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British Musical Theatre   Her Ladyship

No. 13 - Song - Bobinot and Chorus - "The Duke of Thingumybob."

MIDI File

Bobinot: The average hard-working peasant
When leading his usual life
Wakes up in the morning with nobody present
(Unless it, perhaps, is his wife.)
He pulls on his clothes and he picks up his hat,
Has breakfast, goes out,
slams the door, and that's that.
But His Grace the Duke of Thingumybob!
Each morning when he wakes
By his bedside notices nine or ten
Severe respectable serving men.
With the help of these, or more if you please,
His toilet then he makes;
A couple of lackeys will tie his cravat,
Two others stand by with his coat and his hat,
Another start curling his hair from the roots up
While somebody else tries to fasten his boots up.
A dignified gent comes and sprays him with scent,
Each man has a different job;
For it's not orthodox to put on your own socks
If you chance to be the Duke of Thingumybob!
Chorus: Oh, His Grace the Duke of Thingumybob!
Each morning when he wakes
By his bedside notices nine or ten
Severe respectable serving men.
With the help of these, he'll dress by degrees,
Each man's a diff'rent job;
Bobinot: And they won't, I suppose,
Let you blow your own nose,
If you chance to be the Duke of Thingumybob!
   
Bobinot: When lads of the Village go wooing
The lasses they want for their own,
They've plenty of chances for billing and cooing
And meeting their sweethearts alone.
They stroll through the fields
or they sit hand in hand,
A kiss and a squeeze,
and the wedding's all planned.
But if His Grace the Duke of Thingumybob
Adores a damsel fair,
When to woo the beautiful maid he tries
He's watched by dozens of curious eyes.
Oh, he wants a place where they can embrace,
But someone's always there;
He'll start in the garden declaring his "pash"
When up comes Lord Blank
and the Marquis of Dash,
Away to the terrace by then he has borne her,
But Count Umpedoodleum pops round the corner;
He drags her indoors to the tapestried hall,
And bumps into Baroness What-you-may-call;
Perhaps in the salon he'll try tête-à-têting,
But old Lady Whatnot is sitting there waiting;
In most of the rooms there are lackeys and grooms,
He can't get away from the mob;
So it strikes me the cellar's the best place to tell her
She's worshipped by the Duke of Thingumybob!
Chorus: If His Grace the Duke of Thingumybob
Adores a damsel fair,
When to woo the beautiful maid he tries
He's watched by dozens of curious eyes.
Oh, he wants a place where they can embrace
Away from all the mob;
Bobinot: For you can't sit on benches
With cuddlesome wenches
Supposing you're the Duke of Thingumybob!
   
Bobinot: Two fellows of humble position
Fall out-- never mind about what —
They take off their coats without asking permission
And have a "set to" on the spot.
Their friends may look on but they won't interfere
Till one of the two gets a nasty thick ear.
But if His Grace the Duke of Thingumybob
Get punched upon the nose,
Well he can't hit out at the other chap
Or start away on a lively scrap,
For a noble Lord must fight with a sword
And not give vulgar blows;
A message polite to his rival he sends
By two of his aristocratic young friends,
And when they've exchanged ev'ry usual greeting,
At dawn in a meadow they fix up a meeting,
The parties arrive in a coach on the spot
With seconds and doctors and goodness knows what,
The signal is given, they start like old Harry
With rapiers a-flashing to thrust and to parry,
Until with a twist and a turn of the wrist
One fellow puts paid to his job,
While the other cries "Lummy!"
I'm pinked in the tummy,
Let's hope it's not the Duke of Thingumybob!
Chorus: If His Grace the Duke of Thingumybob
Get punched upon the nose,
Well he can't hit out at the other chap
Or start away on a lively scrap,
For a noble Lord must fight with a sword
Unlike the vulgar mob;
Bobinot: Now when I have a tiff
It's just "Bing! Bang! and Biff!"
But of course I'm not the Duke of Thingumybob!

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