Days and Nights in London; Or, Studies in Black and Gray — John Shaqi
Days and Nights in London; Or, Studies in Black and GrayRitchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
History
Days and Nights in London; Or, Studies in Black and Gray
Ritchie, J. Ewing (James Ewing)
London (England) -- Social conditions; London (England) -- Social life and customs
it, and the waiters are there expressly to hand it round, and a
good-natured man of course does not like to see waiters standing idle,
and accordingly gives his orders; and besides, it is an axiom in
political economy that the supply creates the demand.
Here are some of the verses I have heard sung with immense applause:
The spiritualists only can work by night,
They keep it dark;
For their full-bodied spirits cannot stand the light,
So they keep it dark;
They profess to call _spirits_, but I call for _rum_
And _brandy_ or _gin_ as the best medi_um_
For raising the spirits whenever I’m glum;
But keep it dark.
The utter silliness of many of the songs is shown by the following, “sung
with immense success,” as I read in the programme, by Herbert Campbell:
I’ve read of little Jack Horner,
I’ve read of Jack and Jill,
And old Mother Hubbard,
Who went to the cupboard
To give her poor dog a pill;
But the best is Cowardy Custard,
Who came to awful grief
Through eating a plate of mustard
Without any plate of beef.
_Chorus_.
Cowardy Cowardy Custard, oh dear me,
Swallowed his father’s mustard, oh dear me—
He swallowed the pot, and he collared it hot;
For, much to his disgust,
The mustard swelled, Cowardy yelled,
Then Cowardy Cowardy bust.
This is supposed, I presume, to be a good song. What are we to think of
the people who call it so? It is difficult to imagine the depth of
imbecility thus reached on the part of singer and hearers, and is a fine
illustration of the influence of beer and “baccy” as regards softening
the brain. The music-hall singer degrades his audience. Even when he
sings of passing events he panders as much as possible to the passions
and prejudices of the mob. His words are redolent of claptrap and fury,
and are a mischievous element in the formation of public opinion. Heroes
and patriots are not made in music-halls. But rogues and drunkards and
vagabonds—and lazy, listless lives, destitute of all moral aim. There
are respectable people who go to music-halls—women as well as men—but
they get little good there. Indeed, it would be a miracle if they did.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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