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No. 18 - Song - Genie and Chorus - "The No-Hat Brigade."
Lyrics by Geroge Grossmith, Junr.
| Genie: | If you ever go down to a popular town On the coast, when the summer is hot, You'll see folks overdress'd, And it must be confess'd You will also see some who are not. These wear open-work clothes, And you rightly suppose That the Hygienic throng you're among, For they never wear hats, And they'll tell you that that's The right way to keep lovely and young. They're the gay no-hat brigade On their afternoon parade, And they look rather queer When they walk on the pier Or the Eastern Esplanade. Their mammas are getting vexed, Their papas are quite perplex'd, For they only wear Jaeger, Or something still vaguer, Oh! what will they leave off next! |
| Chorus: | They're the gay no-hat brigade On their afternoon parade, They look rather queer When they walk on the pier Or the Eastern Esplanade. Their mammas are getting vexed, Their papas are quite perplex'd, For they only wear Jaeger, Or something still vaguer, Oh! what will they leave off next! |
| Genie: | There's a dear little maid Who has joined the brigade, She declares that her blouse is a dream, Tho' I can't, I'm afraid, Quite explain how it's made, You can usually see thro' the scheme; She will sternly refuse To wear stockings or shoes, And I trust I am not indiscreet If I bet six to four, In a year or two more That La Milo will take a back seat. They're the gay no-hat brigade On their afternoon parade, Oh! the sun's burnt her toes And the skin off the nose, Of the fair Hygienic maid. Her mamma is getting vexed, Her papa is quite perplex'd, With her peek-a-boo frocking And absence of stocking, Oh! what will she leave off next! |
| Chorus: | They're the gay no-hat brigade On their afternoon parade, Oh! the sun's burnt her toes And the skin off the nose, Of the fair Hygienic maid. Her mamma is getting vexed, Her papa is quite perplex'd, With her peek-a-boo frocking And absence of stocking, Oh! what will she leave off next! |
| Genie: | Oh! you won't want the cure Down at Carlsbad, I'm sure, If you dine with this gallant brigade. For they lunch on sultanas, Brown bread and bananas, Wash'd down with home-made lemonade; Tho' the bloods of the ilk Take a soda and milk, When sometimes they're inclin'd to be gay, And with satisfied smiles They declare Eustace Miles Feeds them nobly on fourpence a day. They're the gay no-hat brigade On their mid-day meal parade, And the queen of the bunch At the fourpenny lunch Is the fair Hygienic maid. Her mamma was really vexed, Her papa was most perplex'd When he heard that his daughter Left off drinking water, Oh! what will she leave off next! |
| Chorus: | They're the gay no-hat brigade On their mid-day meal parade, And the queen of the bunch At the fourpenny lunch Is the fair Hygienic maid. Her mamma was really vexed, Her papa was most perplex'd When he heard that his daughter Left off drinking water, Oh! what will she leave off next! |
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Page modified 2 February 2017