DOI Heft:
January to June, 1846
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16542#0231
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
233
Sing hey, sing ho,
nncDATi^ nrrDATc-e Blow high, blow low,
UFtKAIIU UtbAltb. I'm the regular tar for all weathers.
contemporary, the Times, observing the
recent tendency of several members of
Parliament to introduce songs into their
speeches, has suggested " the substitution
of operatic for elocutionary perform-
ances," by way of enlivening the dull
monotony of the debates in the House of
Commons. We think the notion an ex-
ceedingly happy one, and in order that
the public may judge of the effect of
the carrying out of the project, we have
taken, as a plot, a debate on the Corn
Laws, and thrown it into a
BALLAD OPERA.
Mr. Miles. Oh ! it's all very well; but the same breeze which blows
you into harbour, Master Jem, gives a sad blow to the British Oak,
under which our Glorious Constitution has been sheltered for many a
The stage represents the House of Commons, only partially occupied, with jong centUIy_
Members and Officers. The Speaker is in tlie chair, and the curtain
rises to the symphony of the following
chorus.
Alas ! how sad is the Member's fate !
Another long night of dull debate. and spare that tree
But as long as some one will talking keep,
What matter ? The Member can go to sleep.
Then, hurrah for the speeches, heavy as lead ;
They 're almost as good as a downy bed-
Usher, Usher ! in you we confide ;
Wake us up in time to divide.
Borthwick commences . all is right ;
Slumber comes o'er us. Good night, good night !
All's well! Good night!
Sir James Graham. Pooh ! Master Miles, the British Oak is a
mere oaks.
Mr. Miles. I hate such heartless ribaldry. It falls upon mine ear
like the knell of the Constitution. You may sneer as you will at the
British Oak, but I wish you would act like the woodman in the ballad,
(He recites, ivith much emotion, to a sort of recitative accompaniment)
Woodman, spare that tree,
I honour every bough ;
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
[Members wake up on all sides during the preceding recitative, and ai
its conclusion burst into the following finale.
chords.
{The various Members tvho have been joining in the chorus, fall off to T1^e drowsy murmurs, gently gUding
sleep, and the symphony dies away in the distance. Through the Through the House fromnght to left,
last few bars of it the voice of Borthwick is heard murmuring Wow remind us ot dividing
the following sentences:— I Of patience we are quite bereft.
, I Then raise, from side to side,
Alas ! my unhappy country ; thou hast lost thy confidence in public The shout " Divide divide ! "
i men ; the principles they have been advocating for thirty years, are
| scattered to the winds, like the leaves of autumn. Oh! those leaves of chorus of protectionists.
! autumn, how they rustle around me, like the scattered fragments of
broken hopes, which we never can collect again.
ballad.
Oh ! how the memory of the past
The human spirit grieves,
To see past pledges idly cast
Away like autumn leaves !
In vain the bosom glows with fires
Of patriotic flame ;
To see their sons, our English sires
Would blush with honest shame.
The once illustrious British Oak
Is shaken by the gale ;
The British Lion is a joke—
He wags in vain his tail.
No word by statesmen spoken now,
The hearer e'er believes ;
Broken is every former vow,
Scatter'd like autumn leaves.
Sir James Graham. Well, well, 'tis idle now commenting o'er the past
Believe me, Master Borthwick, there is more courage in acknowledg-
ing an error than in sticking to it. I'm an old sailor, look you, Master
Borthwick ; a regular tar for all weathers ; and it's only by sailing
with the wind that we can succeed in weathering the storm.
song and hornpipe.
My name's fickle Jem, do you see,
In my cap I don't care for fine feathers ;
My pride it is always to be,
The regular tar for all weathers.
IT a breeze rises up in the west,
Before it I'm ready to sail,
Because it is certainly best
To go with the strength of the gale.
To have our way, 'tis now our turn
We won't divide—adjourn, adjourn.
recitative.-the speaker.
These noisy shouts on wild confusion border :
Say, shall I put the question ? Order, order !
The wishes of the House, pray, let me learn.
chorus Or free-traders.
Let us divide.
chorus OF protectionists.
No ! no ! let us adjourn.
general chorus.
Free Traders. Confusion, delusion,
On every side ;
'Tis bootless and fruitless-
Divide, divide !
Protectionists. While ruin is brewin'
With rage we burn ;
Our will now, is still now,
Adjourn ! adjourn !
{In the general confusion the Speaker intimates, by his gestures, that
the Ayes have it, and the House adjowrns.
233
Sing hey, sing ho,
nncDATi^ nrrDATc-e Blow high, blow low,
UFtKAIIU UtbAltb. I'm the regular tar for all weathers.
contemporary, the Times, observing the
recent tendency of several members of
Parliament to introduce songs into their
speeches, has suggested " the substitution
of operatic for elocutionary perform-
ances," by way of enlivening the dull
monotony of the debates in the House of
Commons. We think the notion an ex-
ceedingly happy one, and in order that
the public may judge of the effect of
the carrying out of the project, we have
taken, as a plot, a debate on the Corn
Laws, and thrown it into a
BALLAD OPERA.
Mr. Miles. Oh ! it's all very well; but the same breeze which blows
you into harbour, Master Jem, gives a sad blow to the British Oak,
under which our Glorious Constitution has been sheltered for many a
The stage represents the House of Commons, only partially occupied, with jong centUIy_
Members and Officers. The Speaker is in tlie chair, and the curtain
rises to the symphony of the following
chorus.
Alas ! how sad is the Member's fate !
Another long night of dull debate. and spare that tree
But as long as some one will talking keep,
What matter ? The Member can go to sleep.
Then, hurrah for the speeches, heavy as lead ;
They 're almost as good as a downy bed-
Usher, Usher ! in you we confide ;
Wake us up in time to divide.
Borthwick commences . all is right ;
Slumber comes o'er us. Good night, good night !
All's well! Good night!
Sir James Graham. Pooh ! Master Miles, the British Oak is a
mere oaks.
Mr. Miles. I hate such heartless ribaldry. It falls upon mine ear
like the knell of the Constitution. You may sneer as you will at the
British Oak, but I wish you would act like the woodman in the ballad,
(He recites, ivith much emotion, to a sort of recitative accompaniment)
Woodman, spare that tree,
I honour every bough ;
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'll protect it now.
[Members wake up on all sides during the preceding recitative, and ai
its conclusion burst into the following finale.
chords.
{The various Members tvho have been joining in the chorus, fall off to T1^e drowsy murmurs, gently gUding
sleep, and the symphony dies away in the distance. Through the Through the House fromnght to left,
last few bars of it the voice of Borthwick is heard murmuring Wow remind us ot dividing
the following sentences:— I Of patience we are quite bereft.
, I Then raise, from side to side,
Alas ! my unhappy country ; thou hast lost thy confidence in public The shout " Divide divide ! "
i men ; the principles they have been advocating for thirty years, are
| scattered to the winds, like the leaves of autumn. Oh! those leaves of chorus of protectionists.
! autumn, how they rustle around me, like the scattered fragments of
broken hopes, which we never can collect again.
ballad.
Oh ! how the memory of the past
The human spirit grieves,
To see past pledges idly cast
Away like autumn leaves !
In vain the bosom glows with fires
Of patriotic flame ;
To see their sons, our English sires
Would blush with honest shame.
The once illustrious British Oak
Is shaken by the gale ;
The British Lion is a joke—
He wags in vain his tail.
No word by statesmen spoken now,
The hearer e'er believes ;
Broken is every former vow,
Scatter'd like autumn leaves.
Sir James Graham. Well, well, 'tis idle now commenting o'er the past
Believe me, Master Borthwick, there is more courage in acknowledg-
ing an error than in sticking to it. I'm an old sailor, look you, Master
Borthwick ; a regular tar for all weathers ; and it's only by sailing
with the wind that we can succeed in weathering the storm.
song and hornpipe.
My name's fickle Jem, do you see,
In my cap I don't care for fine feathers ;
My pride it is always to be,
The regular tar for all weathers.
IT a breeze rises up in the west,
Before it I'm ready to sail,
Because it is certainly best
To go with the strength of the gale.
To have our way, 'tis now our turn
We won't divide—adjourn, adjourn.
recitative.-the speaker.
These noisy shouts on wild confusion border :
Say, shall I put the question ? Order, order !
The wishes of the House, pray, let me learn.
chorus Or free-traders.
Let us divide.
chorus OF protectionists.
No ! no ! let us adjourn.
general chorus.
Free Traders. Confusion, delusion,
On every side ;
'Tis bootless and fruitless-
Divide, divide !
Protectionists. While ruin is brewin'
With rage we burn ;
Our will now, is still now,
Adjourn ! adjourn !
{In the general confusion the Speaker intimates, by his gestures, that
the Ayes have it, and the House adjowrns.