The Bab Ballads With which are included Songs of a Savoyard: By W. S. Gilbert: With 350 illustrations by the author |
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THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE |
 | The Bab Ballads |  |
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THE MYSTIC SELVAGEE
Perhaps already you may know
Sir Blennerhasset Portico?
A Captain in the Navy, he—
A Baronet and K. C. B.
You do? I thought so!
It was that captain's favourite whim
(A notion not confined to him)
That Rodney was the greatest tar
Who ever wielded capstan-bar.
He had been taught so.
Sir Blennerhasset Portico?
A Captain in the Navy, he—
A Baronet and K. C. B.
You do? I thought so!
It was that captain's favourite whim
(A notion not confined to him)
That Rodney was the greatest tar
Who ever wielded capstan-bar.
He had been taught so.
“Benbow? Cornwallis? Hood?—Belay!
Compared with Rodney”—he would say—
“No other tar is worth a rap;
The great Lord Rodney was the chap
The French to polish!
Though, mind you, I respect Lord Hood;
Cornwallis, too, was rather good;
Benbow could enemies repel;
Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well—
That is, tol-lol-ish!”
Compared with Rodney”—he would say—
“No other tar is worth a rap;
The great Lord Rodney was the chap
The French to polish!
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Cornwallis, too, was rather good;
Benbow could enemies repel;
Lord Nelson, too, was pretty well—
That is, tol-lol-ish!”
Sir Blennerhasset spent his days
In learning Rodney's little ways,
And closely imitated, too,
His mode of talking to his crew—
His port and paces.
An ancient tar he tried to catch
Who'd served in Rodney's famous batch;
But since his time long years have fled,
And Rodney's tars are mostly dead:
Eheu fugaces!
In learning Rodney's little ways,
And closely imitated, too,
His mode of talking to his crew—
His port and paces.
An ancient tar he tried to catch
Who'd served in Rodney's famous batch;
But since his time long years have fled,
And Rodney's tars are mostly dead:
Eheu fugaces!
But after searching near and far,
At last he found an ancient tar
Who served with Rodney and his crew
Against the French in 'eighty-two
(That gained the peerage).
He gave him fifty pounds a year,
His rum, his baccy, and his beer;
And had a comfortable den
Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,
Is called the steerage.
At last he found an ancient tar
Who served with Rodney and his crew
Against the French in 'eighty-two
(That gained the peerage).
He gave him fifty pounds a year,
His rum, his baccy, and his beer;
And had a comfortable den
Rigged up in what, by merchantmen,
Is called the steerage.
“Now, Jasper”—'twas that sailor's name—
“Don't fear that you'll incur my blame
By saying, when it seems to you,
That there is anything I do
That Rodney wouldn't.”
The ancient sailor turned his quid,
Prepared to do as he was bid:
“Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin,
You've done away with ‘swifting in’—
Well, sir, you shouldn't!
“Don't fear that you'll incur my blame
By saying, when it seems to you,
That there is anything I do
That Rodney wouldn't.”
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Prepared to do as he was bid:
“Ay, ay, yer honour; to begin,
You've done away with ‘swifting in’—
Well, sir, you shouldn't!
“Upon your spars I see you've clapped
Peak-halliard blocks, all iron-capped;
I would not christen that a crime,
But 'twas not done in Rodney's time.
It looks half-witted!
Upon your maintop-stay, I see,
You always clap a selvagee;
Your stays, I see, are equalised—
No vessel, such as Rodney prized,
Would thus be fitted.
Peak-halliard blocks, all iron-capped;
I would not christen that a crime,
But 'twas not done in Rodney's time.
It looks half-witted!
Upon your maintop-stay, I see,
You always clap a selvagee;
Your stays, I see, are equalised—
No vessel, such as Rodney prized,
Would thus be fitted.
“And Rodney, honoured sir, would grin
To see you turning deadeyes in,
Not up, as in the ancient way,
But downwards, like a cutter's stay—
You didn't oughter!
Besides, in seizing shrouds on board,
Breast backstays you have quite ignored;
Great Rodney kept unto the last
Breast backstays on topgallant mast—
They make it tauter.”
To see you turning deadeyes in,
Not up, as in the ancient way,
But downwards, like a cutter's stay—
You didn't oughter!
Besides, in seizing shrouds on board,
Breast backstays you have quite ignored;
Great Rodney kept unto the last
Breast backstays on topgallant mast—
They make it tauter.”
Sir Blennerhasset “swifted in,”
Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin
To strip (as told by Jasper Knox)
The iron capping from his blocks,
Where there was any.
Sir Blennerhasset does away
With selvagees from maintop-stay;
And though it makes his sailors stare,
He rigs breast backstays everywhere—
In fact, too many.
Turned deadeyes up, and lent a fin
To strip (as told by Jasper Knox)
The iron capping from his blocks,
Where there was any.
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With selvagees from maintop-stay;
And though it makes his sailors stare,
He rigs breast backstays everywhere—
In fact, too many.
One morning, when the saucy craft
Lay calmed, old Jasper toddled aft.
“My mind misgives me, sir, that we
Were wrong about that selvagee—
I should restore it.”
“Good,” said the captain, and that day
Restored it to the maintop-stay.
Well-practised sailors often make
A much more serious mistake,
And then ignore it.
Lay calmed, old Jasper toddled aft.
“My mind misgives me, sir, that we
Were wrong about that selvagee—
I should restore it.”
“Good,” said the captain, and that day
Restored it to the maintop-stay.
Well-practised sailors often make
A much more serious mistake,
And then ignore it.
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Next day old Jasper came once more:
“I think, sir, I was right before.”
Well, up the mast the sailors skipped,
The selvagee was soon unshipped,
And all were merry.
Again a day, and Jasper came:
“I p'raps deserve your honour's blame,
I can't make up my mind,” said he,
“About that cursed selvagee—
It's foolish—very.
“I think, sir, I was right before.”
Well, up the mast the sailors skipped,
The selvagee was soon unshipped,
And all were merry.
Again a day, and Jasper came:
“I p'raps deserve your honour's blame,
I can't make up my mind,” said he,
“About that cursed selvagee—
It's foolish—very.
“On Monday night I could have sworn
That maintop-stay it should adorn,
On Tuesday morning I could swear
That selvagee should not be there.
The knot's a rasper!”
“Oh, you be hanged!” said Captain P.,
“Here, go ashore at Caribbee.
Get out—good-bye—shove off—all right!”
Old Jasper soon was out of sight—
Farewell, old Jasper!
That maintop-stay it should adorn,
On Tuesday morning I could swear
That selvagee should not be there.
The knot's a rasper!”
“Oh, you be hanged!” said Captain P.,
“Here, go ashore at Caribbee.
Get out—good-bye—shove off—all right!”
Old Jasper soon was out of sight—
Farewell, old Jasper!
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