Absurd Ditties

III.
THAT OF OUR OLD FRIEND BISHOP P.

(With many thanks to Mr. W. S. Gilbert for his kind assurances

that the inclusion of these verses causes him no offence.)

Twice Mr. Gilbert sang to you
Of Bishop P., of Rum-ti-foo;
Now, by your leave, I'll do that too,
Altho' I'm bound to fail
(So you will tell me to my face)
In catching e'en the slightest trace
Of true Gilbertian charm, or grace,
To decorate my tale.

Still, I will tell, as best I can,
How Bishop Peter—worthy man—
Is getting on by now.
Now where shall I begin? Let's see?
You know, I think, that Bishop P.
(Wishful to please his flock was he)
Once took the bridegroom's vow.

You doubtless recollect, His Grace

Wed Piccadil'lee of that place,

And Peterkins were born apace,

When she became his bride.

In fact I'm told that there were three,

When dusky Piccadillillee,

In odour of sanctittittee,

Incontinently died.

Some years have passed since her demise

But Bishop Peter—bless his eyes—

That saintly prelate, kind, and wise,

Is excellently well.

And, not so very long ago,

He sought to wed—this gallant beau

(His faithful flock desired it so)—

Another Island belle.

There was one difficulty, this:
Our Peter wooed a dusky Miss
Who (tho' inclined to married bliss)
Declared him rather old;
Who giggled at his bald, bald head,
And even went so far, 'tis said,
As to decline His Grace to wed,
Did Lollipoppee bold.

But, one day, on that far-off reef,
A merchant vessel came to grief,
And all the cargo—to be brief—
Was washed upon the shore.
Most of the crew, I grieve to state,
Except the Bos'un and the Mate,
Were lost. Theirs was a woesome fate,
And one we all deplore.

Amongst the wreckage on the strand,

A box of "Tatcho" came to land,

Which, there half buried in the sand,

The Bishop—singing hymns

Amongst his flock down by the shore—

Discovered, and they open tore

The case. Behold! The contents bore

The magic name of Sims.

"What! G. R. Sims?" quoth Bishop P.
(Visions of "Billy's Rose" had he),
"Good gracious now! It Sims to me
I've heard that name before."
(Oh, well bred flock! there was not one
Who did not laugh at this poor pun;
They revelled in their Bishop's fun.
They even cried "Encore!")

Then spake the Mate (whose name was Ted):
"Now this 'ere stuff, so I've 'eard said,
Will make the 'air grow on yer 'ead
As thick as any mat."
"Indeed?" quoth worthy Bishop P.;
"Then 'tis the very thing for me,
For I am bald, as you may see."
His Grace removed his hat.

The Bo'sun quickly broke the neck

Of one large bottle from the wreck,

Proceeding then His Grace to deck

With towels (careful man,

This was to save his coat of black,

For "Tatcho" running down one's back

Is clearly off its proper tack).

And then the fun began.

For Ted he rubbed the liquid through,

As hard as ever he could do.

And worthy Jack rubbed some in too

(The Bo'sun's name was Jack).

And day by day they did the same.

Now "Tatcho" ne'er belies its fame,

And soon a little hair there came

(His Lordship's hair is black).

Miss Lollipoppee views with glee
The change in worthy Bishop P.
Now quite agreed to wed is she
(The banns were called to-day).
No "just cause or impediment"
Can interfere with their content;
The natives' loyal sentiment
Is summed up in "Hooray!"

About This Book

III. THAT OF OUR OLD FRIEND BISHOP P.

III.
THAT OF OUR OLD FRIEND BISHOP P.