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No. 7 - Finale Act I
| All: | Tho' we brag about our horses, Or our speedy automobile, Praise our trotter's great resources, And our chain or chainless low wheel, We discover, tho' we're bumptious, careless or particular, That there is nothing quite so scrumptious As a Pullman Palace car. Ah! 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. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! On, iron horse, we praise you, Let's hope steep inclines won't daze you, The speed, no doubt, does amaze you, You're smashing all the records that were never smashed before. Ah! On, iron horse, we praise you, On, iron horse, we praise you. |
| Genie: | Weigh anchor! A hump-back 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 snipp'd That peacock's tail with a cross-cut saw; And then he stuck the feathers on his own extremitee. But somehow he couldn't manage to fly up above the sea. Oh, blow, ye winds, and likewise pipe your eye, For the hump-back whale who tried to fly, His tail arose, but he couldn't lift his nose, And he never knew the reason why. |
| Chorus: | Oh, blow, ye winds,
and likewise pipe your eye, For the hump-back whale who tried to fly, His tail arose, but he couldn't lift his nose, And he never knew the reason why. |
| 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 inwards to that marked 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 feather'd tail is bobbing up above the ocean's spray." Oh, blow, ye winds, and likewise pipe your eye, For the hump-back whale who tried to fly, His tail arose, but he couldn't lift his nose, And he never knew the reason why. |
| Chorus: | Oh, blow, ye winds, and likewise pipe your eye, For the hump-back whale who tried to fly, His tail arose, but he couldn't lift his nose, And he never knew the reason why. Oh, blow, ye winds, and likewise pipe your eye, For the hump-back whale who tried to fly, His tail arose, but he couldn't lift his nose, And he never knew the reason why. |
| 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
tho' the boat bobs 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. |
| Chorus: | Mmm, mmm, mmm! |
| 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. |
| Chorus: | Howling, howling, The bleak western breezes are howling, Darkly, darkly, the black sky above us is scowling, Somehow, somehow an unrestrained feeling for growling iIs stealing upon us, Oh, would we were home again, again, again. |
| Genie: | Land ahead! |
| Chorus: | Land ahead! |
| Genie: | But two leagues sou', sou'west. Tonight with Prince Aladdin we will rest, Great Master, Very soon we'll be within the land of fairies, Be dignified and drop all small vagaries, I've telephoned today, And told the Queen of Dreams to say That we are on our way To visit Aladdin's court. |
| Chorus: | Oh, wondrous slave of the lamp, |
| Genie: | Thanks for the praise you thus convey. |
| Chorus: | Tho' 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; Tho' father was a myth, Dear mother was a Smith, And I am a high-toned Genie. |
| Chorus: | Yet he dotes on respectability, For rank and name he has a keen eye; His father was a myth, His mother was a Smith, And he is a high-toned Genie. 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. |
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American Musical Theatre | Chris and the Wonderful Lamp
Page modified 6 November 2016