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No. 18 - Song - Jim and Chorus - "I'm a Lord."
| Jim: | Behold in me a belted Earl, My noble Lords and Graces, Tho' I declare no belt I wear Because I'm used to braces. I've got a handle to my name Just like a barrel-organ; And none shall shine these boots of mine Excepting Pierpont Morgan. I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I've a palace in Park Lane, And sev'ral country houses. I'm a blooming Peer, |
| Chorus: | Look at that aristocrat! |
| Jim: | It ain't the coat that makes the man, Why dam-me! It's the trouse's! I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I've a palace in Park Lane, And sev'ral country houses. I'm a blooming Peer, |
| Chorus: | Look at that aristocrat! |
| Jim: | It ain't the coat that makes the man, Why dam-me! It's the trouse's! |
| Jim: | A racing stable I shall own, And very soon I'll give yer A three year old worth untold gold, The envy of Bob Sievier, You'll see me down at Newmarket, At Kempton Park and Lincoln, For tho' it's true my blood ain't blue, It's bluer than the Pink-'un. I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I don't want no selling plates, I'm full of artful cunning, I'm a sporting nob. |
| Chorus: | He's a nob on the job! |
| Jim: | I've a mare that's going to win the Derby Three years running. I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I don't want no selling plates, I'm full of artful cunning, I'm a sporting nob. |
| Chorus: | He's a nob on the job! |
| Jim: | I've a mare that's going to win the Derby Three years running. |
| Jim: | I'm going to be an M. F. H. with hunting box and kennels, Without a doubt I'll soon cut out Your "Pytchleys" and your "Meynells". And when the field is shouting "Yoicks" I'll shout a trifle louder. Some Keating's I am going to buy To use as jumping powder. I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I will show the pack of bow-wows I ain't no beginner. A-hunting we will go! |
| Chorus: | Tally ho! gone away, |
| Jim: | And when I've shot the blooming fox We'll have it cooked for dinner! I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I will show the pack of bow-wows I ain't no beginner. A-hunting we will go! |
| Chorus: | Tally ho! gone away, |
| Jim: | And when I've shot the blooming fox We'll have it cooked for dinner. |
| Jim: | I may not be Lord Tennyson, Lord Byron or Lord Lytton, At any rate I'm up to date, A pantomime I've written. I'm going to tour a company Whose efforts are deserving, There's Beerbohm Tree, Lord Anglesey, And Little Tich and Irving. I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I shall play the title-role, it is my bounden duty. I'm a genius, |
| Chorus: | All of us make a fuss, |
| Jim: | The others can play what they like, But I'm the Sleeping Beauty! I'm a Lord, what ho! |
| Chorus: | He's a Lord, don't cher know; |
| Jim: | I shall play the title-role, it is my bounden duty. I'm a genius, |
| Chorus: | All of us make a fuss, |
| Jim: | The others can play what they like, But I'm the Sleeping Beauty. |
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Page modified 24 November 2016