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No. 24 - Recit. and Song - Babori and Chorus

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Babori: I am the manager of the National Theatre
Of Great Britain and her Isles beyond the seas,
'Tis true some poor misguided souls
In opposition cater,
Chorus: Who are they?
Babori: I will tell you if you please.
   
Babori: The drama of Britain is limping,
Outside of the Jericho Walls,
Of all they've bereft us,
There's nothing now left us,
For Shakespeare is going to the Halls.
The day of the National Theatre
Enthusiasts tell us is near,
There's hope for tomorrow,
Today all our sorrow
We'll drown in a bumper of beer.
Beer, Beer, beautiful Beerbohm,
Oh "Business is Business" 'tis true,
If you a way can see,
Find me a vacancy
In your Academy do.
How's your pretty Miss Viola?
Fair and so charming is she,
A very short time
It will take her to climb
To the top of the Beerbohm Tree.
Chorus: Beer, Beer, beautiful Beerbohm,
Oh "Business is Business" 'tis true,
If you a way can see,
Find me a vacancy
In your Academy do.
How's your pretty Miss Viola?
Fair and so charming is she,
A very short time
It will take her to climb
To the top of the Beerbohm Tree.
   
Babori: The latter-day poet is pining,
The dramatist looks for his hire,
If the glass is at zero
With Jones and Pinero,
Then Barrie sits close by the fire.
On mounting a play, quite a fortune
The Lessee's compell'd to disgorge,
Un-"Lessee" is partial
To Sutro or Marshall,
No wonder he mutters "By George!"
George, George, George Alexander,
The girls send their kindest regards,
Oh, Matinée Idol,
Your fame far and wide 'll
Be stamped on their picture postcards.
You have made up your mind that you'll
Fill all our bosoms with joy,
We'll applaud might and main
When at old Drury Lane
You are playing the principal boy.
Chorus: George, George, George Alexander,
The girls send their kindest regards,
Oh, Matinée Idol,
Your fame far and wide 'll
Be stamped on their picture postcards.
You have made up your mind that you'll
Fill all our bosoms with joy,
We'll applaud might and main
When at old Drury Lane
You are playing the principal boy.
   
Babori: We're all for Free Trade in Great Britain,
No foreign attraction we shun,
We simply await them,
And then we translate them;
You notice how often it's done.
Supposing for instance, now Grundy
Adapts a success from abroad,
He'll partly unflavour it
Fit for a favourite
Pleasing to Mabel or Maud.
Maude, Maude, it's ev'ryone's secret,
You're fine but you're not very large.
Stick to your duty
For you are the beauty
Who pilots the Haymarket barge.
While you're our little minister
We shall be there to applaud.
As neat as a squirrel
Is our little Cyril,
Come into the garden, Maude.
Chorus: Maude, Maude, it's ev'ryone's secret,
You're fine but you're not very large.
Stick to your duty
For you are the beauty
Who pilots the Haymarket barge.
While you're our little minister
We shall be there to applaud.
As neat as a squirrel
Is our little Cyril,
Come into the garden, Maude.

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