Poems by William Schwenck Gilbert

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At the outset I may mention it's my sovereign intention
A GENTLEMAN of City fame
A man who would woo a fair maid,
Were I a king in very truth,
Brightly dawns our wedding day;
Were I thy bride,
When you're lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is taboo'd by anxiety,
Take a pair of sparkling eyes,
I love a man who'll smile and joke
When maiden loves, she sits and sighs,
Oh, is there not one maiden breast
A wonderful joy our eyes to bless,
I've painted Shakespeare all my life -
Society has quite forsaken all her wicked courses,
Oh! listen to the tale of little Annie Protheroe.
An Actor sits in doubtful gloom,
An Actor sits in doubtful gloom,
BABETTE she was a fisher gal,
Of all the good attorneys who
I once did know a Turkish man
Spurn not the nobly born
Bob Polter was a navvy, and
Braid the raven hair,
Oh, big was the bosom of brave ALUM BEY,
Of all the ships upon the blue,
Two better friends you wouldn't pass
Oh, that my soul its gods could see
Now, Marco dear,
The air is charged with amatory numbers
Emily Jane was a nursery maid,
The Ballyshannon foundered off the coast of Cariboo,
A clergyman in Berkshire dwelt,
The bravest names for fire and flames,
It was a robber's daughter, and her name was Alice Brown;
They intend to send a wire
Although of native maids the cream,
A leafy cot, where no dry rot
Haunted? Ay, in a social way
Haunted? Ay, in a social way
He loves! If in the bygone years
My wedded life
The sun was setting in its wonted west,
Bold-faced ranger
Is life a boon?
A tar, but poorly prized,
JOHN courted lovely MARY ANN,
King Borria Bungalee Boo
There lived a King, as I've been told,
The earth has armies plenty,
First you're born - and I'll be bound you
When the buds are blossoming,
Some seven men form an Association
EARL JOYCE he was a kind old party
Mr. Blake was a regular out-and-out hardened sinner,
Oh, listen to the tale of Mister William, if you please,
The other night, from cares exempt,
Bedecked in fashion trim,
When rival adorers come courting a maid,
It's my opinion - though I own
Only a dancing girl,
To a garden full of posies
When you find you're a broken-down critter,
A proud Pasha was BAILEY BEN,
Policeman PETER forth I drag
"Come, collar this bad man -
What time the poet hath hymned
The Sun, whose rays
If my action's stiff and crude,
When I went to the Bar as a very young man,
I cannot tell what this love may be
Sir Guy was a doughty crusader,
Of all the youths I ever saw
Fear no unlicensed entry,
Comes the broken flower -
Sorry her lot who loves too well,
Comes a train of little ladies
Letters, letters, letters, letters!
If you're anxious for to shine in the high aesthetic line, as a man of culture rare,
A lady fair, of lineage high,
Weary at heart and extremely ill
Whene'er I poke
It was a Bishop bold,
From east and south the holy clan
I often wonder whether you
A British tar is a soaring soul,
I'm old, my dears, and shrivelled with age, and work, and grief,
I sing a legend of the sea,
Sad is that woman's lot who, year by year,
When all night long a chap remains
On all Arcadia's sunny plain,
I shipped, d'ye see, in a Revenue sloop,
If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am:
A tenor, all singers above
In enterprise of martial kind,
He is an Englishman!
Once a fairy
Oh, foolish fay,
Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,
Sighing softly to the river
When I was a lad I served a term
I knew a boor a clownish card,
Lord B. was a nobleman bold,
O'er unreclaimed suburban clays
When the night wind howls in the chimney cowls, and the bat in the moonlight flies,
There grew a little flower
An actor Gibbs, of Drury Lane -
If you want a receipt for that popular mystery
I stole the Prince, and I brought him here,
When Britain really ruled the waves
A more humane Mikado never
A hive of bees, as I've heard say,
When I, good friends, was called to the Bar,
The story of Frederick Gowler,
The law is the true embodiment
When first my old, old love I knew,
A magnet hung in a hardware shop,
Some time ago, in simple verse
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
Come mighty Must!
I am the very pattern of a modern Major-Gineral.
When man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye,
Perhaps already you may know
A monarch is pestered with cares,
Vast empty shell!
Old Peter led a wretched life -
I've often thought that headstrong youths,
A BISHOP once I will not name his see
I've wisdom from the East and from the West,
Quixotic is his enterprise, and hopeless his adventure is,
When a felon's not engaged in his employment
Oh what a fund of joy jocund lies hid in harmless hoaxes!
(To be sung to the Air of the "Whistling Oyster.")
A rich advowson, highly prized,
Dr. Belville was regarded as the Crichton of his age:
List while the poet trolls
Oh, gentlemen, listen, I pray;
I go away this blessed day,
No nobler captain ever trod
Oh! my name is John Wellington Wells
Strike the concertina's melancholy string!
On a tree by the river a little tomtit
The law is the true embodiment
Try we life long, we can never
"'Tis now some thirty-seven years ago
There were three niggers of Chickeraboo
A troubadour he played
An excellent soldier who's worthy the name
Good children, list, if you're inclined,
Now, Jurymen, hear my advice
A maiden sat at her window wide,
Rising early in the morning,
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
If you're anxious for to shine in the high æsthetic line, as a man of culture rare,
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
In all the towns and cities fair
(To be sung to the Air of "An 'Orrible Tale.")
Come with me, little maid,
Oh! little maid! (I do not know your name
"Gentle, modest little flower,
Roll on, thou ball, roll on!
My boy, you may take it from me,
When a merry maiden marries,
When I first put this uniform on,
Would you know the kind of maid