The Phantom Head by W. S. Gilbert

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The Phantom Head

Fun, VIII - 19th December 1868

Illustration by Gilbert

There never was a face
	So suited, in its way,
A clergyman to grace,
	As MR. PARKS', M.A.

There never was a face
	(Excepting MR. PARKS')
More suited to its place,
	Than MR. PARKS's clerk's.

There never was a face
	So medically fine,
So free from metal base,
	As that of DR. BRINE.

In fact, if actors could
	Contrive to "look a part"
As perfectly, they would
	Have mastered half their art.

These worthy people three,
	They were the special pride
Of Twipton-on-the-Sea
	And all that countryside.

And strangers who might be
	In Twipton, too, would say,
"We never noticed three
	So comme il faut as they."

But, ah, and well-a-day!
	I fear it wasn't meant,
That with our features' play
	We should be quite content!

The clergyman would say,
	"My face is far too mild,
Suggestive in its way
	Of quite a little child."

The doctor wished for eyes
	That, eagle-like, would pierce;
The little clerk, likewise,
	He wished to look more fierce.

(We must not be severe:
	We have our failings, all;
For none are perfect here
	On this terrestrial ball.)

One night when nearly dark
	(The wind was blowing hard),
It so befell, the clerk
	Passed through the cold churchyard.

And, lo! while treading there
	The causeway of the dead,
He saw in middle-air
	A Solitary Head.

"Now this," he mused, "is strange,
	And though I may be dense,
It's quite beyond the range
	Of my experience.

"I've noticed heads before,
	Young, pretty, old, and plain;
But all, I'm nearly sure,
	Had bodies in their train."

Illustration by Gilbert

"Clerk," said that Phantom Head,
	"Do you admire my smile?"
The clerk politely said,
	"It is my favourite style.

"Your eyes, with lightning pronged,
	Quite pierce me through and through
For many years I've longed
	To have a head like you!"

"To-morrow evening, halt,"
	The awful Spectre said,
"At yonder handsome vault,
	And you shall have my head.

"For I, and brother two
	(You would not know our names),
Were all beheaded through
	The wicked SECOND JAMES.

"We're weary of our beds;
	Those merciless old hunks
Preserved our little heads
	But burnt our little trunks.

"('Trunks,' you'll observe, stand for
	Our bodies — now no more —
Not our portmanteaux, nor
	The breeches that we wore.)

"So,sure as eggs are eggs,
	We never shall stir out
Until we get some legs
	On which to move about.

Go, tell your worthy friends
	That if they'll lend us theirs,
'Twill serve their private ends
	And help us from our lairs."

The doctor and the priest
	Rejoiced to hear that day
That they, good men, at least
	Might have their wilful way.

Illustration by Gilbert

Now mark the sorry plight
	Their envy brought them to:
They sought the vault that night —
	The Head had told them true!

But though the faces there
	Looked handsome in the light,
In point of fact they were
	Unsuited to them, quite.

One handsome head each friend
	Assumed — and bore it thence;
But, ah, the fearful end!
	But, ah, the consequence!

For none would take a pew
	In MR. PARKS'S church!
The Doctor's patients, too,
	Have left him in the lurch!

The humble little clerk
	Has no companions, when
He rises grim and stark
	To give his loud "Amen!"

Illustration by Gilbert

MORAL

You'll learn this moral fit,
	That beauty, to the state
Of him who pays for it,
	Should be appropriate.

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