Songs of a SavoyardGilbert, W. S. (William Schwenck)
General
Songs of a Savoyard
Gilbert, W. S. (William Schwenck)
English wit and humor; Humorous poetry, English; Songs, English -- Texts
His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,
His brow with scorn be rung;
He never should bow down to a domineering frown,
Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.
His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,
His hair should twirl and his face should scowl;
His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude!
A MAN WHO WOULD WOO A FAIR MAID
A MAN who would woo a fair maid,
Should ’prentice himself to the trade;
And study all day,
In methodical way,
How to flatter, cajole, and persuade.
He should ’prentice himself at fourteen
And practise from morning to e’en;
And when he’s of age,
If he will, I’ll engage,
He may capture the heart of a queen!
It is purely a matter of skill,
Which all may attain if they will:
But every Jack
He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
If he’s made the best use of his time,
His twig he’ll so carefully lime
That every bird
Will come down at his word.
Whatever its plumage and clime.
He must learn that the thrill of a touch
May mean little, or nothing, or much;
It’s an instrument rare,
To be handled with care,
And ought to be treated as such.
It is purely a matter of skill,
Which all may attain if they will:
But every Jack,
He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
Then a glance may be timid or free;
It will vary in mighty degree,
From an impudent stare
To a look of despair
That no maid without pity can see.
And a glance of despair is no guide—
It may have its ridiculous side;
It may draw you a tear
Or a box on the ear;
You can never be sure till you’ve tried.
It is purely a matter of skill,
Which all may attain if they will:
But every Jack
He must study the knack
If he wants to make sure of his Jill!
THE SORCERER’S SONG
OH! my name is JOHN WELLINGTON WELLS—
I’m a dealer in magic and spells,
In blessings and curses,
And ever-filled purses,
In prophecies, witches, and knells!
If you want a proud foe to “make tracks”—
If you’d melt a rich uncle in wax—
You’ve but to look in
On our resident Djinn,
Number seventy, Simmery Axe.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account