Continuing the musical saga; of ‘Opus One’ only the first act still exists. Somewhere down the years Act Two got lost; not that it matters. Despite it being a load of old rubbish I was surprised on rereading it to find I quite enjoyed my very first attempt at lyric writing and even then seemed to be fond of “laundry list” numbers. There is one in Garibaldi all about an ice cream parlour listing the various flavours available and there is a kinda one in ‘Peter Pan’ – ‘Soggy Green Cake’. There is also one in ‘Pickwick, ‘Whatever You Want I Can Get it’ sung by Roker the jailor.
WHATEVERYOU WANT I’VE GOT IT,
WHATEVER I’VE NOT I CAN GET.
SO WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST YOU TROT IT OUT,
THERE’S NOTHING’S BAMBOOZLED ME YET.

WHATEVER IS IN YOUR POCKET,
WILL PAY FOR MY SERVICE WITH EASE,
FOR WHATEVER YOU WANT I WILL KNOCK IT OFF,
MY ONLY DESIRE IS TO PLEASE.

A BOTTLE OF BURGUNDY, SHERRY, OR SACK,
A PHEASANT OR TWO AS A SNACK.
THE LASS YOU DESIRE, A MALE VOICE CHOIR,
WHATEVER IT IS THAT YOU LACK.

A SHERATON TABLE, A FOUR POSTER BED,
SOME PILLOWS TO REST YOUR OLD HEAD.
A SURGEON TO BLEED YOU, A MASSEUR TO KNEAD YOU,
A PARSON SHOULD YOU WANT TO WED.

THERE’S NOTHING IN THIS WHOLE WIDE WORLD
THAT MONEY CANNOT BUY,
SO IF YOU’VE THE MEANS TO GET THE BEANS
THE GRAVY WILL FOLLOW BYE AND BYE.

CHORUS: WHATEVER YOU WANT HE’S GOT IT.
ROKER: WHATEVER I’VE NOT I CAN GET.
CHORUS: SO WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST YOU TROT IT OUT,
TOGETHER: THERE’S NOTHING’S BAMBOOZLED HIM/ME YET.

ROKER: MY SERVICE IS NOT FOR GRATIS,
A NICE LITTLE WICKET I’M ON,
FOR I’M REALLY A NAT’RUL BORN ARTIST
AND THEY SAY LIFE IS SHORT BUT I’M LONG.

A STATUE OF VENUS, A REMBRANDT OR TWO,
TO LIGHT UP THE GLOOM OF YOUR VIEW.
A SILVER GILT BANGLE THAT WILL NOT JANGLE
THE WAY RUSTY CHAINS TEND TO DO.
A BUKHARA CARPET, A LOUIS COMMODE,
SOME WEDGWOOD, SOME DRESDEN, SOME SPODE,
’A VOLUME BY DICKENS, MAYBE SOME CHICKENS,
I KNOW WHERE THERE’S OPIUM STOWED.

and more...

The one in ‘Opus One’ is all about small-ads. But there’s nothing new, here’s an example of
a laundry list number from the Music Hall, 1881

HERE WAS PLUMS AND PRUNES AND CHERRIES
AND CITRONS AND RAISINS AND CINNAMON TOO,
THERE WAS NUTMEGS, CLOVES AND BERRIES,
AND THE CRUST IT WAS LAID ON WITH GLUE.
THERE WAS CARAWAY SEEDS IN ABUNDANCE-
TWOULD BUILD UP A FINE STOMACH ACHE –
YOU WOULD KILL A MAN TWICE AFTER EATING A SLICE
OF MISS HOOLIGAN’S CHRISTMAS CAKE.

And here’s an example of what I referred to earlier as being a crappy Music Hall lyric –

Slap-Bang! Here we are again!
Here we are again! Here we are again!
Slap-Bang! Here we are again!
Such jolly dogs are we!

Guess it kept the boys in the upper circle happy as they could all join in slap-banging, and anyway right up to date, someone sent me a CD of a musical which has been a big hit on the continent, and one of the lyrics goes. ‘What are you going to do now? What are you going to do now? What are you going to do now? What are you going to do now? What are you going to do now?’ ‘What are you going to do now?’ ad infinitem. Great stuff, huh?