Characters.
| Jack Parker ("was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole employ."—Vide) | Miss Jane Taylor. |
| Miss Lydia Banks ("though very young, Will never do what's rude or wrong."—Ditto.) |
Farmer Banks
Farmer Banks's Bull | } | By the Brothers Griffiths. |
| Chorus of Farm Hands. |
Scene.—A Farmyard. r. a stall from which the head of the Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter Farmer Banks with a cudgel.
Farmer B. (moodily). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
I vent my irritation on the Bull.
[We have Miss Taylor's own authority for this rhyme.
Come hup, you beast!
[Opens stall and flourishes cudgel—the Bull comes forward with an air of deliberate defiance.
Oh, turning narsty, is he?
Another time will do! I see you're busy!
[The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit Farmer Banks, l., as Lydia Banks enters r. accompanied by Chorus. The Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the door.
Song—Lydia Banks (in Polka time).
I'm the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
Unnaturally good for one so young—
A pattern for the people that I go among,
With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
And I often feel afraid that I shan't live long,
For I never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
Chorus (to which the Bull beats time).
As a general rule, one doesn't live long,
If you never do a thing that's rude or wrong!
Second Verse.
My words are all with wisdom fraught,
To make polite replies I've sought;
And learned by independent thought,
That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
So wonderfully well have I been taught,
That I turn my toes as children ought!
Chorus (to which the Bull dances).
This moral lesson she's been taught—
She turns her toes as children ought!
Lydia (sweetly). Yes, I'm the Farmer's daughter—Lydia Banks;
No person ever caught me playing pranks!
I'm loved by all the live-stock on the farm,
[Ironical applause from the Bull.
Pigeons I've plucked will perch upon my arm,
And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.
For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
No sheep e'er snaps if I attempt to touch her,
Lambs like it when I lead them to the butcher!
Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
And, as befits a dairy-farmer's daughter,
What milk I get I supplement with water,
[A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside; Lydia starts.
Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
That bullet head! those ears! it is——Jack Parker!
[Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as Jack enters with a reckless swagger.
Song—Jack Parker.
I'm loafing about, and I very much doubt
If my excellent Ma is aware that I'm out;
My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
And I'm not what you'd call an agreeable boy!
I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
Tin cans to curs I tie;
Ring furious knells at front-door bells—
Then round the corner fly!
'Neath donkeys' tails I fasten furze,
Or timid horsemen scare;
If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
My little Sister's hair!
[The Bull shakes his head reprovingly.
Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
But they do not denote an agreeable boy!
[As Jack Parker concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below the half-door, while Lydia conceals herself behind the pump, l.c.
Jack (wandering about stage discontentedly). I thought at least there'd be some beasts to badger here!
Call this a farm—there ain't a blooming spadger here!
[Approaches stall—Bull raises head suddenly.
A bull! This is a lark I've long awaited!
He's in a stable, so he should be baited.
[The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de mots; Lydia comes forward indignantly.
Lydia. I can't stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
Excitement's sure to make his beef taste tougher!
[The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement.
Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
Invariably come from teasing bulls!
So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
For if the bull gets out—why, then you'll catch it.
Jack. A fractured skull? Yah, don't believe a word of it!
[Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches ominously; Jack retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump: the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes a sudden rush at Lydia.
Lydia (as she evades it). Here, help!—it's chasing me!—it's too absurd of it!
Go away, Bull—with me you have no quarrel!
[The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of duty.
Lydia (impatiently). You stupid thing, you're ruining the moral!
[The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit.
Jack (from top of pump). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although the Bull I'll back!
Lydia. Come quick—this Bull's mistaking me for Jack!
Jack. He knows his business best, I shouldn't wonder.
Farm-hands (philosophically). He ain't the sort of Bull to make a blunder. [They look on.
Lydia (panting.) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!
[The Bull comes behind her.
Oh, Bull, it is unkind of you ... you've tossed me!
[Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness to give the coup de grace; Lydia calls for help.
A Farm-hand (encouragingly). Nay, Miss, he seems moor sensible nor surly—
He knows as how good children perish early!
[The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs.
Lydia. Bull, I'll turn naughty, if you'll but be lenient!
Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
I promise you henceforth I'll try, at any rate,
To act like children who are unregenerate!
[The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a compromise.
Jack. And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
Just give a chyhike to your friend—Jack Parker!
[They shake hands warmly.
Finale.
Lydia. I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
(Though I didn't mean to go just yet);
But you get no chance for pathos when you're chivied by a bull!
(So I thought I wouldn't go just yet.)
For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
That I thought I wouldn't go just yet!
Chorus.
We hear, with some regret,
That she doesn't mean to go just yet.
But a Bull with horns that hurt you
Is a poor return for virtue,
So she's wiser not to go just yet!
[The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to Lydia and Jack, who dance wildly round and round as the Curtain falls.
[N.B.—Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of the L. C. C.]
