Parody Pie

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all my treasures prove,
With lunch and dinners, plays and balls,
And all the naughty music-halls.

There will we sit inside a box,
And see the ladies show their frocks,
And large tiaras, in the stalls,
And more when they take off their shawls.

Then will I buy thee silken hoses,
And shoes to fit your dainty toeses;
A rope of pearls as large as spuds,
(The size I wear myself as studs).

If these delights thy mind may move,
Come live with me and be my love.
Yes, these delights my mind do move,
I'll live with thee and be thy love.

My true friend hath my hat, and I have his,
By choice of mine, one for another changed;
I hold his dear, and mine he'd never miss,
There never was a better swop arranged:
My true friend hath my hat, and I have his.

His hat on me saves me the price of one;
My hat on him his foolish head hath guyed;
He hates my hat, he much prefers his own,
I cherish his, my bald patch it doth hide:
My true friend hath my hat, and I have his.

The boy stood on the bathroom mat,
A matchbox in his hand,
The Geyser, new the day before,
He did not understand.

He scarcely dared to touch the thing
Without his father's word;
His father, wrapped in sleep above,
Slept on and never heard.

He called aloud: "Say, father, say,
The gas or water first?
If I turn on the gas before,
Say, will the Geyser burst?"

"Speak, father!" once again, he cried;
"I dare not try alone!"
And still no answer came to him,
The snores went snoring on.

He shouted but once more aloud:
Won't no one show me how?"
And then advanced with lighted match,
And lit the gas first - OW!"

The Geyser and the Gallant Child,
The Bath - ha where are they?
Ask of the maid who lost her place
For sweeping them away.

Blink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will wink with mine,
Or leave a note within the post
And I'll come out to dine.
An invitation from a Duke
Requires a garb divine,
But my old neck-tie, at the most,
Is all I'd change for thine.

I sent thee late a little cheque
That could not honoured be,
But having then a hope that there
It might be cashed by thee;
But thou thereon did'st only look
And sent it back to me,
Since when thou lov'st to curse and swear,
Not at the cheque, but me.

Bells in the front hall ringing,
When twilight is falling;
"Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,"
They are crying and calling.

Where is Maud? In the field,
And I, who else, am with her;
Gathering leeks and turnips - 
Myriads grow together.

Bells in our hall rang,
Ringing through the garretts;
Maud is here, here, here,
In among the carrots.

I pinched her rosy cheek,
She smacked my face in anger:
Maud is nearly seventy,
I did not like to slang her.

I know the way she went
Back with her cheeks so ruddy;
For her feet have touched the staircase
And left the carpets muddy.

You must shake and call me early,
Call me early, mother dear,
For to-morrow will be the happiest day
Of all the glad new year.
The weather forecast says: No rain,
Just sunshine all the day;
And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,
I'm to be Queen o' the May!

I shall wear my scarlet slippers
And my sky-blue Bombazine,
That Carrie and Kate and Margaret
May turn a sickly green;
But sister Effie's black, black eye,
Well, that was done in play:
I'm really rather excited, mother,
For I'm to be Queen o' the May!

I'm very tired indeed, mother,
I want my little cot:
My feet are lumps of ice, mother,
My brow is burning hot.
The rain came down in floods, mother,
And drenched my Bombazine;
My scarlet shoes collapsed, mother,
Dancing on the green.

How I longed for my goloshes
As we slithered in the slosh!
I've broken off with Robin
For not lending his MackIntosh;
Still, I have been Queen o' the May, mother,
A fig for all the rest!
Just bix be a bustard poultice, bother,
But try it-od Effie's chest!

Are you ready for your steeplechase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorèe?
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

You're booked to ride your Capping Race to-day at Coulterlee.
(I'm blessed if I can find the place in any "A B C.")
You're booked to ride Vindictive with an infant on your knee,
With which, no doubt, you'll turn the scale at over twelve stone three, 
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

She clutched the nurs'ry mantelpiece, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorèe.
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree!

"I cannot ride Vindictive with a baby on my knee.
How can I ride a capping-race with crêches on my knee?"
Her husband was a callous brute, and didn't care a D.

"I've backed you for a thousand pounds, and you'll stand in with me."
"Bar one, Bar one," the Bookies cried; "Bar one, Bar two, Bar three!"

She mastered Young Vindictive! Oh the crafty matron she!!
And kept him straight and won the race at 8 to 3.
And then they warned her off the Turf of festive Coulterlee.
For they found it was a golliwog she held upon her knee.
No wonder that no baby cried for Mrs. L. Loree.

Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

I stuck a pin into a chair,
To stick in someone sitting there;
And so well was it hid, the sight
Could not rest on its point so bright.

I threw an egg into the air - 
It fell on someone, I don't know where;
For who so swift of sight or leg
As to dodge the flight of a hard-boiled egg?

Long, long afterwards, squashed out flat,
I found the egg on a curate's hat;
And the pin, through its pointed end,
Was unexpectedly found by a friend.

The shades of night are falling fast,
And we are near the end at last;
In happy homes we know the light
Of household fire gleams warm and bright - 
     Therefore,
     Excelsior!
     (But why "Excelsior"?)

Our tale is of a youth who ran,
As only foreign waiters can,
Balancing, by some strange device,
Two dozen plates of coffee-ice.
     What, twenty-four?
     Yes, even more.
     Excelsior!

"Fly not so fast," the Porter said, 
"You'll only break your stupid head!"
But rash Alphonso scorned advice;
He slipped, and fell among the ice.
     His hair he tore - 
     "There is no more!"
     Excelsior!

"The day is hot," the waitress cried;
"They shout for ice! - there inside."
See! with his hand he scoops it back,
A little blacker, if not black!
     He kicks the door,
     "Si, si, Signor!"
     Excelsior!
(But why drag in "Excelsior"?)

You ask us why? We cannot tell,
For any word would do as well,
Except "Good-bye," which is "taboo";
We scarcely dare to breathe "Adieu."
     Therefore, no more,
     But evermore
     Excelsior - ior - ior - ee - aw!