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!