Page:Ruddigore.djvu/47

Chorus of Bridesmaids

⁠The sons of the tillage
⁠Who dwell in this village
Are people of lowly degree—degree.
⁠Though honest and active,
⁠They're most unattractive,
And awkward as awkward can be—can be.

⁠They're clumsy clodhoppers
⁠With axes and choppers,
⁠And shepherds and ploughmen
⁠And drovers and cowmen,
⁠And hedgers and reapers
⁠And carters and keepers,
But never a lover for me!

All.

They're clumsy clodhoppers, etc.

All.

⁠So welcome, gentry

⁠ For $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$		your our	$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$ entry
Sets $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$	our their	$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$ tender hearts a-beating, etc.

Enter Sir Despard Murgatroyd

Song and Chorus

Sir D.
Ch.
Sir D.
Ch.
Sir D.
Ch.
Sir D.

Ch.
Sir D.
Ch.
Sir D.
Ch.
Sir D.

Oh, why am I moody and sad?
⁠⁠⁠Can't guess!
And why am I guiltily mad?
⁠⁠⁠Confess!
Because I am thoroughly bad!
⁠⁠⁠Oh yes—
⁠You'll see it at once in my face.
Oh, why am I husky and hoarse?
⁠⁠⁠Ah, why?
It's the workings of conscience, of course.
⁠⁠⁠Fie, fie!
And huskiness stands for remorse,
⁠⁠⁠Oh my!
⁠At least it does so in my case!