PASHA BAILEY BEN by W. S. Gilbert A Proud Pasha was Bailey Ben, His wives were three, his tails were ten; His form was dignified, but stout Men called him "Little Roundabout." His Importance Pale Pilgrims came from o'er the sea To wait on Pasha Bailey B., All bearing presents in a crowd, For B. was poor as well as proud. His Presents They brought him onions strung on ropes, And cold boiled beef, and telescopes, And balls of string, and shrimps, and guns, And chops, and tacks, and hats, and buns. More of them They brought him white kid gloves, and pails, And candlesticks, and potted quails, And capstan-bars and scales and weights, And ornaments for empty grates. Why I mention these My tale is not of these--oh no! I only mention them to show The divers gifts that divers men Brought o'er the sea to Bailey Ben. His Confidant A confidant had Bailey B., A gay Mongolian dog was he; I am not good at Turkish names And so I call him Simple James. His Confidant's Countenance A dreadful legend you might trace In Simple James's honest face. For there you read, in Nature's print, "A Scoundrel of the Deepest Tint." His Character A deed of blood, or fire, or flames, Was meat and drink to Simple James: To hide his guilt he did not plan, But owned himself a bad young man. The Author to his Reader And why on earth good Bailey Ben (The wisest, noblest, best of men) Made Simple James his right-hand man Is quite beyond my mental span. The same, continued But there--enough of gruesome deeds! My heart in thinking of them, bleeds; And so let Simple James take wing, 'Tis not of him I'm going to sing. The Pasha's Clerk Good Pasha Bailey kept a clerk (For Bailey only made his mark), His name was Matthew Wycombe Coo, A man of nearly forty-two. His Accomplishments No person that I ever knew Could "yodel" half as well as Coo, And Highlanders exclaimed, "Eh, weel!" When Coo began to dance a reel. His Kindness to the Pasha's Wives He used to dance and sing and play In such an unaffected way, He cheered the unexciting lives Of Pasha Bailey's lovely wives. The Author to his Reader The why should I encumber you With histories of Matthew Coo? Let MATTHEW COO at once take wing,-- 'Tis not of Coo I'm going to sing. The Author's Muse Let me recall my wandering Muse She shall be steady if I choose-- She roves, instead of helping me To tell the deeds of Bailey B. The Pasha's Visitor One morning knocked, at half-past eight, A tall Red Indian at his gate. In Turkey, as you're p'raps aware, Red Indians are extremely rare. The Visitor's Outfit Mocassins decked his graceful legs, His eyes were black, and round as eggs, And on his neck, instead of beads, Hung several Catawampous seeds. What the Visitor said "Ho, ho!" he said, "thou pale-faced one, Poor offspring of an Eastern sun, You've never seen the Red Man skip Upon the banks of Mississip! The Author's Moderation To say that Bailey oped his eyes Would feebly paint his great surprise-- To say it almost made him die Would be to paint it much too high. The Author to his Reader But why should I ransack my head To tell you all that Indian said, We'll let the Indian man take wing,-- 'Tis not of him I'm going to sing. The Reader to the Author Come, come, I say, that's quite enough Of this absurd disjointed stuff; Now let's get on to that affair About Lieutenant-Colonel Flare. LIEUTENANT COLONEL FLARE The earth has armies plenty, And semi-warlike bands, I dare say there are twenty In European lands; But, oh! in no direction You'd find one to compare In brotherly affection With that of Colonel Flare. His soldiers might be rated As military Pearls: As unsophisticated As pretty little girls! They never smoked or ratted, Or talked of Sues or Polls; The Sergeant-Major tatted, The others nursed their dolls. He spent his days in teaching These truly solemn facts; There's little use in preaching, Or circulating tracts. (The vainest plan invented For stifling other creeds, Unless it's supplemented With charitable deeds.) He taught his soldiers kindly To give at Hunger's call: "Oh, better far give blindly, Than never give at all! Though sympathy be kindled By Imposition's game, Oh, better far be swindled Than smother up its flame!" His means were far from ample For pleasure or for dress, Yet note this bright example Of single-heartedness: Though ranking as a Colonel, His pay was but a groat, While their reward diurnal Was--each a five-pound note. Moreover,--this evinces His kindness, you'll allow,-- He fed them all like princes, And lived himself on cow. He set them all regaling On curious wines, and dear, While he would sit pale-ale-ing, Or quaffing ginger-beer Then at his instigation (A pretty fancy this) Their daily pay and ration He'd take in change for his; They brought it to him weekly, And he without a groan, Would take it from them meekly And give them all his own! Though not exactly knighted As knights, of course, should be, Yet no one so delighted In harmless chivalry If peasant girl or ladye Beneath misfortunes sank, Whate'er distinctions made he, They were not those of rank. No maiden young and comely Who wanted good advice (However poor or homely) Need ask him for it twice. He'd wipe away the blindness That comes of teary dew; His sympathetic kindness No sort of limit knew. He always hated dealing With men who schemed or planned; A person harsh--unfeeling-- The Colonel could not stand. He hated cold, suspecting, Official men in blue, Who pass their lives detecting The crimes that others do. For men who'd shoot a sparrow, Or immolate a worm Beneath a farmer's harrow, He could not find a term. Humanely, ay, and knightly He dealt with such an one; He took and tied him tightly, And blew him from a gun. The earth has armies plenty, And semi-warlike bands, I'm certain there are twenty In European lands; But, oh! in no direction You'd find one to compare In brotherly affection With that of Colonel Flare.