This is Leonard Liebling and John Philip Sousa’s comic operetta The Glass-Blowers, transcribed and edited by Arthur O’Dwyer (2025).
So far, this is just a transcription of the piano/vocal score (John Church Co., 1913). I lack a (public-domain) source for the book.
Many small corrections, especially to punctuation, have been made quietly. Larger corrections, issues, and notes are marked in the text like this, with further details in the mouseover text.
The typographical presentation is inspired by Asimov’s Annotated Gilbert & Sullivan (1988).
A version of The Glass-Blowers edited by Jerrold Fisher was staged by Glimmerglass Opera in 2000 and 2002. The Victorian Lyric Opera Company of Rockville, Maryland, produced a semi-staged version of The American Maid in 2012. It’s unclear to me whether either production included dialogue, and if so whether the dialogue was due more to Liebling’s efforts or to Fisher’s.
See also The American Maid’s entry in Paul E. Bierley’s The Works of John Philip Sousa (1984); some newspaper clippings on the subject; and various manuscript fragments from the Library of Congress’ Sousa collection (box 1 folder 2).
Words by Leonard Liebling
Music by John Philip Sousa
First produced at the Schubert Theatre in Rochester, New York, on January 27, 1913
[Discovers Mrs. Vandeveer and Guests. They are busy with the final preparations before the arrival of the guests. Spoken over music.]
Mrs. V. Everything looks right now. Can you think of anything else, Gawkins?
Gawk. Nothing else, Madame.
Mrs. V. Before all things, you must see that the Duke of Branford does not slip in unannounced. [Imitating announcement] “His Grace the Duke of Branford.”
Gawk. Yes, madame, thank you. [Repeats in manner of Mrs. V.] “His Grace the Duke of Branford.”
[Door bell rings. Enter Gladys, Helen, Veronica, Alice, etc. House-maids enter and help the girls take off their wraps and carriage shoes.]
Song—Girls and Housemaids
It would be very hard to get Among the smartest city set A bevy fair to equal this, The pride of the metropolis. (We/They) all belong, it’s clear to see, To Gotham’s best society.
And here (we/they) are at four o’clock In choicest bib and latest frock With nothing in the world to do But show (ourselves/themselves)—that’s entre nous.
Mrs. V. Before the rush most wise ’twould be To take a cup or two of tea— Girls And Gladys tell without delay The latest gossip of the day.
Gladys Two social pets with pedigrees— Girls Yes! Gladys They fought like aborigines— Girls Yes! Who were they? Tell us, oh, do, please! Gladys [to Mrs. V.] ’Twas my bull pup and your Maltese. Girls Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! ’Twas your bull pup and your Maltese!
Girls & Maids (Our/Their) deeds and thoughts by day, and those nocturnal, By ev’ry daily journal Are painted quite infernal And black as ink; The daily press most certainly does prize (us/them) So much to advertise (us/them), Now, really, don’t you think?
(Our/Their) deeds and thoughts, etc.
[Mrs. Vandeveer arranges the tea-wagon and serves tea and sandwiches with the aid of the girls and maids.]
Recitative
Gawk. [announcing] Mister Smart and lady; The Misses Short; The Muchly–Longs; The Count and Countess Von Hohenstaupellaufenwitz.
[Enter Guests. The three Smiths bustle in unannounced; they make themselves at home. Mrs. Vandeveer greets the Count and Countess effusively.]
Recitative
Mrs. V. Oh, you’re just the dearest dearest dear. Count & Countess The pleasure’s ours; we’re glad we’re here.
Mrs. V. [to the Smiths] Your names escape me, I confess. Smiths [indicating each other] (He’s/I’m) John, (he’s/I’m) James, (he’s/I’m) Jerry S. Mrs. V. Ah, yes. I’m very glad you’re here. You’ll find the whiskey over there. Smiths [with importance] Excuse us if we disappear; Your words sound good to us.
Chorus
Girls & Maids Society, we bow to thee; Who would not be a devotee? Of us there’s not a single one Who lives for anything but fun. We dress, and dance, and eat, and drink, And never of the future think.
Men Someday they’ll have to wed, of course. Maids But that won’t matter; there’s divorce. Men And then they’ll cut a wider dash Maids With hubby’s alimonial cash.
Mrs. V. [shaking finger] When I was young, in days of old, We never dared to be so bold.
Chorus That’s just why we appreciate To live in eighteen ninety-eight.
Gladys [mysteriously] I read a scandal yesterday I really could not, dare not, say.
Girls [crowding around her] Unless you tell us what and who, We’ll never speak again to you.
Gladys Her dress—you never would believe— Was minus bodice, skirt, or sleeve! Girls You must be joking, we perceive. Gladys Why, no—I mean old mother Eve. Girls Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! We see she means old mother Eve!
Our deeds and thoughts by day, and those nocturnal, By ev’ry daily journal Are painted quite infernal And black as ink; The daily press most certainly does prize us So much to advertise us, Now, really, don’t you think? Please think!
Society, we bow, we bow to thee. Though often painted quite infernal, Ah, who would not be a devotee, So much to advertise us, Now, really, don’t you think? Please think!
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Geraldine and Chorus
Ger. The dramatist of yesterday was certainly a yap. He didn’t cater to the mob; he knew not vim or snap. The Bard of Avon—this is not a knock not yet a boost— Would have an awful time to-day to get Macbeth produced Unless he made the witches six tall show-girls dressed in green, A pony ballet full of ginger in the cauldron scene, With up-to-date vocabulary for each pretty miss, To follow with a swishy dance the lines that go like this: [Mysteriously] “Thrice the brindled cat hath mewed, “Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. All “Harpies cry—’Tis time, ’tis time.”
Ger. Round the cauldron the ladies go; They’re the hit of the Shakespeare show. For old Macbeth’s not much; He can’t play it in Dutch; Round the cauldron the ladies go.
Chorus Round the cauldron, etc.
Ger. J. Caesar’s Roman soldiers, as they journeyed to their fights, Would have to pose as Amazons and march in purple tights. King Richard Third would no more spring that old and honored spiel About his kingdom for a horse, but an automobile. Othello’d have to have a song to sing in baritone Like “The Sun Shines on Morocco,” or “My Darling Desdemone”; While Antony, of regal Cleopatra growing fond, Might get a hand with his new song “My Gal’s a Strawb’ry Blonde.”
Duke [recit.] Come, let’s have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more. Let’s mock the midnight bell.
Ger. Cleopatra’s a strawb’ry blonde. Of dat lady I sho’ am fond. She’s a beautiful red On the top of her head; Cleopatra’s a strawb’ry blonde.
Chorus Cleopatra’s a strawb’ry blonde, etc.
[Dialogue omitted.]
Duet—Geraldine and Duke
Ger. She was dainty as a fairy Of some story legendary; Just a trifle mercenary, I regret. Though she led on his advances, Heard his passionate romances, She congealed his ardent glances When they met.
In the dimness of twilight he told his love, And over and over he cried: “I love you, yes, love you, “And wish you to be my bride.” All blushing she whispered, “I’m young and shy, “But if you are really sincere, “I’ll love you, yes, love you, “If you’ll give me ten thousand a year.”
Duke With a dolce far niente He said, “Ten? Why, make it twenty.” “Ten will do,“ she said; “that’s plenty. “Name the day.” After marriage he grew colder; Never lost a chance to scold her; When she asked for money told her “Go away.”
In the dimness of twilight she told her love, And over and over she cried, “I love you, yes, love you, “And when I became your bride, “You promised to give me a tidy sum. “It’s long overdue, hubby dear. “So tell me, come tell me, “Where’s my little ten thousand a year?”
Ger. He got madder than a hatter And he raised an awful clatter, But she was a good stand-patter, Heaven knows. Duke Then they said things to each other Till she wired for her mother, And he told his bach’lor brother All his woes. Ger. All his woes— Duke All his woes— Ger. All his woes.
Both In the dimness of the twilight he told his love, And over and over he cried, “Oh, leave me, yes, leave me; “You’ll never more be my bride.” All blushing she whispered, “I’m young, but wise, “And if you are really sincere, “I’ll leave you, yes, leave you, “If you’ll give me ten thousand a year.”
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Annabelle, Mrs. V., and Chorus
Ann. I cannot understand a bit, when all is done and said, Why girls are brought into this world for nothing but to wed; A matrimonial barbecue, the social marriage mart, That’s all we’re really meant for, and we’re perfect in the part.
Ann. & Mrs. V. When (I/she) was but a tiny tot, a trusting little girl, (My/Her) nurse taught (me/her) to primp and puff, beribbon and becurl, To smirk and smile and talk with ease, to move with style and grace, To deck (myself/herself) in clothes that match the contour of (my/her) face.
Ann. Oh, why did cruel fate ordain that I become a miss? Would that I always had retained the ignorance that’s bliss, And stayed forever and a day in childhood’s fairy land Where ev’ryone and ev’rything are good and pure and grand.
Ann., Mr. & Mrs. V. Little Miss Muffet, She sat on a tuffet Eating her curds and whey; Along came a spider And sat down beside her And frightened Miss Muffet away.
Old Mother Hubbard, She went to the cupboard To get her poor doggy a bone;
Ann. And all the rest— I loved the best The simple runes And pretty tunes, The winsome ways And dear old lays, Ah, dream, dream, dream, dream, Of childhood’s happy days.
Mrs. V. ’Tis bitter so to hear you speak And mock of marriage mart. Col. V. Quite free you are to listen to The dictates of your heart. Mrs. V. If gold or title, pride of rank, Do not appeal to you, Col. V. Perhaps a little mountain home More fully meets your view.
Ann. Oh, love in a cottage is all very well— Mr. & Mrs. V. But that doesn’t meet her wishes. Ann. I’m really afraid I would surely rebel— Mr. & Mrs. V. At scrubbing and washing dishes. Ann. A breakfast of kisses served à l’epicure Would no doubt be lovely, though cloying; But repeated for luncheon and dinner, I’m sure, Would prove just a slight bit annoying. Mr. & Mrs. V. Most annoying! All For your breakfast and luncheon and dinner ’twould prove most annoying.
Ann. Not for your darling daughter, Not for your loving child. Living on bread and water Truly is rather mild. It doesn’t at all enthuse me And isn’t exactly wild. Not for your darling daughter—not for me. Mr. & Mrs. V. No! not for our darling daughter, Not for our loving child. Living on bread and water Truly is rather mild. Mrs. V. Not for our darling daughter— Col. V. Not for our loving child.
All Not for your darling daughter—not for (me/she).
Mrs. V. If gold and romance, rank and love, Meet with your opposition, Pray tell us, if you know yourself, What is your real ambition?
Ann. In days of old, the suitor bold Risk’d all for lady fair, Rode forth with steed to gallant deed, To fight, and do, and dare. A soldier’s bride with pomp and pride Is what I’d like to be. A man who leads, nor danger heeds, Is the kind of man for me.
With foes round him pressing, Whatever the conflict’s tide, No fear e’er confessing, I’d follow close by his side. The booming of cannon and rattling of drum and fife— With trumpet sounding And hearts rebounding— That is life!
Chorus With foes round him pressing, etc.
Hark! the Gatling gun, Gatling gun, Gatling gun! Hark! the Gatling gun, Gatling gun, Gatling gun! Brr——
With foes round him pressing, etc.
[Exeunt all save Annabelle.]
[Dialogue omitted.]
Vocal Scherzo—Annabelle, Geraldine, Gladys, Helen, Veronica, Jack, Duke, and the Three Smiths
Jack Oh, busy I’ll be as a bee or a beaver; Jack, James, & John I’m burning all over with working-man’s fever; Yes, busy as seventeen twinlets of Siam— Ann. [overlapping] He’s busy as seventeen twinlets of Siam— Ger. & Jerry You will? Well, you won’t be as busy as I am— Jack For, beelike, improving the shining young minute— James & John [overlapping] The shining young minute! Ann. & Ger. You have to extract all the sweetness that’s in it. Duke It’s beastly to work when you’re rich as a banker; For manual labor I never did hanker. Jack & Duke No five-o’clock teas and no midnight cotillions— Ann. & Ger. [overlapping] No midnight cotillions! You won’t have much leisure to count up your millions. Gladys, Ver., Hel., & Smiths Oh, ambitious man, we hope you will be able To work like the typical Trojans of fable— Ger. [overlapping] To work like the typical Trojans of fable.
All Don’t let up a minute, though flurried and dizzy; Your watchword is “Work” and your motto “Get Busy,” “Get Busy”! Go get busy and hustle, For life is a tussle, No matter what circle you’re in. And labor diurnal, Incessant, infernal; One hardly knows where to begin. (I’m/He’s) so busy! Though social existence Looks nice from a distance, It isn’t a little that way. It’s bother and worry, And hustle and hurry, For this is (my/his) busy day!
Jack So up with the lark and to bed with the rooster, Jack, James, & John Not keeping late hours as I formerly useter; (My/His) breakfast at daybreak, (my/his) supper at sundown— Ann. [overlapping] His breakfast at daybreak, his supper at sundown! Ger. & Jerry On Sunday to Coney you surely will run down— Jack I will, if they’ll charge but one fare on the trolley— James & John [overlapping] One fare on the trolley! Ann. & Ger. In idling a minute to you is a folly. Duke Eight hours a day will be hardly enough work For one like yourself who is pining for tough work. Jack & Duke To labor all day (I’ve/you’ve) an absolute passion— Ann. & Ger. [overlapping] An absolute passion! Excuse me, dear Jack, but you’re not in the fashion. Gladys, Ver., Hel., & Smiths Oh, ambitious man, we hope you will be able To work like the typical Trojans of fable— Ger. [overlapping] To work like the typical Trojans of fable.
All Don’t let up a minute, etc.
[Spanish barn dance.]
All For this is (my/his) busy day!
[Dialogue omitted.]
Duet—Jack and Stumpy
Jack The time is nigh To bid goodbye To fashionable frills. Stumpy You say the time has come to say goodbye? Jack For I never more will dress— That is, to a wild excess. Stumpy Then no longer will I tie your crimson tie.
Jack Give my poker chips to brother, My pajamas send to mother; I will wear a cotton “nightie” till I die.
Both Fare ye well, oh frills of fashion; Fare ye well, oh social smirk; For your slave has formed a passion For the novelty of work. Though Martin and Del and Sherry and old Reisenweber roar, In the future they will see (me/him) nevermore.
Stumpy Is it to be Goodbye to me As well as fashion’s ways? Jack You certainly have got to quickly trot. Stumpy I’m an orphan small and frail, And my poor old dad’s in jail. Jack Oh, my heart is saddened at your saddened lot. Stumpy Who will put you in your bed, sir, When to all the world you’re dead, sir? You will miss your little Stumpy on the spot.
Both Fare ye well, oh frills of fashion; Fare ye well, oh social smirk; For your slave has formed a passion For the novelty of work. Though the Waldorf, Shanley’s, Rector’s, and Imperial get sore, In the future they will see (me/him) nevermore!
[Dialogue omitted.]
Finale—Act I
Duke Most omniscient maid, I would by your aid Geraldine to hasten into saying yes. Ann. Do you love her true? Does she love you too? Duke That I have not asked her, I confess. Ann. That you have not asked her you confess. Duke That I have not—that I have not asked her I confess. Ann. Then how do you think the maiden can say yes?
Has she answered “no,” Said that you should go, And informed you that your pleading was of no avail? Duke Neither yea nor nay Would she plainly say. Ann. Ah, neither yea nor nay would she plainly say; a most significant detail. Make profession warm, Capture her by storm, Tell her how you’re eating out your heart in grief! Duke Oh, I pray, suggest Vows that are the best. Ann. These are some that always win belief:
By the stars, Venus, Mars, By the dashing, splashing wavelets of the sea, By the wooing, cooing dovelets in the tree, By the larking, sparking lambkins on the lea; Hear my plea: I love thee! Your own lovey dovey I shall ever be.
In the twilight and the dawning, In the night and noon and morning, When you smile and when you’re yawning I’ll love thee.
Oh, fickle he!
My daughter she!
Oh, fickle she!
What do I see?
Duke By the stars—
Ah, by the stars!
Why by the stars?
Oh, bless the stars!
Oh, hang the stars!
Duke Venus, Mars—
Great soldier Mars!
His action jars!
Great soldier Mars!
Go take the cars!
Duke & Ann. By the dashing, splashing wavelets of the sea—
He is swearing oaths he ought to swear to me.
He is telling of his home beyond the sea.
Hang the dashing, splashing wavelets of the sea!
Bah!
Duke & Ann. By the wooing, cooing dovelets in the tree—
And the cooing, wooing lambkins out at sea—
Bah!
Duke & Ann. By the larking, sparking lambkins on the lea—
I can very plainly see
I can very plainly see
This is much too much for me;
Bah!
Duke Hear my plea—
I like your plea;
She likes his plea;
She hears his plea;
Oh, Dukey, flee;
Duke I love thee—
I love but thee;
He loves but (she/thee);
She loves not me;
She puzzles me;
Duke & Ann. Your own lovey dovey I shall ever be.
Her own toots he’ll ever be.
Bah!
All In the twilight and the dawning, In the night and noon and morning, When you smile and when you’re yawning, (I’ll/She’ll) love thee.
Duke I love but thee. Ann. & Ger. She’ll love but thee. Duke I love but thee. Mrs. V. & Jack He loves but she. Duke I love but thee. Ann. & Ger. She loves but thee. Duke I love but thee. Mrs. V. & Jack She loves but thee. Duke I love but thee.
All In the twilight and the dawning, In the noontime and the morning, (I/She) will love but thee.
[Mrs. Vandeveer shakes hands with Duke; embraces Annabelle.]
Recitative
Mrs. V. [to Duke] My son, my blessings on your Grace. My child, this is your proper place.
Ann. A most amusing situation. Ger. Accept my heart’s congratulation.
Duke I pray you heed not what you saw. Jack I’d like to crack him in the jaw!
Oh, bliss!
Oh, rot!
Ger. [to Duke] You base deceiver! You said I was your sweetest sweet. I’ll wreak my vengeance: I’ll wed the first man that I meet.
Jack [to Ann.] Oh, base deceiver! Hard-hearted maid! Syrenic cheat! I’ll wreak my vengeance: I’ll wed the first girl that I meet.
[Geraldine and Jack turn and look at each other. With measured stride they come face to face.]
Ger. & Jack I’m yours!
[They embrace effusively.]
Duke This is very bad; But I’m no blooming cad; I’ll make it quite alright for Annabelle. Miss Vandeveer, I pray, Please name our wedding day. Ann. Just when ’twill be I cannot tell.
[They join hands. Mrs. Vandeveer in pantomime blesses them.
[Geraldine, running toward music room, throwing open portière, beckons to guests. Enter Mr. and Mrs. Pompton.]
Recitative—Geraldine
I pray you all, my friends, appear And tidings of great import hear. Duke Branford North Fitz-Somerset, And Earl the Fourth Plantagenet, And Percy, Max, and Knight as well, Of Halifax and then Pall Mall, Is pledged to marry Annabelle.
Song—Geraldine
A duchess so grand Of Britain’s best brand Our Annabelle soon will be made. The ways she’ll affect Of England’s elect, In pomp and purple all arrayed.
The King she will meet Quite en famille; I wish I was she and she was me. A crown on her head By day and in bed, To tell her from common bourgeoisie.
Duke Allow me to state— Ann. Before it’s too late— Ger. She’ll sit on a throne of plush. Chorus All hail to the twain! Long may they reign. Jack I wish them hailing, and raining, and slush.
Ger. Ah, with a tiara-ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ray. All With a tiara-ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ray. Ger. & Jack A-visiting at Windsor Castle twice a day. Going to the tower, Almost every hour, And driving to the Abbey With your private cabby, As befits your very very high degree; Carrying a scepter down through Regent Street, Into Piccadilly, Don’t you care how silly; Trotting in your suite A bunch of the élite, Then you will be a real grandee.
Jack The choir will croon A niggery tune When Annabelle changes her name, And marries the Duke In sword and peruke And joins the crème de la crème.
A house they will have in Grosvenor Square; It’s almost too much for me to bear; And lackeys a score— Maybe twenty-four— All dressed in knee pants and powdered hair.
Duke My friend, I implore— Ann. Pray say nothing more— Ger. Sing hurrah, and hurrah hurray! Chorus Long live these peers One hundred years. Jack And for my part you may add one more day, With a tiara-ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ray. All With a tiara-ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ra, ra ray. Ger. & Jack A-visiting at Windsor, etc. All A-visiting at Windsor, etc.
[General dance.
[During the last chorus and/or dance, enter A. D. T. Messenger Boy.]
Boy [as the music and dancing continues] Telegram for Colonel Vandeveer.
[Colonel Vandeveer takes telegram and reads. He shows great agitation; goes to Mr. Pompton and speaks under strong stress. The dance continues, but very softly.]
Col. V. The Syndicate refuses to buy the Cuban-American mine. My broker tells me I need five million dollars to protect my holdings. Pompton, as a Wall-street man, you’ll help me—you’ll help me out. A loan—?
Mr. P. I can’t. All my money is in another deal.
[Colonel Vandeveer staggers and sinks into chair. Annabelle hastens to him. The dance stops suddenly.]
Ann. What is it, father?
Mrs. V. Speak—what’s happened?
Col. V. We’re absolutely ruined—penniless—paupers.
[Gawkins listens intently, then hurries off.]
Mr. P. [to Mrs. Pompton] I’m back of the Syndicate.
[Enter the Chorus of Male Kitchen Servants.]
Chorus
We have waited six months for our pay, And some money we must have to-day. If you cannot settle now, There will be a jolly row. We won’t linger longer, but we’ll away.
Ann. What degradation, Humiliation! I thought at least that you were men.
[Indignantly tearing off her jewels and giving them to Servants]
Though we now sorrow, There comes a morrow, All (And Father’s/Her father’s/My husband’s) star will rise again!
Chorus [obsequiously] Most politely we bid you adieu, Thus concluding this bright interview. Though our actions shocking are, We are not particular In demanding wages when they are due.
[Male Kitchen Servants exit with dignity.]
Ann. Mister Pompton, I have a favor to ask. Please do not refuse me.
Mr. P. [harshly] What do you want?
Ann. Will you give me employment in your factory?
Yes, I’ll give you work.
What! a working girl!
Ann. [with great passion] Yes, working girl I will be!
Mr. P. I’ll employ you.
Chorus It is best that we should go. It is growing late, you know. Good-bye.
Mr. P. Report at the fact’ry at seven tomorrow.
Jack Me too?
Farewell, friends, forever; Fondest ties must sever. Farewell! Farewell! Farewell one and all.
Farewell, not forever; Fond hearts must not sever. Farewell! Farewell! Not for one and all.
Sympathetic hearts grieve at your fate; Still we notice it’s getting quite late, So we really have to go. This is op’ra night, you know, And Lucia warbles sharply at eight.
Jack Annabelle—
[Annabelle sits beside her parents and lovingly places her arms about them.]
Ann. Farewell, Father, Mother; Our star will rise again.
Jack [in a whisper] She is an angel!
[Slow curtain.]
Chorus
We chant a song Of labor hard and long. In life for us there’s only work. Duty never shirk, Toiling all the day, Getting little pay, And slaving harder than a Turk.
In molding glass The time we mostly pass. We do not claim excessive grace; Black our hands and face. Souvenirs of toil Fairest looks despoil, For we’re the working populace.
Basses We have the brawn; Sop. & Alt. We possess the brains; Tenors From early dawn Sop. & Alt. No one rest obtains. All So light the flame; Heat the molten mass; Tenors And make the fame Of Pompton’s glass. Basses The first glow— Sop. & Alt. ’Tis the time to blow. Ten. & Bas. If we delay— Sop. & Alt. They won’t earn their pay. All Then let us work and make more stock; The minutes watch till twelve o’clock.
In molding glass, etc.
Ah, see the wondrous way the workman woos the glass; Crystal lights are dancing, Fairy eyes are glancing. Fantastic forms emerge from out the molten mass; Rays of sunshine flashing, Ocean waves seem dashing. Ah, see the wondrous way, etc.
Of purest ray and finest ring, The praises of our glass we sing.
[Enter Stumpy.]
Chorus
Chorus My love is a blower, He’s a blower, he’s a blower, Oh, my love is a blower, And he loves only me.
And he blows pretty glasses, Pretty glasses, pretty glasses, And he kisses the lasses, But he loves only me.
Rose [dancing with Stumpy] Oh, my love is a teaser, He’s a teaser, he’s a teaser, Oh, my love is a teaser, And he loves only me.
Chorus He attends to the fires, To the fires, to the fires, All the girls he admires, But he loves only me.
Nellie [dancing with a batchman] My love is a batchman, He’s a batchman, he’s a batchman, Oh, my love is a batchman, And he loves only me.
Chorus He melts glowing masses, Glowing masses, glowing masses, No flirtation he passes, But he loves only me.
[General dance.]
Chorus Oh, my love is a blower, He’s a blower, he’s a blower, Oh, my love is a blower, And he loves only me.
[Dialogue omitted.]
Sextet—Annabelle, Geraldine, Rose, Jack, Duke, and Stumpy
Jack Let’s go through the world with a smile on our face, though we sorrow— Duke Something like this? Rose & Stumpy Something like this! All Come, cheer up!
Jack Though we are convinced that each one will be sadder tomorrow— Duke A smile and a kiss, Rose & Stumpy A smile and a kiss, All They’ll cheer up!
Black is the night and dreary the day; ’Twill always be dark and dreary. Rough is the road and weary the way; ‘Twill always be rough and weary. Then hail to the maid who laughs alway; Then hail to the maid who’s ever gay; Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up, cheer up! Cheer up, cheer up, etc.
Ann. For the sailor’s happy on the seas, The robin is happy among the trees, The bull-pup’s happy catching fleas, So let us cheer up to-day!
All For the sailor’s happy, etc.
Jack Let’s laugh and be merry and bear a light heart, though it’s aching— Duke Something like this? Rose & Stumpy Something like this! All Come, cheer up!
Jack For no one will guess if we grin that our hearts are near breaking— Duke A smile and a kiss, Rose & Stumpy A smile and a kiss, All They’ll cheer up!
Deep is the pain and dreadful our state; There’s nothing we know will mend them. Sad are our lives and sadder our fate; There’s nothing to do but end them. Then hail to the maid who laughs alway; Then hail to the maid who’s ever gay; Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up, cheer up!
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Jack
The epicure who loves to dine And revels in old china May think his Japanese is fine, His Limoges plates much finer. Chorus May think his Japanese is fine, etc.
Jack His Worcester ware may be most rare, His Dresden quaint and thinner, But what of such? They cannot touch The pail that holds the dinner. Chorus But what of such, etc.
Jack Then tell the drummers rattle away, And all the band fortissimo play; From morn to night we’ll shout “All hail “To the winsome, tinsome dinner pail!” Chorus Then tell the drummers, etc.
Jack I have no wish for soup or fish, For terrapin or pheasant; A hard-boil’d egg or turkey leg To me is far more pleasant. Chorus A hard-boil’d egg, etc.
Jack I love sardines and pork and beans, Likewise a cold potato. But oh, my, my, the pumpkin pie! There’s really nothing greater. Chorus But oh, my, my, etc.
Jack Then tell the drummers rattle away, And all the band fortissimo play; From morn to night we’ll shout “All hail “To the winsome, tinsome dinner pail!” Chorus Then tell the drummers, etc.
[Dialogue omitted.]
Valse—Annabelle
There’s a legend of old, By the Saracens told, Of a royal maid who had loved in vain A princely swain. So this maiden fair Steeped in doubt and despair, Sought the mystic aid of the airy Fairy Elfins of Cupid’s land. Ah—! Ah—! Ah—!
When the Elfins had heard To the very last word All the maiden’s woe—how her heart was torn, Her life forlorn— Cried they: “Do not be sad; “ ’Tis the time to be glad; “For we fairies know how to lead hearts, “Speed hearts, “Unto the hearts they love.”
For in our fairy bower We wake with magic power A wondrous lute of crystal made Whose golden tones true lovers aid. When hearts responsive hear it They hasten to be near it, And with caresses Love confesses Love to Love. Ah—! Ah—! Ah—!
So the legend of old, By the Saracens told, Said the melody by the fairies played Proved to prince and maid That their hearts beat as one; And no souls ’neath the sun Could more happy be. For true love, New love, Ever and aye shall be. Yes, ever shall be. True love, new love, ever shall be. Ah, true love!
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Geraldine, Duke, and Chorus
Ger. The maid of old England is haughty And greets you with a “no, no, never!” Mam’zelle from Paree thinks she’s naughty, But usually she’s deucèd clever. The Fräulein from Berlin is clinging, The blonde of the Swede coldly grand; But the ne plus ultra of the girls I know, The three-ring circus and the all-day show, Is the neat bit of, sweet bit of, calico That rules this mighty land— This mighty land— That rules this land. Chorus This mighty, mighty, mighty land.
Ger. She’s a honey girl When the summer sun shines all day; She’s a sunny girl When the budding buds bud in May. Bewitching in her beauty rare, With wondrous eyes and lovely hair, And form and grace beyond compare, She holds undaunted sway. For, gracious goodness, bless my soul, There’s nothing like the girlies of the U. S. A.!
Chorus She’s a honey girl, etc.
Duke Mavourneen the imp loves to tease you, And Highland Jenny says “I winna.” Paquita would die just to please you; A Holland maiden cooks your dinner. The geisha she languidly fans you; The gipsy princess reads your hand; But the “mile-a-minute” of the girls I’ve seen, The satin-finished and the uncrown’d queen, Is the shy little, sly little girl, I ween, Who rules this mighty land— This mighty land— That rules this land. Chorus This mighty, mighty, mighty land.
Duke She’s a honey girl, etc.
Chorus She’s a honey girl, etc.
[Dialogue omitted.]
Finale—Act II
Ann. Oh, tell me, pray, what fault of mine? Mr. P. To argue on this I decline. Jack A reason you must give, some dereliction show; And failing that, the Union says I can refuse to go.
Girls [pleading] Annabelle is our sister, Please remember, please remember! Annabelle is our sister, And we’ll stick right by her.
Men Jack Bartlett’s our brother, He’s our brother, bully brother; And there ain’t such another, So we’ll stick right by him.
Ger. Oh, papa, sweet papa, Don’t discharge ’em, don’t discharge ’em, Oh, papa, sweet papa, They are dear friends of mine.
Mr. P. No, no, no, no, no, no! They must leave us; They are nuisances, yes, nuisances. Their absence won’t grieve us, So out they must go.
Chorus If that’s your view, Why, we’ll go too!
I know not why I am to be discharged today; In what have I been derelict, pray, say? I never rules or regulations disobey, So why am I dismiss’d, So why am I dismiss’d?
Together we will bravely stand As labor’s ever loyal band. Come what may, their help I can command.
She knows not why she is to be discharged today; And she has not been derelict, they say; She’ll never rules or regulations disobey, So why is she dismiss’d, So why is she dismiss’d?
Bravely they will stand, Labor’s loyal band. Come what may, they’ll loudly say They’re theirs to command.
Together we will stand, Labor’s loyal band, And come what may, our strength Is theirs to command.
Together we will stand, Labor’s loyal band, And come what may, our strength Is theirs to command.
Mr. P. Ha! Insubordination! Wait, at once this scene I’ll terminate. The last time, now, I ask you to depart!
Chorus No, no, we’re with him, soul and heart! We’re brothers, and we’re all alike. Unless they stay we’ll go on strike!
Mr. P. Unless they go you cannot stay— You’re all discharged! Clear out! Away!
[Chorus gather around Mr. Pompton in an angry and threatening manner, while he is trying to telephone.]
Mr. P. [at telephone] Hurry up there. Riot police.
Jack Defend your rights, boys. Women to the rear. A barricade.
Chorus A barricade!
All From Maine to Oregon, from ocean unto ocean, Ready all, steady all, Hear the nation’s call to arms. Oh, North and South and West, with patriot’s devotion, Heeding come, speeding come, From your cities, from your farms.
Hark, hark, hear the tramping Of Uncle Sammy’s martial band; And soon they’ll be camping In Cuba’s sanguinary land. Then victory will crown them, For no martial foe can down them Or their bravery withstand.
With foes round them pressing, Whatever the conflict’s tide, No fear e’er confessing, They’ll battle side by side. The booming of cannon and rattling of drum and fife— With trumpet sounding And hearts rebounding— That is life!
Hark! ready all, ready all, ready all— Hark! steady all, steady all, steady all— Hark, the Gatling gun! Hark, the Gatling gun! Brr——
With foes round them pressing, etc.
[Dream Picture: “The Bivouack.”]
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Jack
The day-star shines upon the hill; The valleys in the shadows sleep; In wood and thicket, dark and still, My comrades lie in slumber deep. Far in the east a phantom gray Steals slowly up the night’s black pall, And herald of the coming day The distant bugle’s soft notes call:
“I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up in the morning; “I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up at all.”
A thought of motion at the sound, As though the forest caught its breath; And belted sleepers on the ground Move restlessly, like life in death. And slumb’ring echoes here and there Awaken as the challenge floats, And louder on the morning air Bring out the cheery bugle’s notes:
“I can’t get ’em up in the morning; I can’t get ’em up in the morning; “I can’t get ’em up in the morning; I can’t get ’em up at all.”
And, as the thrilling strains prolong, Flames into rose and gold the day; And springing up with shout and song, Each soldier welcomes march or fray.
“I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up”— Ring out the cheery bugle call. “I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up”— Ring out the cheery bugle call.
Through wooded value, o’er wind-swept hill, Where campfires gleam and shadows fall, And louder, clearer, cheerily still, Ring out the merry bugle call:
“I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up in the morning; “I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up, I can’t get ’em up at all.”
[Dialogue omitted.]
Duet—Rose and Stumpy
Stumpy You’re the girl for my money; I like your style, And your sweet smile Makes my heart feel so funny, Just ’cause you said Someday we’ll wed; We won’t keep a horse but then maybe, Some day, if my dreams should come true, A carriage we’ll keep for the baby, And Sundays I’ll drive it for you. [Hums]
There’s girls by the score, But for me, I adore Just you, dear; and you’re worth all the others. I haven’t the cash, So we can’t cut a dash, But I love you, so nothing else bothers. In some little flat We’ll make a start With ev’rything new and fine; There we will be happy And never be scrappy When you change your name to mine.
Both There’s girls by the score, etc.
Rose I shall learn to do cooking; I’ll bake some pies As a surprise; And for you I’ll be looking By the front door Each day at four. I’ll never be jealous or scold you; Your wages I’ll keep for you, dear; With bank-books in my name I’ll hold you, Should love for me cool as I fear. [Hums]
There’s girls by the score, But just me you adore; I’m yours, dear, and I’m worth all the others. You haven’t the cash, So we can’t cut a dash, But you love me, so nothing else bothers. In some little flat We’ll make our start With ev’rything new and fine; There we will be happy And never be scrappy When I change my name to thine.
Both There’s girls by the score, etc.
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Geraldine, Jack, and Duke
Ger. I’m just ashore from dear New York Where at the present time the talk Is centered on a new idea That brings the ends of earth quite near. It seems a man from Italee Has found that over land or sea A message can be sent—don’t laugh— Upon a wireless telegraph. Marconi, Marconi, that’s his name.
Hark! hear the click-click-clicking, Hark! hear the tick-tick-ticking, Calling to Greenland’s shore off far Siam. If lovey-dovey’s on the sea And you are out in Kankakee You click-click a kiss in a Marconigram.
Jack When wife and hubby disagree, How easy now divorce will be! In place of trips out West, the pair Can flash their troubles through the air. Ger. “Dear Judge, just think of such abuse: “No motor car for my own use.” Jack “Dear Judge, the car I bought for two “I think I ought to ride, don’t you?” Don’t you? don’t you? do not you?
Hark! hear the click-click-clicking, Hark! hear the tick-tick-ticking, Hark! comes the message—now, my friends, be clam. “Divorce for lady at the bar “With custody of motor car”— Thus reads this particular Marconigram.
Duke For pugilistic championships Decided only with the lips, There’s nothing like the hot air route To settle such a fierce dispute. Jack “Consider that I slapped your wrist “And gave your nose an awful twist.” Duke “Regard your face as scratch’d, so there. “Assume that I have pulled your hair.” Regard your face as scratch’d—so there!
Hark! hear the click-click-clicking, Hark! hear the tick-tick-ticking, Hark! all their bluster is an awful sham. They’ll never scrap for name or fame, But for the money in the game— Thus reads this particular Marconigram.
[Dialogue omitted.]
Song—Annabelle and Working Girls
Ann. The heroes of war since the days of the flood Have been subjects for song and for story; The cannon’s loud roar and the shedding of blood Ever adds something more to their glory. The mission sublime ’mid the carnage and strife Is saving the soldiers who fall; And the Red Cross nurse, risking life for life, Is the bravest and best of all.
Red Cross! Red Cross! guarding the dead and dying; Under your shield On battle field The wounded are peacefully lying. Red Cross! Red Cross! soothing the pain and weeping; O’er soldier brought low, Be he friend or foe, Your vigil you ever are keeping.
Chorus Red Cross! Red Cross! etc.
Ann. When rifle and spear and the pistol and lance Are no more to be call’d into action; When all is good cheer and the song and the dance Take the place of the quarreling faction; When right will prevail in the souls of mankind And sorrow give way unto mirth, The flag of the Red Cross will then be enshrined In the hearts of all nations on earth.
Red Cross! Red Cross! etc.
Chorus Red Cross! Red Cross! etc.
[Dialogue omitted.]
[Melodrama: Battle Scene and Return of the Troops]
Chorus
All With foes round them pressing, Whatever the conflict’s tide, No fear e’er confessing, They’ll battle side by side. The booming of cannon and rattling of drum and fife— With trumpet sounding And hearts rebounding— That is life!
[Dialogue omitted.]
Finale
All With foes round us pressing, Whatever the conflict’s tide, No fears e’er confessing, We’ll battle side by side. The booming of cannon and rattling of drum and fife— With trumpet sounding And hearts rebounding— That is life!