Chorus

The Fourth of July has its meed of joy, And Washington’s birthday our thoughts employ;   But naught, not even a circus clown,   Can waken the folks of this old town   Like auction sales, for in that case,   The sober-minded populace,   Without regard to rank or race, Finds pleasure without alloy.

Men Bargains! Bargains! Girls     Cloisonné and rarest crockery! Men Bargains! Bargains! Girls     Roguish imps that laugh in mockery! All   Silken goods and jewels antique;   With statuettes that seemingly speak;   Old guns and pistols, very unique; Will all be sold off to-day.

We never bid high on the goods for sale; Connecticut thriftiness must prevail.   But when a bargain comes our way,   Our “grab-it-quick” instincts we obey.   We know a gold brick in the dark,   Likewise a buzzard from a lark;   Therefore we’re not an easy mark For sharpers—they always fail.

Song—Auctioneer

  We’ll proceed without delay To dispose of this rare collection;   All antiquarians say It will bear the closest inspection. Purchasers spot cash must pay Before the goods are moved away. The first lot embraces Roman scarves and laces; Curios from Hindustan; Golden idols from Japan; Chinese swords from Singapore; Silver pitcher from Lahore; The catalogue names many more.

How much for this lot am I bid?

Miss P. Three.

Pet. Three-ten.

Miss P. Three-fifty.

Pet. [to Miss P.] Don’t be rash.

Miss P. Three-fifty!

Auc. I hear no other bid. Going! going! gone! Hand over your cash.

Lov. [to Miss P.] Says I to myself, says I, “Those jimcracks don’t you buy,   “But the casket get!”   On that I’m set, Though it comes darnation high.

Miss P. [to Lovemoney] Old Sypher used to say, In a confidential way,   “For the casket’s worth   “No son of earth “Is rich enough to pay.”

All [very softly] Therefore we all opine That it must hold something fine—   A diadem or priceless gem— We wish we could divine.

Auc. Now, gentlemen, how much for the casket?

Lov. Three hundred dollars. Auc.     ’Tis shame to ask it!

Pet. Four hundred and fifty. Lov.     And fifty more! Chorus And fifty more—he said fifty more! Auc. Come, bid more quickly, I implore!

Pet. I’ll make it six. Lov.     I’ll raise you ten. Auc. Do I hear ten more? Good, gentlemen!

Pet. I’ll bid ten more, and eighty on that; Which makes just seven, and I’ll stand pat.

Lov. I’ll add an even hundred more. Pet. I stand just where I stood before.

Auc. Come, urge them on! One final chance! Going! going! gone!

Chorus

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Old Sypher was fond of a joke, And this is a post-mortem stroke!   This lamp worthless and battered Will only derision provoke. It’s ever been thus since the world began; No doubt it’s encompassed in Nature’s plan. ’Tis foolish to buy a pig in a poke, To crawl in a cannon to have a smoke, To try to fight a young buzz-saw, Or plead your case in a court of law. Things may be fair in love or war But not at an auction sale—   Not at a sale—not at an auction sale!

Song—Chris

When in curls and knickerbockers, quite a very little lad,   To the late lamented Sypher I was sent. Then his health, as I recall it, was phenomenally bad,   And nearly were the sands of his existence spent. He recuperated suddenly, and to me it was due   That he hale and hearty died at eighty-three. It was strong and constant exercise gave him his health anew   For just three hours a day he spent in licking me.

Chorus And the recollection haunts him yet! Chris   Great sentiment it lacks. Chorus Though he vainly struggles to forget— Chris   The rhythm of the whacks.

The patter, the patter, the patter of the shingle—   To use it he well knew how. He’d batter, he’d batter, he’d batter till I tingle;   In mem’ry I feel it now.

All The patter, etc.

Chris When I first became a pupil at the dear old village school,   In the little village schoolhouse on the green, Then it stood within a leafy grove all shady, dark, and cool;   But ere a year had passed that grove no more was seen. It had disappeared completely, leaving not a single tree.   By old Sypher they were felled and sent away To be sliced up into shingles that were meant alone for me;   A gross of them I often wore out in a day.

Chorus And the recollection, etc.

Song—Genie

Great master, here am I, your willing slave,         who comes to serve you. Don’t let my austere looks in the least unnerve you. Oh, speak and tell me, pray, Are you a prince or country jay, Blue-blood or common clay?   Elucidate on this point.

I am the slave of the lamp, Though you be beggar or tramp, A cutthroat, robber, or scamp,   Your orders I must obey.

Yet I dote on respectability; For rank and name I have a keen eye.   Though Father was a myth,   Dear Mother was a Smith, And I am a high-toned Genie.

Genie & Chris Yet (I dote/he dotes) on respectability; For rank and name (I have/he has) a keen eye.   (My/His) father was a myth,   But (my/his) mother was a Smith, And (I am/he is) a high-toned Genie!

Genie Aladdin was a master whom I served with unfeigned pleasure. He was a lad in many respects a treasure. Oh, how I loved the boy! His orders were my constant joy. Not once did he annoy   By parvenu quips or quirks.

I am the slave of the lamp, etc.

Song—Senior Girls (Sopranos)

  We seniors are,   And always bar The juniors from all social intercourse;   We’ll condescend   To slightly bend To folks who have an intellectual force.   We realize   We are most wise; Against the universe we stand to win.   We have a touch   Of early Dutch, With English, Irish, Scotch, and French mixed in;   Therefore, you see,   Mentality Developed to a high degree.

Oh, happy days of maiden dreaming,   With sunlight streaming     Through halls of splendor! Our hearts with joyfulness are teeming,   For in the seeming     All is tender;     And all is love.

Song—Junior Girls (Altos)

  We maids are thought   To rank as nought If what the seniors say is gospel truth.   At present we   On this agree: We have the disadvantages of youth.   We’ll live that down;   A senior’s crown Will be our prize within a year or two.   Though now we fret   We’ll not forget, When we get there, to do as seniors do.   We trust you see   Mentality Developed to a high degree.

Oh, happy days of maiden dreaming, etc.

Miss P. Young ladies, on this most auspicious day— Girls     Yes, madam! Miss P. I trust my daily teaching you’ll obey. Girls     Yes, madam! Miss P. Don’t giggle when the deacon tries to speak— Girls     No, madam! Miss P. Or say the parson’s daughter is a freak— Girls     No, madam! Miss P. And you must never wink, or twirl your thumb— Girls     No, madam! Miss P. Or fill your mouth with nasty chewing gum. Girls     No, madam!

Miss P. And do not poke each other in the ribs, Or when you talk of me, don’t say “her ancient nibs,” Because I’m very sure to find you out. Girls [spoken]     No, madam!

Song—Fanny

Fanny The bobolink is chirping forth his chee, chee, chee, chee—   Loud is his voice. His mate is sending tokens sweet of chee, chee, chee, chee—   He is her choice. All nature is a-bloom today; ’tis spring; Respite from work the coming days will bring; And then with song we’ll make the woodland ring.   All nature is a-bloom today; ’tis spring;   All nature is a-bloom; ’tis spring! ’tis spring! ’tis spring!

Oh, happy days of maiden dreaming, etc.

Genie Professor Gilder is my name, And simply boundless is my fame. Chris   And I claim the same!

Girls You ne’er again need hope to scan The features of so great a man. Chris   So gaze while you can! [indicating himself]

Girls To realize the brains that lie Beneath a forehead broad and high— Chris   Pray, cast here an eye!

Girls Of all the varied -ologies Of ’varsities and colleges More than profound their knowledge is;   In fact, they know it all!

Song—Genie, Chris, and Girls

Chris Oh, I am an L. L. D.— Genie   And I am an I. O. U.— Chris For both of us took a high degree   At the College of Hoop-de-Doo!

Genie Oh, I am an X. Y. Z.— Chris   I never knew that of you! Both (I’m/He’s) an O. K. and a C. O. D.,   As well as a P. D. Q.!

Girls For he is an L. L. D.— Chris & Genie     (I am!/He is!) Girls   And he is an I. O. U.— Chris & Genie     (He is!/I am!) Girls For both of them took a high degree   At the College of Hoop-de-Doo!

Girls Oh, he is an X. Y. Z.— Chris & Genie     (He is!/I am!) Girls   We never knew that of you— Chris & Genie     (I am!/He is!) All (I’m/He’s) an O. K. and a C. O. D.,   As well as a P. D. Q.

Chris In ev’ry climate, land, or zone, Professor Gilder is well known. Genie   I don’t like your tone.

Chris And when it comes to foreheads wide, [indicating his own] You will admit this can’t be tied. Genie   Look here and decide!

Chris My partner, there, too jealous is; You all may read it in his phiz. Genie   But he knows his biz.

Girls Of all the varied -ologies Of ’varsities and colleges More than profound their knowledge is;   In fact, they know it all!

Duet—Fanny and Chris

Chris La la la la la la la—

Altos Do la sol sol fa; Si si la do; La da do si si; La sol fa fa mi. La sol sol fa; Si si la do; La fa mi; Mi mi re; Do la si la sol do do fa.

Chris Very good! Keep it up!

Chris My hope to wander through it most absorbing and intense is: That land of High-Art Posters that we see upon the fences.   To that far land could we but fly,   We’d happy be, there, you and I, For living in that blessed spot a moderate expense is. Therefore, I beg, take heart and slip the stern parental tether; We’ll wedded be and then depart for Posterland together.   With cloudless hearts we e’er may stray   Through many colored meadows gay, With ecru trees that always bloom in lemon-colored weather.

Fanny Ah, me! Chris   Ah, me! Sopranos     Ah, me! Altos       Ah, me! All         Ah, me!

Chris & Fanny In Posterland! in Posterland!   Where skies are always red; Where orange lambkins skip about   Without a tail or head. All Where trees like purple sponges look,   Where grass is always pink; We’d walk beside a light green brook   While peach-blow thoughts we’d think.

Chris Very good! Keep it up!

Fanny The home of highly colored hopes and rainbow-hued extenses, That land of High-Art Posters that we see upon the fences!   How fortunate indeed our fate   Could we that mystic strand locate For to discover it a task imposing and immense is. Vermilion cows are to this land exclusively allotted; The cats are all two-legged there, the dogs are polka-dotted.   The natives are the strangest crew   That ever pen or pencil drew; The horses are the queerest things that ever walked or trotted.

Ah, me!, etc.

Finale—Act I

All Though we brag about our horses   Or our speedy automobile, Praise our trotter’s great resources   And our chain- or chainless low wheel, We discover—though we’re bumptious,   Careless, or particular— That there is nothing quite so scrumptious   As a Pullman Palace Car.

On, iron horse! we praise you; Let’s hope steep inclines won’t daze you; The speed, no doubt, will amaze you.   You’re smashing all the records     that were never smashed before.

Song—Genie

  A humpback whale   Despised his tail— A peacock’s craved, with its gaudy hue.   “If it were mine,   “I’d leave this brine “And fly aloft to heaven’s blue!”   By vain thoughts spurred,   He coaxed the bird To swim far out beyond the breakers’ roar;   And when he dipped,   The whale he snipped The peacock’s tail with a cross-cut saw. And then he stuck the feathers on his own extremitee, But somehow couldn’t manage to fly up above the sea!

Oh, blow, ye winds, and likewise pipe your eye For the humpback whale who tried to fly.   His tail arose,   But he couldn’t lift his nose, And he never knew the reason why.

All Blow, ye winds, etc.

Genie   A skipper grim   Caught sight of him A-flound’ring madly in the briny deep.   Says he, ”By gum,   “I’ll give up rum “If that ’ere thing don’t make me creep!   “But my harpoon   “Will no doubt soon “Explore his innards to that mark’d degree   “That he will know   “He’s not the show: “No whale can shake his tail at me!” And his flippers are a-churning in a crazy sort of way While his feathered tail is bobbing up above the ocean’s spray!

Oh, blow, ye winds, etc.

Recitative

Chris Are you a good sailor, and for the ocean have no fear; Or subject to that horrid thing the French call mal de mer?

Fanny I never seek my cabin though the boat bob like a cork; And I’ve traveled on the Hudson from Poughkeepsie to New York.

Chris How lovely! The day’s attuned to love: The sea below, the sky above.

Fanny Sweetly, sweetly, the warm western breezes are sighing! Swiftly, swiftly, o’er silvery waves we are flying; Yet somehow, somehow, a queerness that feels terrifying Is stealing upon me—     Ah, would I were home again!

Both Blast the billowy ocean When it starts to get in a commotion. Give, ah, give me a potion   To put me to sleep till I land!

Genie If she springs a leak on the larboard, Go over and sit on the starboard. If she springs a leak on the starboard, Go over and sit on the larboard.

All Howling! The bleak western breezes are howling! Darkly, darkly, the black sky above us is scowling. Somehow, somehow, an unrestrained feeling for growling Is stealing upon us—     Oh, would we were home again!

Genie Land ahead! All     Land ahead!

Genie But two leagues sou’-sou’west. Tonight with Prince Aladdin we will rest. [To Chris] Great Master, very soon we’ll be within the land of fairies; Be dignified and drop all small vagaries. I’ve telephoned to-day And told the Queen of Dreams to say That we are on our way   To visit Aladdin’s court.

All Oh, wondrous slave of the lamp! Genie   Thanks for the praise you convey. All Though he be loafer or scamp— Genie   His orders I must obey. Yet I dote on respectability; For rank and name I have a keen eye;   Though Father was a myth,   Dear Mother was a Smith, And I am a high-toned Genie.

All Yet he dotes, etc.

He has a very keen eye, A bright and cheery keen eye. He is a high-toned Genie With nothing of a mean eye; A Genie with a keen eye. Not a mean eye, but a keen eye,   Has this great Genie!

Recitative—Queen of Dreams

Awake, Aladdin! for now breaks the spell! Two thousand years have vanished since it fell. Awake, Aladdin! mount your throne again! For mortal feet are treading your domain.

Al. Oh, pardon me—I’ve been asleep, methinks.

Viz. Your Majesty has taken forty winks.

Al. [to Chorus] So soft your song that I in slumber strayed; Therefore, I beg, resume your serenade.

Song—Aladdin and Chorus

Chorus Above the slim minaret   Two stars of twilight glow. The lute and bright castanet   Sound in the dusk below.

Al. Gulnare, look from thy lattice! Chorus   Gulnare, look from thy lattice. Al. Gulnare— Gulnare— Viz. & Capt.     Gulnare!

Al. Though loud the call for prayer—   Hear the muezzin’s cry— Far from the mosque I fare;   Swift to my love I fly. What need of mosque have I?   Here is a fairer shrine, Each prayer a tender sigh;   Turn not thine ear from mine.

Al. & Tenors Gulnare, stars of twilight glow; We are waiting here below. Gulnare, here is a fairer shrine; Al. Turn not thine eyes from mine,     Gulnare!

Al. & Tenors Now through the nearing night   Four stars in glory rise; Two the pale heavens light;   Two are thy shining eyes.     Gulnare!

Song—Genie, Scotty, and Talking Dolls

Dolls “Mama, Papa,” was all that we could say, Until we met this naughty boy, this sporty boy, today. Now all because of this alluring lad We’re dollishly improper and mechanically bad!

Very goody-goody dollies once were we; Now we’re dissipated dollies, as you see. Propriety and etiquette are laid upon the shelf; We say “Come off” and “Quit it,” “Get a gait” and “Chase yourself!” Nor do we hesitate a bit In negatives to use a “nit.”   In sporty chatter   We merrily patter Though it is impolite.   Ourselves we flatter,   Concerning that matter, That we are “out of sight!”

Genie & Sco. Hey there— Dolls     You bet! Genie & Sco. Stay there— Dolls     Don’t fret. A hit we’re bound to make; We are the swiftest of the swift, and ev’ry cake we take.

To that— Sco.     What t’ell— Dolls —young man— Sco.     Well, well— Dolls The whole of this we owe. We wish that we had met him some ten thousand years ago.

Very goody-goody dollies, etc.

Trio—Fanny, Aladdin, and Chris

Chris   What maid could read amiss   An attitude like this, Or reward such deep devotion with the mitten? Fanny   While any damsel knows   A person in this pose By the beauty of her charms is deeply smitten. Al.   Do you think I can convey   By standing in this way That the idol of my heart beyond my reach is? Fanny [critically]   Oh, yes, that’s rather good. Chris   It would be understood Slightly better than a string of soulful speeches. Al.   Soulful speeches— Fanny     Soulful speeches— Chris —Than a string of soulful speeches!

All   Ah! Sweetest of all of the words of love     Are the words that are unsaid;   Truest of all of the vows of love     Are the vows by glances sped.   Little the need for speech to voice     A passion deep or grand;   Tell her your story with your eyes     And she will understand.

Chris   The girl who knows her book   Could won be by a look If ’twere given with this eloquent expression. Fanny   You’ll find this type of gaze   Will tender tumults raise ’Mid the heart-strings of a damsel of discretion. Al.   Very well, then I shall try   The telepathic eye And look my infatuation in this fashion. Fanny [critically]   Not bad; in fact, quite fair. Chris   It’s certain with that stare. You could move a wooden image to compassion. Al.   To compassion— Fanny     To compassion— Chris —Wooden image to compassion!

All   Ah! Sweetest of all, etc.

Chris The lamp! Al.   The lamp! Chris The lamp! Al.   The lamp! Fanny     The lamp! Chorus Well, what about the lamp?

Fanny     The lamp! Al.   The lamp! Chris It’s gone! Al.   It’s gone! Chris It’s gone! Al.   It’s gone! Fanny     It’s gone! Chorus They say the lamp is gone.

Fanny     It’s gone! Al.   Yes, gone!

Genie One moment; one moment; one moment.

I met a girl who said, “Propriety and etiquette are laid upon the shelf.” She said “Come off” and “Quit it,” “Get a gait” and “Chase yourself”; Nor did she hesitate a bit In negatives to use a “nit”;   In sporty chatter   She’d merrily patter In language impolite.   From too much boozing   I dropped into snoozing And the lamp got out of sight.

Miss P. & Viz.     ’Tis found! Chorus ’Tis found! Chris The lamp! Al.   The lamp! Chris The lamp! Al.   The lamp! Fanny     The lamp! Chorus Well, what about the lamp?

Fanny     It’s found! Al.   It’s found! Chris —They say! Al.   —They say! Chris —They say! Al.   —They say! Fanny     —They say! Chorus We say the lamp is found!

Fanny     Hooray! Al. & Chris   Hooray!

Genie One moment; one moment; one moment. I know it was that girl!

Fanny, Chris, They are fast asleep. Al., & Genie

All Awake, sleepers! Hear us call thee to rise. Awake, sleepers! Let us gaze on thine eyes. Ope thine eyes, fair sleepers, ope thine eyes.

Fanny, Al. & Chris No guardian of the peace can with thee trot   Nor match thee in a dozing bee; The seven sleepers were a wakeful lot,   And not to be compared at all to thee. Great sleepers— All     Sleepers, awake!

Song—Genie

A patient egg had waited long   To bloom into a chicken, Until its feelings grew so strong   Its plot began to thicken. And soon to it the fact was plain—   Which dropped its pride a peg— It was most undeniably   A failure as an egg.

Chorus Did it despair? Genie         Oh, no, no, no!   It said, “Despite my age “I’ll do what many failures do:   “I’ll go upon the stage.”

  “Oh, cluck-a-tuck-a-tuck!” its mother cackled     When that egg came on this earth; She felt her offspring would achieve both fame and glory.   Surprising was his luck when life he tackled.     Though an egg of humble birth, At last he rose to be the hero of this story.

Chorus   Oh, cluck-a-tuck-a-tuck, etc.

Genie That egg in silence bore its wrong,   The world kept getting colder, Meanwhile the subject of our song   Continued growing older. Until a little gall’ry boy   One bright and happy day Bought up that brave and patient egg   And took it to the play.

Chorus And then it laughed— Genie         “Ah ha ha ha!   “At last I’m sure of it: I’m bound to go upon the stage,   And make an awful hit.”

  Oh, cluck-a-tuck-tuck, etc.

Genie The play of Hamlet was the bill.   The cast was queer and seedy. ’Twas headed by an awful pill—   An amateur Macready. And when he came upon the scene,   According to its plan, The patient egg went on the stage   And hit the leading man!

Chorus So ne’er despair! Genie         Oh, no, no, no!   When trouble comes, I beg That you’ll recall this touching tale   And omulate the egg.

  Oh, cluck-a-tuck-tuck, etc.

Duet—Amine and Scotty

Amine Young Torah Tep was the boy for me; A wonderful acrobat was he; His legs were long, his air was solemn; He had no ribs nor spinal column. Whene’er he wanted to win my eye, He would proceed with a hauteur high To wear himself as his own necktie   And rivals thus defy.

Sco. Don’t talk of Torah Tep to me; Such feats are plain as A, B, C. No self-respecting acrobat Today would stoop to stuff like that. Could Torah, whom you hold so dear, Like a true lover’s knot appear, Or promenade upon his ear?   Two tricks that I have pat!

Both Oh, who so proud as the man who knows How to tie his elbows round his nose, Or who himself at times amuses By making of his legs slip-nooses! All innocent he of vertebrae; He, in his jointless, boneless way, Lives his unusual careless day—   The happy acrobat!

Finale—Act II

Song—Aladdin, Amine, Genie, and Vizier

All By accident all of our sorrows are turned to joy.   Although we must dissemble, We’ve found a law that will frighten the Yankee boy   And will no doubt make him tremble.

Genie In writings of the sages, On musty, dusty pages, In the book on heritages,   We have found this ancient law:

All “If any one,” the sages say,   “Should steal the lamp, just then “Its power fails, until the day   “It’s stolen back again.”

Hush, hush! Hush, hush! Hush! We’ll temporize while he is nestling in balmy sleep.   Awake, he might prove cranky. The lamp we’ll grab; then in a dungeon both dank and deep   We will lock this little Yankee.

In writings of the sages, etc.

Chris Give me the lamp! You are robbers, cowards! [To Genie] I command you: help me!

Al. What? He obey you? He cannot do it! [triumphantly] I hold the lamp, and he becomes my slave again!

Genie Now toddle along, like a good little chap;   You are out of the game just now. Tall talking’s no good, and I won’t let you scrap,   So to chance you must meekly bow.

Chris If you’re half a man, you’ll fight me.

Al. Nothing, sir, will so delight me.

Fanny Desist! Refrain! What means this sanguinary scene? Whate’er your quarrel, I beg to intervene.

Al. Sweet Princess, the wondrous lamp is mine, And it—and all I have—is thine.

Fanny [recit.] No, no! Perhaps I’ll flirt, perhaps coquette, But I’m a girl who never yet Saw royal prince or coronet   That I’d exchange for a Yankee boy.

Song—Fanny, Aladdin, Chris, Miss Prisms, Captain, Genie, and Vizier

Fanny The bold Yankee boy is the boast of his nation;   There’s no land where his equal has ever been known. He’s the careless and crownless young king of creation—   Mighty monarch who needs neither sceptre nor throne.

Genie   For at planning or doing   Or fighting or wooing Or whatever you choose, he’s a pride and a joy.

All   To the maid who would mate,   No prize is so great, As the love of a true-born Yankee boy.

Genie & Viz. Of a Kentucky boy— Or a New Hampshire boy— All An American boy!

The bold Yankee boy, etc.

A king who needs neither sceptre nor throne—   For he is an American boy.

Fanny Come, Chris, we will go home. Al. [intercepting them]   Ah, pardon, sweet princess; you must remain. Chris Must? How dare you say it?   From insistent language please refrain.

Genie   ’Tis the midnight hour! The gates of fairyland are locked!   All must remain to-night, For ev’ry door and gate is blocked.

Miss P. As chaperone, I’ll pick the bone.   Come here at once, I say.

Al. & Genie Please understand that we demand   You let us go our way.

Miss P. [spoken] Come, children.

Genie If she gets mad she’ll thrash us all. Suppose the household troops we call.

Al. All right!

Song—Aladdin, Genie, and Omnes

Al. The man behind the gun! Stand ever ready to defend him! When the call to battle’s sounding Anxious words he’s not propounding But it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!” ’Tis not the hour for meditation, Mincing words, or explanation, But it’s “Up and at ’em, boys! Charge!”

See his gallant charge! May luck and victory attend him! Watch him rallying and fighting; Now the foe the dust is biting, For it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!” The battle rages fast and faster To the foeman’s great disaster, For it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!”

All Oh, crown him hero of our land!   He’ll fight till the battle’s won. Oh, brave heart of a valiant band,   The man behind the gun!

Genie Is he just treated right For all of the sacrifice he’s making? When he shivers in the trenches, And the rain his body drenches, It is “Up and at ’em, boys!” Far in the fields he stands as picket; Hark! a shot comes from the thicket, And it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!”

He rests upon his arms, And, when the morning light is breaking, See him warm each icy finger By the smold’ring coals that linger; Then it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!” What, though his comrades die about him? Whizzing bullets cannot rout him, For it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!”

All Oh, crown him hero of our land, etc.

Viz. Prepare to receive With a crook of your knees And a bow of forty-five degrees,   A new-made dignitary! Though honor’d she be, She’s not envied by me, For her post is very far from free   From dangers mortuary.

Fanny Officially appointed I   As story-teller to the court; To charm Aladdin I must try   With stories of the proper sort. And my demise will soon ensue   Should he be bored by one of these; So I have come to learn from you   What stories will Aladdin please.

Fanny Let us a sample hear of your invention.

Viz. And now to their advice give close attention.

Fanny   “By my grandma I’ve been told—” Viz. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Stop where you are!

Fanny [trying again]   “In the golden days of old—” Viz. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That line we bar!

Fanny “Once there lived a good young king—” Viz.     That will not do!

Fanny You’re not pleased with anything! Viz.     Try something new!

Fanny Then listen while I sing of Love and Celestine.

Song—Fanny and Chorus

Fanny “Where is Love?” said Celestine— Chorus     A shepherdess was she. Fanny “Who is Love?” said Celestine— Chorus     “Where may his dwelling be?” Fanny And then she heard with sad surprise That Love is a lad in simple guise, Fair and young with sightless eyes— Chorus     Dear eyes that never see. Fanny Soft and deep the maiden’s sighs— Chorus     A tender heart had she.

Fanny So sweet Celestine went forth to find Young Cupid whom sages said was blind.   “Ah,” sighing, “Where is he?”   “Ah,” sighing, “Where is he?” That for the poor lad she ever might care; Her cottage with him to share.   “Ah,” sighing, etc.

Chorus Ah, sweet Love, lonely and blind,     She went to find. Fanny Far eastward and westward she went,     Love-tokens eagerly sent.

Chorus Did Cupid ever reply By word or glances of eye? Fanny Not he; though she sought day by day— Chorus Dan Cupid was ever away. All   Ever away, ever away—   Cupid was ever away.

For a year sought Celestine— Fanny     But all in vain she sought. All Far and near sought Celestine— Fanny     The seeking brought her naught. When to her home she turned once more   A-weary of heart was she; There stood Love beside her door— There stood Love beside the door!

This is the moral of this little tale: All Those who seek for love must fail. For him in vain you’ll search the wide world through; ’Tis Love who must come to you.

Song—Genie, Fanny, Chris, Miss Prisms, and Scotty

Genie When Wagner had the lamp, he came one day to me, “Oh, I really am in an awful fix, and can’t get out,” said he. “For in my latest work I cannot end Act Two; “Of ten finales none will suit; I don’t know what to do.”

All He was the nicest man (I/he) ever worked for; (I’m/He’s) telling you the truth, so do not doubt (me/him).   He was clever, (I/he’ll) admit,   And talented a bit, But he couldn’t do a blessed thing without (me/him)!

Genie When Forrest had the lamp, he ruled the local stage. I really showed him how to act, and made him all the rage. You’d ne’er have heard of Ned if me he’d never met. A lot of things I taught to him; the rest are doing yet.

All He was the nicest man, etc.

Finale

Fanny The man behind the gun! Stand ever ready to defend him! When the call to battle’s sounding Anxious words he’s not propounding But it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!” ’Tis not the hour for meditation, Mincing words, or explanation, But it’s “Up and at ’em, boys! Charge!”

See his gallant charge! May luck and victory attend him! Watch him rallying and fighting; Now the foe the dust is biting, For it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!” The battle rages fast and faster To the foeman’s great disaster, For it’s “Up and at ’em, boys!”

All Oh, crown him hero of our land!   He’ll fight till the battle’s won. Oh, brave heart of a valiant band,   The man behind the gun!

Chorus

To Aladdin a health we will drain   In a wine that to none is inferior; For over us long may he reign;   As a prince he is very superior!

    Fill the cup;       Fill it high.     Fill it up;       Drink it dry     To Aladdin, fair Prince of Etheria—     To Aladdin, fair Prince of Etheria!

Here in Etheria we of the faster set Make life a merry dance marked by the castanet. Sweetly our melodies charm the auricular; Tinkles the tambourine, murmurs the light guitar.   Tra la, tra la, tra la, tra la,   Tra la, tra la, tra la la la la la!

To Aladdin a health we will drain, etc.

Song—Genie

Though Broadway is the only street   They celebrate in song, New York can show some other lanes   I’d rather stroll along. I’d happy be could I but see   Just one of them to-day, And with those people promenade   Who walk and talk this way.

How de doody doody doo!   You are looking deuced jolly!   How are Weginald and Cholly, And, old fellow, how are you? There goes Kitty Van Der Spicer; There is weally not a nicer Or a sweetah little creechah   On Fifth Av-e-nue.

There is another thoroughfare   That by its lonesome stands; In vain to find its match you search   Our own and other lands. Ablaze with light it is all night;   No street is quite as gay; And when its people promenade,   They walk and talk this way:

Hully smoke an’ hully gee!   You kin pinch me for a dago   If you ain’t the real gazaybo, Just der best I ever see! That’s me gal, an’ she’s a looloo! Wid her iv’ries full of tulu Little Lizzie knocks ’em dizzy   On der Bow-er-ie.

Song—Genie, Scotty, and Dolls

Genie When the spirit that’s born of the wine   Through your veins like a torrent is pushing; When with frenzy that’s almost divine   You are throbbing and pulsing and gushing; When all that is left of your brain   Wild schemes of enjoyment is planning—     The thought comes, perchance,     Of the gay dance of France,   And you find yourself madly cancanning!

All Hi, hi, huzza! Piff! boum! ha, ha!   The dance is waiting; let us go! For its whirl our souls are sighing, And our heels would fain be flying Through its mazes, gaily dashing, Hearts a-beating, eyes a-flashing,   Rosy cheeks aglow! Hi, hi, huzza! Piff! boum! ha, ha!   Oh, let the day   Bring what it may If we may dance the night away.   So brief and fleet   Its course so sweet; With frowns the golden dawn we greet!

Genie When with paint of the ruddiest hue   The old town you are neatly adorning— When the time is ten bottles past two,   You start home with the milk of the morning. When with the first pang of remorse   Such nights in the future you’re banning,     The thought comes, perchance,     Of the gay dance of France,   And you find yourself madly cancanning!

All Hi, hi, huzza!, etc.

Genie The night we will give to wine,   To revelry, till the day. All Then let us sing till rafters ring   A frolicking, rollicking lay! Genie If rid you would be of cares,   Try drowning ’em in the drink! All     So charge your glass,     Let bumpers pass,   And merrily, cheerily clink!

Genie Keen repentance comes to-morrow   Of the deep and dark brown sort. Yet why should we vain trouble borrow?   Ho! garçon! bring another quart!

All Bromo-Seltzer comes to-morrow;   With it, cracked ice upon the brow. This is the price we pay in sorrow   For what we are enjoying now.

Genie Then here’s to the wine, etc.

[Can-can chorus repeated.]

Quintette—Fanny, Chris, Genie, Scotty, and Miss Prisms

Chris Etheria at last we’ve found,   And here we are to stay; For ere we five are homeward bound   A year may pass away. Here in a palace free of rent, Without a care, on pleasure bent, We’ll agitate the Orient   And raise the deuce to pay!

Others Pleasant, very! Chris   Upon your aid may I depend? Others Don’t you worry! Genie   Just count me out of that, my friend!     For Fairyland a bore is     After all the glories That make life not worth living far away from gay Broadway.

Naught is more fascinating, Livening, exhilarating, Sprightly and elevating,   Than to amble in this way: Top-hats politely tipping, Over gutters lightly skipping, While quite correctly tripping   Down Broadway.

Genie Etheria at last we’ve found;   A dead slow place it is. No trolley cars go buzzing ’round;   No automobiles whiz. For it I do not care a cent; Away from town I’m ne’er content. I’d swap this mystic Orient   For one small bot of fizz!

Others Naughty, very! Genie   My townward way I’d like to wend. Others In a hurry! Chris   You may be right, at that.

If I’m to be a cipher in this worky, weary world—   And it seems the one best bet that I’m to be—     I’ve devoted time and thought     To the character of nought   That possesses most attractiveness for me.     I’ve been figuring to know     The special kind of “O”   That has the most attractiveness for me!

[second verse apparently missing]

I’ve often thought I’d like to be the atmospheric space   In the middle of a doughnut brown and small.     And without me doughnuts would     Not be nearly half so good;   In point of fact, they wouldn’t be at all!     Only think—to be an “O”     Compassed all about by dough—   Which, if it were gone, you wouldn’t be at all!

At times I’ve longed to be the hole within a dotted Swissy cheese,   Or an eyelet on a lovely lady’s shoe;     And attraction seems to lurk     In the meshy open work—   I could be the “nought” of naughty peek-a-boo!     I should love, upon my soul,     To be nothing but a hole—   It’s the most important part of peek-a-boo.

Fanny The swagger of the boys as they gaily march   To the sound of the regimental bands, And the flashing dashing air of the General   As he shouts forth his orders and commands, Together with the horses’ graceful step   As up the avenue they prance, Makes a picture that thrills ev’ry patriot soul   With its glamour and its weird romance.