Dickens's England (37 page)
There were three or four of these songs sung in the course of the evening, each one being encored, and then changed. One written about âPineapple rock' was the grand treat of the night, and offered greater scope to the rhyming powers of the author than any of the others. In this, not a single chance had been missed; ingenuity had been exerted to its utmost, lest an obscene thought should be passed by, and it was absolutely awful to behold the relish with which the young ones jumped to the hideous meaning of the verses.
Henry Mayhew,
London Labour and the London Poor,
2 vols 1851â2; 4 vols 1861â2
SOME MUSIC-HALL SONGS
(I)
A version of âVillikins and his Dinah', for performance:
Verse: | It is of a rich merchant I am going for to tell, Who had for a daughter an uncommon nice young gal; Her name it was Dinah, just sixteen years old, With a werry large chest full of silver and gold. Singin' Too-ra-li, too-ra-li, too-ra-li-ay. |
Spoken: | Chorus, which I sings by myself. |
Chorus: | Too-ra-li, too-ra-li, too-ra-li-ay. |
Verse: | Now as Dinah was a-walking in the garding one day, |
Spoken | It was the front garding. |
Verse: | The father comed up to her and thus to her did say, âGo dress yourself, Dinah, in gor-ge-us array, |
Spoken: | Take your hair out of paper. |
Verse: | And I'll bring you home a hus-i-band both gal-li-ant and gay. Singin' . . . |
Spoken: | In favour of the pari-ent's desire, and the wedding breakfast he was about to order of the pastrycook round the corner. |
Chorus: | Too-ra-li . . . |
Spoken: | Now this is what the daughter said to her pari-ent in reply. |
Verse: | âOh, father, dear father,' the daughter she said, I don't feel incli-ned to be mar-ri-ed; And all my large fortin I'd gladly give o'er, If you'll let me live single a year or two more, Singin' . . . |
Spoken: | Wheedling and persuasive chorus to the author of her being. |
Chorus: | Too-ra-li . . . |
Spoken: | Now this is what the paternal pari-ent said again to the daughter. |
Verse: | âGo, go, boldest daughter, â the pari-ent replied, If you don't feel inclined to be this young man's bride, |
Spoken: | He was a merchant pieman from Abyssinia and sold baked potatoes in Timbuctoo for the Hottentots. |
Verse: | âI'll give all your large fortin to the nearest of kin, And you'll not get the benefit, not one single pin, Singin' . . . |
Spoken: | Chorus of the outraged pari-ent against his offspring. |
Chorus: | Singin' . . . |
Spoken: | Now this is the most melancholy part, and shows what his offspring was drove to, in conskivence of the ferocity of the parient. |
Verse: | Now as Villikins was a-walking the garding all round |
Spoken: | It was the back garding this time. |
Verse: | He spied his dear Dinah lying dead on the ground, With a cup of cold pizen all down by her side, And a billy-do which said as 'ow 'twas by pizen she died. |
Spoken: | The label was marked, British Brandy. |
Verse: | Singin' Too-ra-li . . . |
Spoken: | Mournful and desponding chorus of sympathising sparrows. |
Chorus: | Singin' Too-ra-li . . . |
Spoken: | This is what the father did on the discovery. |
Verse: | Then he kissed her cold corpses a thousand times o'er, And called her his dear Dinah, though she was no more; Then he swallered up the pizen, and sung a short stave - |
Spoken: | Neither agreed with him. |
Verse: | And Villikins and his Dinah were laid in one grave. Singin', together, Too-ra-li . . . |
Spoken: | Dismal and duplicated chorus on the double disaster. |
Chorus: | Too-ra-li, too-ra-li, too-ra-li-ay. |
 |
Anon., Early Victorian
(II)
âCushie Butterfield' [from the north-east]
Ah's a broken-hearted keelman and Ah's ower heed in luv
Wiv a young lass in Gateshead and Ah call her me duv.
Hor neem's Cushie Butterfield and she sells yaller clay,
And hor cousin is a muckman and they call 'im Tom Gray.
Chorus:
She's a big lass an' a bonny lass an' she likes hor beer,
An' they call her Cushie Butterfield an' Ah wish she was here.
Hor eyes is like two holes in a blanket burnt through,
An' hor broos of a mornin' wad spine a young coo, Â Â Â Â Â Â [cow]
An' when Ah hear hor shoutin', âWill ye buy any clay?'
Like a candyman's [bailiff's] trumpet, it steals me young heart away.
Chorus:
. . .
Ye'll oft see hor doon at Sangit when the fresh herrin' comes in,
She's like a bagful of sawdust tied roond wi' a string'
She wears big galoshes tee [too], an' hor stockins once was white,
An' hor big-gown it's lilac, an' her hat's niver strite.
Chorus:
. . .
When Ah axed hor to marry us, she started ter laff;
âNoo, none o' yer monkey tricks, for Ah like nee sic chaff.'
Then she started a-blubbin' an' roared like a bull,
An' the chaps on the Keel sez Ah's nowt but a fool.
Chorus:
. . .
She sez the chap 'at gets us 'ill ha' ter work ivry day,
An' when he comes heem at neet he'll hae to gan an' seek clay,
An' when he's away seekin't Ah'll make baals an' sing,
O weel may the keel row that ma laddie's in.
Chorus:
She's a big lass an' a bonny lass an' she likes hor beer,
An' they call her Cushie Butterfield an' Ah wish she was heer.
George Ridley, mid-nineteenth century
(III)
If you saw my little backyard, âWot a pretty spot!' you'd cry â
It's a picture on a summer day;
Wiv the turnip tops and cabbages wot people don't buy
I makes it on a Sunday look all gay.
The neighbours fink I grows 'em, and you'd fancy you're in Kent,
Or at Epsom, if you gaze into the mews;
It's a wonder as the landlord doesn't want to raise the rent,
Because we've got such nobby distant views. Â Â Â Â Â Â [superior]
Oh! it really is a werry pretty garden,
And Chingford to the eastward could be seen;
Wiv a ladder and some glasses,
You could see to 'Ackney Marshes,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.
We're as countrified as can be wiv a clothes-prop for a tree,
The tub-stool makes a rustic little stile;
Every time the blooming clock strikes there's a cuckoo sings to me,
And I've painted up âTo Leather Lane, a mile'.
Wiv tom-ar-toes and wiv radishes wot 'adn't any sale,
The backyard looks a puffick mass o' bloom;
And I've made a little beehive wiv some beetles in a pail,
And a pitchfork wiv the 'andle o' the broom.
Oh! it really is a werry pretty garden,
An' the Rye 'Ouse from the cockloft could be seen, Â Â Â Â Â Â [garret in roof]
Where the chickweed man undresses
To bathe among the watercresses,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.
There's the bunny shares 'is egg-box wiv the cross-eyed cock and hen,
Though they 'as got the pip, and 'im the morf; [morphew, scurf]
In a dog's-house on the line-post there was pigeons nine or ten,
Till someone took a brick and knocked it off.
The dustcart though it seldom comes, is just like 'arvest 'ome,
And we mean to rig a dairy up some'ow â
Put the donkey in the wash-house wiv some imitation 'orns,
For we're teaching 'im to moo just like a cow.
Oh! it really is a werry pretty garden,
And 'Endon to the westward could be seen;
And by clinging to the chimbley
You could see across to Wembley,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.
Though the gasworks isn't wiolets, they improve the rural scene â
For mountains they would werry nicely pass;
There's the mushrooms in the dust-'ole, wiv the cowcumbers so green â
It only wants a bit o' 'ot-'ouse glass.
I wears this milkman's nightshirt, and I sits outside all day,
Like the ploughboy cove wot mizzled o'er the lea;
And when I goes indoors at night they dunno wot I say,
'Cause my language gets as yokel as can be.
Oh! it really is a werry pretty garden,
And the soap-works from the 'ouse-tops could be seen;
If I got a rope and pulley,
I'd enjoy the breeze more fully,
If it wasn't for the 'ouses in between.
Edgar Bateman?, late Victorian
âA VIEW OF MR LORDE HIS CRYKET GROHNDE'
[Supposedly in the style of Pepys's Diary]
This Day a great Cricket Match, Surrey against England, at
LORD'S,
and I thither, all the way to St John's Wood, to see the Place, having often heard Talk of it, and the Playing, which Mr
LONGSTOPPE
did tell me was a pretty Sight. Paid 6d. to be let in, and 2d. for a card of the Innings, and bought a little Book of the Laws of the Game, cost me 1s. 6d. more, though when I had got it, could hardly understand a Word of it; but to think how much money I spend out of Curiosity, and how inquisitive I am, so as to be vexed to the Heart if I cannot thoroughly make out every Thing I see! The Cricketing I believe very fine; but could not judge of it; for I think I did never before see any Cricket since I was a little Varlet Boy at School. But what a Difference between the manner of Bowling in those Days, and that Players now use! for then they did moderately trundle the Ball underhand; but now they fling it overhanded from the Elbow, as though viciously, and it flies like a Shot, being at least Five Ounces and a Half in Weight, and hard as a Block. I saw it strike one of the Bat-men on the Knuckles, who Danced and shook his Fist, as methought well he might. But to see how handy some did catch it, though knocked off the Bat by a strong Man with all his Force, albeit now and then they missing it, and struck by it on the Head, or in the Mouth, and how anyone can learn to play Cricket without losing his front Teeth is a wonder. The Spectators sitting on Benches in a Circle, at a Distance, and out of the way of the Ball, which was wise; but some on a raised Stand, and others aside at Tables, under a Row of Trees near a Tavern within the Grounds, with Pipes and Beer; and many in the Circle also Smoking and Drinking, and the Drawers continually going the Round of them to serve them Liquor and Tobacco. But all as quiet as a Quakers' Meeting, except when a good Hit made, or a Player bowled out, and strange to see how grave and solemn they looked, as if the sight of Men in white Clothes, knocking a Ball about, were Something serious to think on. Did hear that many had Wagers on the Game, but doubt it, for methinks there had been more Liveliness if much Betting, and chance of winning or losing, Money. The Company very numerous, and among them some in Carriages, and was glad to see so many People diverted, although at what I could not tell. But they enjoyed themselves in their Way, whatever that was, and I in mine, thinking how droll they looked, so earnestly attending to a mere Show of Dexterity. I, for my Part, soon out of Patience with the length of the Innings, and the Stopping and Interruption after each Run, and so away, more tired, I am sure, than any of the Cricketers. Yet I do take Pride, as an Englishman, in our Country Sport of Cricket, albeit I do not care to watch it playing; and certainly it is a manly Game, throwing open the Chest, and strengthening the Limbs, and the Player so often in Danger of being hit by the Ball.
Percival Leigh (illus. Richard Doyle),
Manners and Customs of ye Englyshe
(1850)
HUNTIN'
I: NEW GIRL
On the Monday Lizzie went out hunting for the first time in her life. . . .
The cavalcade began to move, and then Lord George was by her side. . . .
âI shall be so much astray,' said Lizzie. âI don't at all know how we are going to begin. Are we hunting a fox now?' At this moment they were trotting across a field or two, through a run of gates up to the first covert.
âNot quite yet. The hounds haven't been put in yet. You see that wood there? I suppose they'll draw that.'
âWhat is drawing, Lord George? I want to know all about it, and I am so ignorant. Nobody else will tell me.' Then Lord George gave his lesson, and explained the theory and system of fox-hunting. âWe're to wait here, then, till the fox runs away? But it's ever so large, and if he runs away and nobody sees him? I hope he will, because it will be nice to go on easily.'