The Complete Plays of Gilbert and SullivanGilbert, W. S. (William Schwenck)
General
The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan
Gilbert, W. S. (William Schwenck)
Operas -- Librettos
GENERAL: Oh, men of dark and dismal fate,
Forgo your cruel employ,
Have pity on my lonely state,
I am an orphan boy!
KING/SAMUEL: An orphan boy?
GENERAL: An orphan boy!
PIRATES: How sad, an orphan boy.
GENERAL: These children whom you see
Are all that I can call my own!
PIRATES: Poor fellow!
GENERAL: Take them away from me,
And I shall be indeed alone.
PIRATES: Poor fellow!
GENERAL: If pity you can feel,
Leave me my sole remaining joy—
See, at your feet they kneel;
Your hearts you cannot steel
Against the sad, sad tale of the lonely orphan boy!
PIRATES: (sobbing) Poor fellow!
See at our feet they kneel;
Our hearts we cannot steel
Against the sad, sad tale of the lonely orphan boy!
SAMUEL: The orphan boy!
add KING: The orphan boy!
See at our feet they kneel;
Our hearts we cannot steel
Against the tale of the lonely orphan boy!
PIRATES: Poor fellow!
ENSEMBLE
GENERAL (aside) GIRLS (aside) PIRATES
(aside)
I'm telling a terrible He is telling a terrible If he's telling
a
story story, terrible
story
But it doesn't diminish Which will tend to He shall die by
a death
my glory; diminish his that is gory
For they would have glory; Yes, one of the
taken my daughters Though they would have cruellest
Over the billowy waters, taken his slaughters
daughters That ever were
known in
Over the billowy waters, these
waters;
If I hadn't, in elegant It is easy, in elegant It is easy, in
elegant
diction, diction. diction,
Indulged in an innocent To call it an innocent To call it an
innocent
fiction, fiction, fiction
Which is not in the same But it comes in the same But it comes in
the same
category category category
As a regular terrible As telling a regular As telling a
regular
story. terrible story. terrible
story.
KING: Although our dark career
Sometimes involves the crime of stealing,
We rather think that we're
Not altogether void of feeling.
Although we live by strife,
We're always sorry to begin it,
For what, we ask, is life
Without a touch of Poetry in it?
(all kneel)
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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