Controversial Entertainment

On Saturdays I often goes
An' spends a evenin' in the pit
At one of them vari'ty shows,
An' makes a 'appy night of it;
But since this fiscal row begun,
I've 'ad to look elsewheres for fun.

I'm partial to a music-'all,
But when last week I chanced to go,
I 'eard some low-necked blighter bawl
A Jingo song in praise o' Joe;
'No more will England,' sez this crank,
'Trade with the German an' the Yank!'

At furrin countries, o'er the sea,
A lot o' silly jeers 'e 'urled;
Thinks I, where would ole England be
Without the market o' the world?
We'd make a living, I suppose,
A washin' of each other's clo's!

Nex' come the cinematograph,
An' Joe, I needn't say, was there;
A picture of 'is upper 'alf,
A-settin' smilin' in a chair.
(There's no photographer in town
Would dare to 'take _'im_ lying down! ')

Then a play-actress come along,
A saucy bunnet on 'er 'ead;
She didn't sing no fiscal song,
She spoke a fiscal pome instead.
'These is,' she 'astened to explain,
'The words o' Joseph Chamberlain!'

I 'eard that Yankee lady's rhyme,
An' then I took my coat an' 'at;
I've read some drivel in my time,
But nothink quite so bad as that.
(She was a Himport, I suppose,
Dumped down by foes o' poor ole Joe's! )

I took the kids to Drury Lane,
An' 'eard a lion comic sing
A song as told us once again
To keep 'Protecting' hev'rything.
Thinks I, 'ullo! but if that's so,
Can't we protect ourselves from Joe?

I ain't bad-tempered, 'Eaven knows;
A peaceful life is wot I'd choose;
If people likes this scheme o' Joe's,
They're more than welcome to their views;
They loves dear food, I've not a doubt,
An' any'ow that's their look-out.

But when I seeks the gall'ry door
At one of them there public shows,
I doesn't pay a bob or more
To 'ear about this plan o' Joe's;
I simply wants to get away
From controversies of the day.

We 'as enough o' argument
At 'ome, on 'bus-top, tube, or train;
An' most on us 'll be content
If 'entertainments' entertain;
But Joe's as bad as the perlice,
'E won't give no one any peace.

An' seems to me, as plain as day,
It's actors' business to amuse;
If they can't no'ow keep away
From giving us their fiscal views,
Why should the public be denied
A chance to 'ear the other side?

I 'opes it won't be very long
Afore George Robey lets us 'ear
A really fust-class fiscal song
Wrote by the Dook o' Devonsheer;
While on the biograph we sees
Them comic cuts o' F. C. G. 's.

If Ruddy Kipling would but write
A Free Trade ballad, or a glee,
Which Arthur Roberts could recite,
Or Dunville sing with Mr. Tree,
I'd pay my money at the door,
Nor wouldn't ask for nothin' more.

But while the music-'alls descend
To nothing but Protection 'turns,'
There's other better ways to spend
The little money that I earns.
I only asks to see fair-play,
An', failin' that, I'll stop away.

End of title