POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG;
OR, MISS BOWDLER AT THE MUSIC HALLS.
No. III.—THE SPOOKS IN THE SQUARE.
AIR—"The Goblins in the Churchyard."
I went down to the Psychical Society one night,
And heard them talk of Spooks and things that filled me with affright.
The Psychical Society, as every member boasts,
Was founded with the object of investigating Ghosts!
Now Ghosts, the modern species, are of very various sorts,
For like some plants, as botanists say, they seem to run to "sports."
I used to think a spectre was a spectre, but I find
The "Psychical" can furnish Spooks of every class and kind.
Chorus.
Some of the Ghosts are little, some of the Ghosts are big,
Some come in the guise of a headless man, and some of a spectre pig.
Some of them laugh "Ha! ha!" Some of them wail "Heigho!"
And I felt that night in a doose of a fright before it was time to go.
I had read Phantasmagoria by that writer quaint but grand,
Who penned The Hunting of the Snark and Alice in Wonderland.
And I thought I knew a thing or two, or might be even three,
About a Ghoul, and a Fay or Troll, and a Brownie or Banshee.
I knew that a Banshee always howled, whilst a Goblin might but yawn,
I also knew that a Poltergeist was not a Leprechaun,
But the Psychicals, I'm bound to say, had me on "buttered toastes"
With the wonderful changes which they rang on the good old Churchyard "Ghostes."
Chorus.
Some of their Ghosts were sages, some of them seemed sheer noddies;
Some of the same like a "Wandering Flame," and others as "Astral Bodies."
Some of theirs croaked "Ha! ha!" some of them chuckled "Ho! ho!"
And I got so sad, I was heartily glad when I found it was time to go.
I dropped into the "Rose and Crown," a highly respectable tavern,
For Ghosts are dry, and my thirst was high, my throat like a chalky cavern.
I didn't have much, only four of cold Scotch, which is good to moisten chalk.
The night was fine, it was twelve twenty-nine, so I thought I might just as well walk.
But when I entered Trafalgar Square, I heard a mysterious sound;
There was not even a Bobby in sight as I stole a glance around;
But seated on NELSON's lions four, and perched on the neighbouring "posteses,"
I saw, as we said in our Nursery Rhyme, a dozen or so of "Ghosteses"!
Chorus.
Some of the Ghosts were short, some of the Ghosts were tall,
Some of them had most preposterous noddles, and some of them none at all,
They all gave a shrill "Ha! ha!" they all gave a hushed "Ho! ho!"
I turned in a fright and I wished 'em good night—but they would not let me go!
Then one of the Ghosts began to speak; down on my knees I sank,
"I am a Nobleman's Ghost," said he, "and mine offence is Rank!
I never cared for the Common Herd, the People I loved to crush;
My only remark on the Poor was 'Pooh!' my retort to the Toilers 'Tush!'
And if they dared to grumble, why, I used to raise my rents,
For I always held that the Mob were made to keep up the Cent-per-cents,
And now in this Square I hear BURNS's blare, see the Red Banner wave,
And Society swished by the Socialist; so I cannot rest in my grave."
Chorus.
Another Ghost commenced. He said: "I was a great R.A.
(I remember the time when we used to meet in "the pepper-pots," over the way),
My daubs were always hung on the line, for ourselves we used to judge,
Our sole Ideal conventional cant, our technique broad brown smudge.
And now BURNE JONES's pictures sell!!!"—here he writhed with a spectral twist—
"And our 'broad brown smudge' gives way to the fudge cranks call 'Impressionist.'
I've lost my head, as perhaps you mark—though I keep a ventriloquist tongue.
What's the use of a head to an Artist Ghost, who has never a chance to be hung?"
Chorus—Some of the Ghosts, &c.
A Lawyer's Ghost wept on his post, and then began to state
That the Revolution of Sixty-eight—he meant of Six-and-eight—
For the abolition of needless fees, and the stopping of useless jaw,
Had capped the murder of Privilege by the massacre of Law:
Order, this Spook went on to state, was the prey of police—less prank,
All the real jam of life was lost with the abolition of Rank.
Here he wept! Ah! can there be a sight a pitiful breast to thrill
Like the Ghost of a Lawyer dropping a tear o'er the Ghost of a Lawyer's Bill?
Chorus—Some of the Ghosts, &c.
I woke. A pain possessed my head. The gathered Ghosts were gone,
And I lay there in Trafalgar Square, on a cold stone alone.
I seemed to hear a wailing cry, a whisper on the breeze,
Which said, in accents I well knew, "Now then, Time, Gentlemen, please!"
It may have been the warning to recall those vagrant Ghosts
To —— wheresoever they abide, poor pallid spectral hosts!
What it all meant I cannot tell, but this at least I know,
To that Psychical Society no more at night I'll go!
Chorus.
Some of the Ghosts did goggle, some of the Spooks did stare,
But there they sat in a spectral row round "the Squirts" in Trafalgar Square.
They all gave a loud "Ha! ha!" they all gave a loud "Ho! ho!"
And I turned and fled, and got home to bed as the rooster began to crow!
THE NAKED TRUTH.—Our old friend, Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM, was reading, the other day, a letter in the Times about "Electrical Tramways," when she came upon a line stating that "two naked conductors" would be used. Much shocked, she was about to look at something else in the paper when she noticed that "one of the conductors was to be carried on poles," and another to be "laid rigid between the rails!" Horrified at this apparent brutality, the worthy lady has been writing letters (in draft) to the Commissioner of Police ever since!