Everybody’s Overdoing It
[Provoked by having heard, in a single week, “That Beautiful Tune,” ‘‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “That Swaying Harmony,” “Banjo Tunes,” “That Mesmerizing Mendelssohn Tune,” “Play Dat Barbershop Chord,” “Rum Tum Tiddle,” “Pick, Pick, Pick on the Mandolin,” “That Haunting Melody,” “That Coontown Quartette,” “I Love to Hear an Irish Band Play on St. Patrick’s Day,” “That Slippery Slide Trombone,” “The Ragtime Violin,” “That Mysterious Rag,” “Mello-Cello Melody,” “That Raggedy Rag,” “That Chicken Glide,” “That Dramatic Rag,” “That Italian Serenade” and ‘‘Brass Band Ephraim Jones.’’]
Whenever I go to a vo-da-vil show—
A thing that I frequently do—
The stunts that I see which are pleasing to me
Are painfully, fearfully few.
The acrobats eight are an act that I hate;
The monkeys and dogs I detest.
And the comedy kind that are known as refined
Are as dull as an almanac jest.
But of all the sad things that variety brings
The worst of the wearisome throng
Is the fury and craze of these “musical” days:
The song that entreats for a song.
And when some one begins to demand violins,
Or “That Sinewy So-and-So Strain,”
I want to get out, and, departing, to shout
The following earnest refrain:
A thing that I frequently do—
The stunts that I see which are pleasing to me
Are painfully, fearfully few.
The acrobats eight are an act that I hate;
The monkeys and dogs I detest.
And the comedy kind that are known as refined
Are as dull as an almanac jest.
But of all the sad things that variety brings
The worst of the wearisome throng
Is the fury and craze of these “musical” days:
The song that entreats for a song.
And when some one begins to demand violins,
Or “That Sinewy So-and-So Strain,”
I want to get out, and, departing, to shout
The following earnest refrain:
CHORUS
Cut out asking for that ragtime song
As played by that melodious coon!
Cease to bellow for that syncopated ’cello!
Quit teasing for that tremulous tune!
Stop that yearning for that raggedy rag!
Stop asking for that glidey guff!
Cut out this thing of begging folks to sing,
And cut out the “Please-Play” stuff!
As played by that melodious coon!
Cease to bellow for that syncopated ’cello!
Quit teasing for that tremulous tune!
Stop that yearning for that raggedy rag!
Stop asking for that glidey guff!
Cut out this thing of begging folks to sing,
And cut out the “Please-Play” stuff!
I’ve heard them demand a harmonica band;
I’ve heard people crave a cornet;
And even “Play some on that old kettledrum!”
Or “Fillip that flageolet!’’
I’ve heard singers long for that “Love’s Old Sweet Song,”
And yell for “That Old Time Quadrille”;
I’ve heard ’em insist on Puccini and Liszt,
And yearn for that Trovatore trill;
They ask for Bellini, Balfe, Wagner, Rossini,
The while, in unscrupulous zeal.
The people who “write” a new song in a night
Grow rich on the tunes that they steal.
And that’s why I moan in this querulous tone,
And that’s what is deep in my heart;
And if one should beseech me to offer a speech,
I’d do it, responding, in part:
I’ve heard people crave a cornet;
And even “Play some on that old kettledrum!”
Or “Fillip that flageolet!’’
I’ve heard singers long for that “Love’s Old Sweet Song,”
And yell for “That Old Time Quadrille”;
I’ve heard ’em insist on Puccini and Liszt,
And yearn for that Trovatore trill;
They ask for Bellini, Balfe, Wagner, Rossini,
The while, in unscrupulous zeal.
The people who “write” a new song in a night
Grow rich on the tunes that they steal.
And that’s why I moan in this querulous tone,
And that’s what is deep in my heart;
And if one should beseech me to offer a speech,
I’d do it, responding, in part:
CHORUS.
Cut out asking for that “Magic Flute,”
And that “Tannhauser” overture!
Cease to yell for that “William Tell,”
And “The Bride of Lammermoor!”
Stop that music-hunger all around,
Plenty is quite Enough.
Stop your praying for incessant playing,
And cut out the “Please-Sing” stuff!
And that “Tannhauser” overture!
Cease to yell for that “William Tell,”
And “The Bride of Lammermoor!”
Stop that music-hunger all around,
Plenty is quite Enough.
Stop your praying for incessant playing,
And cut out the “Please-Sing” stuff!