THE JOYS OF THE SEA-SIDE.
First Verse.
Oh, I love to sit a-gyzing on the boundless blue horizing,
When the scorching sun is blyzing down on sands, and ships, and sea!
And to watch the busy figgers of the happy little diggers,
Or to listen to the niggers, when they choose to come to me!
Chorus (to which the singer should sway in waltz-time).
For I'm offully fond of the Sea!-side!
If I'd only my w'y I would de-cide
To dwell evermore,
By the murmuring shore,
With the billows a-blustering be-side!
Second Verse.
Then how pleasant of a morning, to be up before the dorning!
And to sally forth a-prorning—e'en if nothing back you bring!
Some young men who like fatigue 'll go and try to pot a sea-gull,
What's the odds if it's illegal, or the bird they only wing?
Chorus—For it's one of the sports of the Sea-side! &c.
Third Verse.
Then what j'y to go a bything—though you'll swim, if you're a sly thing,
Like a mermaid nimbly writhing, with a foot upon the sand!
When you're tired of old Poseidon, there's the pier to promenide on,
Strauss, and Sullivan, and Haydn form the programme of the band.
Chorus—For there's always a band at the Sea-side! &c.
Fourth Verse.
And, with boatmen so beguiling, sev'ral parties go out siling!
Sitting all together smiling, handing sandwiches about,
To the sound of concertiner,—till they're gradually greener,
And they wish the ham was leaner, as they sip their bottled stout.
Chorus—And they cry, "Put us back on the Sea-side!" &c.
Fifth Verse.
There is pleasure unalloyed in hiring hacks and going roiding!
(If you stick on tight, avoiding any cropper or mishap,)
Or about the rocks you ramble; over boulders slip and scramble;
Or sit down and do a gamble, playing "Loo" or "Penny Nap."
Chorus—"Penny Nap" is the gyme for the Sea-side! &c.
Sixth Verse.
Then it's lovely to be spewning, all the glamour of the mewn in,
With your love his banjo tewning, ere flirtation can begin!
As along the sands you're strowling, till the hour of ten is towling,
And your Ma, severely scowling, asks "Wherever you have bin!"
Chorus—Then you answer "I've been by the Sea-side!" &c.
Seventh Verse.
Should the sky be dark and frowning, and the restless winds be mowning,
With the breakers' thunder drowning all the laughter and the glee;
And the day should prove a drencher, out of doors you will not ventcher,
But you'll read the volumes lent yer by the Local Libraree!
Chorus—For there's sure to be one at the Sea-side! &c.
Eighth Verse.
If the weather gets no calmer, you can patronise the dramer,
Where the leading lady charmer is a chit of forty-four;
And a duty none would skirk is to attend the strolling circus,
For they'd all be in the workhouse, should their antics cease to dror!
Chorus—And they're part of the joys of the Sea-side! &c.
Encore Verse (to be used only in case of emergency).
Well, I reelly must be gowing—I've just time to make my bow in—
But I thank you for allowing me to patter on so long.
And if, like me, you're pining for the breezes there's some brine in,
Why, I'll trouble you to jine in with the chorus to my song!
Chorus (all together)—Oh, we're offully fond of the Sea-side! &c.
xii.—THE PLAINTIVELY PATHETIC.
A Music-hall audience will always be exceedingly susceptible to pathos—so long as they clearly understand that the song is not intended to be of a comic nature. However, there is very little danger of any misapprehension in the case of our present example, which is as natural and affecting a little song as any that have been moving the Music Halls of late. The ultra-fastidious may possibly be repelled by what they would term the vulgarity of the title,—"The Night-light Ever Burning by the Bed"—but, although it is true that this humble luminary is now more generally called a "Fairy Lamp," persons of true taste and refinement will prefer the homely simplicity of its earlier name. The song only contains three verses, which is the regulation allowance for Music-hall pathos, the authors probably feeling that the audience could not stand any more. It should be explained that the "tum-tum" at the end of certain lines is not intended to be sung—it is merely an indication to the orchestra to pinch their violins in a pizzicato manner. The singer should either come on as a serious black man—for burnt cork is a marvellous provocative of pathos—or as his ordinary self. In either case he should wear evening dress, with a large brilliant on each hand.