Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV
General
Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV
Parodies
When I first put this uniform on,
I said, as I looked in the glass,
“It’s one to a million
That any civilian,
My figure and form will surpass.
Gold lace has a charm for the fair,
And I’ve plenty of that, and to spare,
While a lover’s professions,
When uttered in Hessians,
Are eloquent everywhere!”
A fact that I counted upon,
When I first put this uniform on!
_Chorus of Dragoons_――
By a simple coincidence, few
Could ever have reckoned upon,
The same thing occurred to me too,
When I first put this uniform on!
* * * * *
THE IMPECUNIOUS OFFICER.
But I’m bound to confess that it comes rather hard
Upon those who’ve not much but their pay,
To have all the Horse Guards commands to regard
As to how we’ve ourselves to array.
It is now――let me see――close on twenty-one years
Since I had my regimentals to don;
And, oh, how they’ve changed them,
And re-re-arranged them,
Since I first put this uniform on.
The Duke, our commander, an excellent man,
Has seemingly spent all his days
In trying original methods to plan
For putting on lace in new ways;
For cutting out tunics and altering caps,
To similar lengths he has gone;
Scores of times he has changed them,
And re-re-arranged them,
Since I first put this uniform on!
_Truth, Christmas Number._ 1882.
――――
SONG BY PRINCE HENRY OF BATTENBERG.
“When I first had the garments to don,
Which are worn by the Highlander bold,
The kilt I’d to wear
Left my kneecaps so bare,
That I shiver’d and shook with the cold!
But for dear mamma-in-law’s sake,
I continued to shiver and shake;
Yes, though the keen breeze
Seem’d my marrow to freeze,
Her favour I knew was at stake
And ’twas this that I reckoned upon,
When I still kept that uniform on.
“But though I continued to wear
Those very remarkable clothes,
I am sorry to say
There was scarcely a day
That I did not use strong (German) oaths
For the mists were so damp and so chill,
And the wind grew so cuttingly shrill,
That at length I was fain
To in sorrow complain
That the kilt would me certainly kill――
A fact p’rhaps not counted upon
When they put me that Highland dress on.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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