, a holy man appeared and said, Oh, Robert, I'm ashamed of you. He laid his hand on Robert's beer before he could drink up any, and on the floor with sigh and tear he poured the pot of threepenny. oh robert at this very bar a truth you'll be discovering a good and evil genius are around your noddle hovering they both are here to bid you shun the other one's society for total abstinence is one the other inebriety he waved his hand a vapour came a wizard polter reckoned him a bogey rose and caud called his name and with his finger beckoned him.

Starting point is 02:18:38 The monster's salient points to some, his heavy breath was portary, his glowing nose suggested rum, his eyes were gin and watery. His dress was torn, for dregs of ale and slops of gin had rusted it. His pimpled face was wan and pale, where filth had not encrusted it. "'Come, Polter,' said the fiend. "'Bigan and keep the bowl a flowing on. "'A working man needs pints of gin to keep his clockwork going on.' "'Bob shuddered.

Starting point is 02:19:13 "'Ah, you've made a miss if you take me for one of you. "'You filthy beast, get out of this. "'Bob Polter don't want none of you.' "'The demon gave a drunken shriek and crept away in stealthiness. and lo, instead, a person's sleek, who seem to burst with healthiness. In me, as your advisor hints, of abstinence you've got a type, of Mr. Tweedy's pretty prince, I am the happy prototype. If you abjure the social toast and pipes and such frivolities,

Starting point is 02:19:52 you possibly someday may boast my prepossessing qualities. "'Bob rubbed his eyes and made them blink. "'You almost make me tremble you. "'If I abjure fermented drink, "'shall I indeed resemble you? "'And will my whiskers curl so tight, "'my cheeks grow smug and muttony, "'my face become so red and white,

Starting point is 02:20:18 "'my coat so blue and botany? "'Will trousers such as yours array "'extremities inferior, Will chubbiness assert its sway all over my exterior? In this my unenlightened state, to work in heavy boots I comes, Will pumps henceforward decorate my tiddle-toddle tootsichomes? And shall I get so plump and fresh and look no longer seedily? My skin will henceforth fit my flesh so tightly and so tweedily.

Starting point is 02:20:53 The Phantom said, You'll have all this, You'll know no kind of huffiness. Your life will be one chubby bliss, One long unruffled puffiness. Be off, said irritated Bob. Why come you here to bother one? You phariseical old snob,

Starting point is 02:21:16 You're wuss almost than t'other one. I takes my pipe, I takes my pot, And drunk I'm never seen to be. I'm no tea totaler or sot. And as I am, I mean to be. End of Ballard number 36, Bob Polter from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballad Number 37 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert

Starting point is 02:21:51 read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. 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 who. 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 pentechnicon all night one winter i am shaky in my dates came two starving tartan minstrels to his gates o allah be obeyed how infernally they played i remember that they called themselves the waits 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

Starting point is 02:23:17 alas prince egypt 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, schertzando maronotropo p p p he gave them money more than they could count sent 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

Starting point is 02:24:27 remember it, I quail. The elder of the brothers gave a squeal. All overish it made me for to feel. Oh, 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 seth. No waits in truth are we, as you fancy that we be,

Starting point is 02:24:54 For, to ramble, I am Alec, this is but. Beth. Said Egyb, O a cursid of your kind, I have heard that ye are men of evil mind. Beth gave a dreadful shriek, but before he had 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,

Starting point is 02:25:37 while a mercenary wapped me with a will. They branded me and broke me on a wheel, and they left me in an 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. End of Ballard, No. 37, the story of Prince Agib from the Babelads.

Starting point is 02:26:17 This recording is in the public domain. Ballot number 38 of the Bab Babb Bres. Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librevox.org by Graham Redmond. Ellen McJones, Aberdeen. Macpherson Clonglockety, Angus MacLan, was the son of an elderly labouring man. You've guessed him a Scotchman, shrewd reader, at sight, and perhaps altogether shrewd reader, you're right. From the Bonnie blew forth to the lovely D-side, round by Dingwall and Roth to the mouth of

Starting point is 02:26:56 Clyde, there wasn't a child or a woman or man who could pipe with clonglockety, Angus Maclan. No other could wake such detestable groans with reed and with chaunter, with bag and with drones. All day and all night he delighted the chiels with sniggering peabrocks and jiggerty reels. He'd clamber a mountain and squat on the ground, and the neighbouring maidens would gather around to list to the pipes and to gaze in his e'en, especially Ellen McJones, Aberdeen. All loved their MacLam, save a Sassanach brute, who came to the Highlands to fish and to shoot. He dressed himself up in the Highland away, though his name it was Paterson Corby Torbay. Torbay had incurred a good deal of expense to make him a Scotchman in every sense,

Starting point is 02:27:53 But this is a matter you'll readily own that isn't a question of tailors alone. Assassinach chief may be bonily built. He may purchase a sporren, a bonnet and kilt. Stick a skein in his hose, wear an acre of stripes. But he cannot assume an affection for pipes. Klong-glock at his pipings all night and all day quite frenzied, poor Patterson Corby Torbay. The girls were amused at his singular spleen, especially Ellen McJones-Abertine. Macpherson Clonglockety angers my lad, with P-Brochs and reels, you are driving me mad. If you really must play on that cursed affair, my goodness, play something resembling an air. Boiled over the blood of Macpherson-McKlan, the clan of Clonglokity rose as one man, for all

Starting point is 02:28:52 were enraged at the insult, I wean, especially Ellen McJones, Aberdeen. "'Let's show,' said MacLan, to this Sassanak-loon, that the bagpipes can play him a regular tune. "'Let's see,' said McClan, as he thoughtfully sat. "'In my cottage is easy. I'll practice at that.' He blew at his cottage, and blew with a will, for a year, seven months and a fortnight, until, you'll hardly believe it, McClain, I declare, elicited something resembling an air. It was wild, it was fitful, as wild as the breeze, it wandered about into several keys, it was jerky, spasmodic, and harsh, I'm aware, but still it distinctly suggested an air.

Starting point is 02:29:46 The Sassanach screamed and the Sassanak danced. He shrieked in his axe. He shrieked in his axe. agony bellowed and pranced, and the maidens who gathered rejoiced at the scene, especially Ellen MacJones, Aberdeen. "'Heh gather, heh gather, hech gather around, and fill o ye lugs with the exquisite sound. And air-free the bagpipes beat that, if you can. Hurrah for clung-glockety Angus MacLan!' The fame of his piping spread over the land. widows proposed for his hand, and maidens came flocking to sit on the green, especially

Starting point is 02:30:25 Elim McJones, Aberdeen. One morning the fidgety Sasanach swore he'd stand it no longer, he drew his claymore, and, this was, I think, in extremely bad taste, divided clonglockety close to the waist. Oh, loud were the wailings for Angus MacLan, O deep was the grief for that excellent man. The maids stood aghast at the horrible scene, especially Ellen McJones-Aidine. It sorrowed poor Patterson Corby-Torbae to find them take on in this serious way. He pitied the poor little fluttering birds and solaced their souls with the following words. "'Oh, maidens,' said Patterson, touching his hat, "'don't blubber, my dearie.

Starting point is 02:31:18 for a fellow like that. Observe, I'm a very superior man, a much better fellow than Angus MacLan. They smiled when he winked and addressed them as dears, and they all of them vowed as they dried up their tears, a pleasanter gentleman never was seen. Especially Ellen McJones, Aberdeen. End of Ballad No. 38.

Starting point is 02:31:48 Ellen McJones, Aberdeen, from the Babelads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 39 of the Bab Ballads by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. Peter the Wag. Policeman Peter Fourth, I drag from his obscure retreat. He was a merry, genial wag, who loved a mad conceit. If he were asked the time of day by country bumpkins green, he not unfrequently would say, A quarter past thirteen. If ever you, by word of mouth, inquired of Mr. Forth, the waiter

Starting point is 02:32:37 somewhere in the south, he always sent you north. With little boys his beat along, he loved to stop and play. He loved to send old ladies wrong, and teach their feet to. astray. He would in frolic moments, when such mischief bent upon, take bishops up as betting men, bid ministers move on. Then all the worthy boys he knew he regularly licked, and always collared people who had had their pockets picked. He was not naturally bad or viciously inclined, but from his early youth he had a waggish turn of mind. the men of london grimly scowled with indignation wild the men of london gruffly growled but peter calmly smiled against this minion of the crown the swelling murmurs grew from camberwell to kentish town from roverheithe to cue still humoured he his wagsom turn and fed in various ways the coward rage that

Starting point is 02:33:52 dared to burn, but did not dare to blaze. Still, retribution has her day, although her flight is slow, one day that crusher lost his way near Poland Street, Soho. The haughty boy, too proud to ask to find his way resolved, and in the tangle of his task got more and more involved. The men of London overjoyed, came there to jeer their foe, and flocking crowds completely cloyed the mazes of Soho. The news on telegraphic wires sped swiftly o'er the lee.

Starting point is 02:34:34 Excursion trains from distant shires brought myriads to sea. For weeks he trod his self-made beats through Newport, Gerard, Bear, Greek, Rupert, Frith, Dean, Poland streets, and into golden square. But all alas in vain, for when he tried to learn the way of little boys or grown-up men, they none of them would say. Their eyes would flash,

Starting point is 02:35:07 their teeth would grind, their lips would tightly curl, they'd say, Thy way thyself must find, thou misdirecting churl. And similarly, also when he tried a foreign friend italians answered il balen the french no comprehend the russ would say with gleaming eye sevastopol and groan the greek said tu to toptomai topto taptine toptoe

Starting point is 02:35:43 to wander thus for many a year the crusher never ceased the men of london dropped a tear their anger was appeased at length exploring gangs were sent to find poor fourths remains a handsome grant by parliament was voted for their pains to seek the poor policemen out bold spirits volunteered and when they swore they'd solved out, the men of London cheered. And in a yard, dark, dank and drear they found him on the floor. It leads from Richmond buildings, near the royalty stage door. With brandy cold and brandy hot, they plied him, starved and wet, and made him sergeant on the spot, the men of London's pet. End of Ballard number 39, Peter the Wag, from the Babblads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard No. 40 of the Bab Ballards by W.S. Gilbert, read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman.

Starting point is 02:37:05 Ben Allah Ahmed, or The Fatal Tom. I once did know a Turkish man whom I upon a two-peer-back met. His name it was Effendi Khan. Bakshish Pasha Ben-Ala Ahmed. A doctor Brown I also knew, I've often eaten of his bounty. The Turk and he, they lived at Who, in Sussex, that delightful county. I knew a nice young lady there. Her name was Emily Macpherson.

Starting point is 02:37:40 And though she wore another's hair, she was an interesting person. The Turk adored the maid of who, although his husband. harim would have shocked her but brown adored that maiden too he was a most seductive doctor they'd follow her where'er she'd go a course of action most improper she neither knew by sight and so for neither of them cared a copper brown did not know that turkish male he might have been his sainted mother the people in this simple tale are total strangers to each other. One day that Turk, he sickened, sore, and suffered agonies oppressive. He threw himself upon the floor and rolled about in pain excessive. It made him moan, it made him groan, and almost wore him to a mummy. Why should I hesitate to own that pain was in his little tummy? At length a doctor came and rung, as Allah Ahmed had desired.

Starting point is 02:38:49 who felt his pulse looked up his tongue and hemmed and hoared and then inquired where is the pain that long has preyed upon you in so sad a way sir the turk he giggled blushed and said i don't exactly like to say sir come nonsense said good dr brown so this is turkish coinice is it you must contrive to fight it down come come sir please to be explained to be explained to be explicit. The Turk he shyly bit his thumb, and coyly blushed like one half-witted. The pain is in my little tum, he whispering at length admitted. Then take you this and take you that, your blood flows sluggish in its channel. You must get rid of all this fat, and wear my medicated flannel. You'll send for me when you're in need. My name is Brown, your life I've. You've been. Your life I've, saved it. My rival, shrieked the invalid, and drew a mighty sword and waved it. This to thy wizened Christian pest, aloud the Turk in frenzy yelled it, and drove right

Starting point is 02:40:05 through the doctor's chest, the sabre, and the hand that held it. The blow was a decisive one, and Dr. Brown grew deadly pasty. Now see the mischief that you've done, you turks are so extremely hasty there are two dr browns in who he's short and stout i'm tall and whizn you've been and run the wrong one through that's how the error has arisen the accident was thus explained apologies were only heard now at my mistake i'm really pained i am indeed upon my word now with me sir you shall be interred A mausoleum grand awaits me. Oh, pray don't say another word. I'm sure that more than compensates me. But perhaps, kind Turk, you're full inside.

Starting point is 02:41:00 There's room, said he, for any number. And so they laid them down and died. In proud Istanbul, they sleep their slumber. End of ballad number 40. Ben ala Ahmed, or the face. little tum from the bab ballads this recording is in the public domain ballad number forty one of the bab ballads by w s gilbert read for librivox dot org by graham redman the three kings of chikaraboo there were three niggers of chikaraboo pacifico bang bang pop chop who exclaimed one terribly sultry day

Starting point is 02:41:49 Oh, let's speak kings, in a humble way. The first was a highly accomplished bones, the next elicited banjo tones. The third was a quiet retiring chap who danced an excellent breakdown flap. We niggers, said they, have formed a plan by which, whenever we like we can, extemporise kingdoms near the beach, and then we'll call her a kingdom each. three casks from somebody else's stores shall represent our island shores their sides the ocean wide shall lave their heads just topping the briny wave great britain's navy scours the sea and everywhere her ships they be she'll recognise our rank perhaps when she discovers we're royal chaps if to her skirts you want to cling it's quite sufficient that your own a king. She does not push inquiry far to learn what sort of king you are.

Starting point is 02:42:56 A ship of several thousand tons, and mounting 70-something guns, plowed every year the ocean blue, discovering kings and countries new. The brave rear-admiral Bailey Pip, commanding that magnificent ship, perceived one day his glasses through the kings that came from Chikaraboo. Dear eyes, said Admiral Pip, I see three flourishing islands on our lee. And, bless me, most remarkable thing, on every island stands a king. Come lower the Admiral's gig, he cried, and over the dancing waves I'll glide, that low obeisance I may do to those three kings of Chikaraboo.

Starting point is 02:43:44 The Admiral pulled to the Islands three, the Kings saluted him graciously, The Admiral, pleased at his welcome warm, unrolled a printed alliance form. Your Majesty, sign me this, I pray, I come in a friendly kind of way, I come, if you please, with the best intents, and Queen Victoria's compliments. The kings were pleased as they well could be, the most retiring of the three in a cellar flap to his joy gave vent with a banjo bones accompaniment. The great rear Admiral Bailey Pip embarked on board his jolly big ship. Blue Peter flew from his lofty fore and off he sailed to his native shore.

Starting point is 02:44:34 Admiral Pip directly went to the lord at the head of the government, who made him by a stroke of a quill barrened a pip of Piptonville. The College of Herald's permission yield that he should quarter upon his shield three islands vert on a field of blue, with the pregnant motto, Chikaraboo. Ambassadors, yes, and attaches too, are going to sail for Chikaraboo, and see, on the good ship's crowded deck a bishop who's going out there on spec. and let us all hope that blissful things may come of alliance with darky kings, and may we never, whatever we do, declare a war with Chikaraboo. End of Ballad No. 41, the three kings of Chikaraboo from the Babelads. This recording is in the public domain.

Starting point is 02:45:36 Ballad No. 42 of the Babelads by W.S. Gilbert. read for librivox dot org by graham redman joe go lightly or the first lord's daughter attar but poorly prized long shambling and unsightly thrashed bullied and despised was wretched joe go lightly he bore a workhouse brand no par or mar had claimed him the beadle found him and the board of guardians named him Perhaps some princess's son, a beggar, perhaps his mother. He rather thought the one, I rather think the other. He liked his ship at sea. He loved the salt sea water. He worshipped junk, and he adored the First Lord's daughter.

Starting point is 02:46:35 The First Lord's daughter, proud, snubbed earls and vicounts nightly. She sneered at Bart's, aloud, spurned poor Joe go lightly. When'er he sailed afar upon a channel cruise, he unpacked his light guitar and sang this ballad, Boosy. The moon is on the sea, willow. The wind blows towards the lee, willow. But though I sigh and sob and cry, no Lady Jane for me, Willow.

Starting point is 02:47:12 she says twer folly quite willow for me to wed a white willow whose lot is cast before the mast and possibly she's right willow his skipper captain joyce he gave him many a rating and almost lost his voice from thus expostulating lay after you lubber do what's come to that young man joe below lay vast heaving you. Do kindly stop that banjo. I wish I do, oh, law, you'd ship aboard a trader. Are you a sailor or a negro serenader? But still the stricken lad aloft or on his pillow, howled forth in accent sad, his aggravating willow. stern love of duty had been Joyce's chiefest beauty, says he, I love that lad, but duty, dammy duty, twelve months black hole, I say, where daylight never flashes, and always twice a day a good six dozen lashes.

Starting point is 02:48:29 But Joseph had a mate, a sailor stout and lusty, a man of low estate, but stout, singularly trusty. Says he, cheer up, young Joe, I'll tell you what I martyr. To that fuss lord, I'll go and axe him for his d'arter. To that fuss lord, I'll go and say you love her dearly. And Joe said, weeping low, I wish you would, sincerely. That sailor to that lord went, soon as he had landed, and of his own accord an interview demanded. Says he with Siemens' role, My captain, what's a tartar, Gov Joe, twelve months black hole for lovering your daughter.

Starting point is 02:49:20 He loves Miss Lady Jane. I own she is his betters. But if you'll gine them twain, They'll free him from his fetters. And if so be as how you'll let her come aboard ship, 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 had fared joe only whispered willow and for that dreadful crime young sailors learn to shun it he's working out his time in six months he'll have done it end of ballad number forty-two

Starting point is 02:50:07 to Joe Golightly or the First Lord's Daughter from the Bab Ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 43 of the Babelads by W.S. Gilbert. Read for Librivox.org by Graham Redman. To the terrestrial globe by a miserable wretch. Roll on, thou ball, roll on. pathless realms of space, roll on. What though I'm in a sorry case, what though I cannot meet my bills, what though I suffer toothache's ills, what though I swallow countless pills, never you mind,

Starting point is 02:50:59 roll on. Roll on, thou ball, roll on. Through seas of inky air, roll on. It's true I've got no shirts to wear. It's true my butcher's bill is due. It's true my prospects all look blue. But don't let that unsettle you. Never you mind. Roll on. It rolls on. End of ballad number 43, to the terrestrial globe by a miserable wretch from the bad ballads. This recording is in the public domain. Ballard number 44 of the Bad Ballards by W.S. Gilbert. Read for Librevox. org by Graham Redman. Gentle Alice Brown. It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown. Her father was the terror of a small Italian town. Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable, old thing. But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for.

Starting point is 02:52:15 to sing. As Alice was a sitting at her windowsill one day, a beautiful young gentleman he chanced to pass that way. She cast her eyes upon him, and he looked so good and true, that she thought, I could be happy with a gentleman like you. And every morning passed her house that cream of gentlemen, she knew she might expect him at a quarter unto ten, a sort of a sort of, her in the custom-house. It was his daily road. The custom-house was fifteen minutes walk from her abode. But Alice was a pious girl who knew it wasn't wise to look at strange young sorters with expressive purple eyes. So she sought the village priest to whom her family confessed, the priest by whom their little sins were carefully assessed.

Starting point is 02:53:13 "'Oh, holy father,' Alice said, "'t would grieve you, would it not, "'to discover that I was a most disreputable lot. "'Of all unhappy sinners, I'm the most unhappy one.' "'The Padre said, "'Whatever have you been and gone and done?' "'I have helped Mama to steal a little kiddie from its dad. "'I've assisted dear papa in cutting up a little lad.

Starting point is 02:53:41 I've planned a little burglary and forged a little check, and slain a little baby for the coral on its neck. The worthy pastor heaved a sigh and dropped a silent tear, and said, you mustn't judge yourself too heavily, my dear. It's wrong to murder babies' little corals for to fleece, but sins like these one expiates at half a crown apiece. "'Girls will be girls. You're very young and flighty in your mind. Old heads upon young shoulders we "'we must not expect to find. We mustn't be too hard upon these little girlish tricks.

Starting point is 02:54:25 "'Let's see. Five crimes at half a crown. Exactly twelve and six.' "'Oh, father,' little Alice cried, "'your kindness makes me weep. You do these little things for me, so singularly cheap. Your thoughtful liberality I never can forget. But, oh, there is another crime I haven't mentioned yet. A pleasant-looking gentleman with pretty purple eyes I've noticed at my window as I've sat a catching flies. He passes by it every day as certain as can be. I blushed to say I've winked at him, and he has winked at me. "'For shame,' said Father Paul, "'my erring daughter, on my word,

Starting point is 02:55:16 "'this is the most distressing news that I have ever heard. "'Why, naughty girl, your excellent papa has pledged your hand "'to a promising young robber, the lieutenant of his band. "'This dreadful piece of news will pain your worthy parents so. "'They are the most remunerative customers, I know, For many, many years they've kept starvation from my doors. I never knew so criminal a family as yours. The common country folk in this insipid neighbourhood have nothing to confess.

Starting point is 02:55:52 They're so ridiculously good. And if you marry anyone respectable at all, why, your reform? And what will then become of Father Paul? The worthy priest he up and drew his cowl upon his crows. and started off in haste to tell the news to robber brown to tell him how his daughter who was now for marriage fit had winked upon a sorter who reciprocated it good robber brown he muffled up his anger pretty well he said i have a notion and that notion i will tell i will nab this gay young sorter terrify him into fits and get my gentle wife to tell chop him into little bits. I've studied human nature, and I know a thing or two. Though a girl may fondly love a living gent, as many do, a feeling of disgust upon her senses there will fall when she

Starting point is 02:56:53 looks upon his body chopped particularly small. He traced that gallant sorter to a still suburban square. He watched his opportunity and seized him unaware. he took a life-preserver and he hit him on the head and mrs brown dissected him before she went to bed and pretty little alice grew more settled in her mind she never more was guilty of a weakness of the kind until at length good robber brown bestowed her pretty hand on the promising young robber the lieutenant of his band End of Ballard No. 44. Gentle Alice Brown. And of the Bab ballads.

Classic Audiobook Collection - The Bab Ballads by William S. Gilbert ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]

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