Please keep in mind that this was written in the "language" of the period of publication
This programme mentions quite a few of the people living in Blockley in 1881.
Prologue
COMPOSED AND SPOKEN BY
MR. G. CLIFFORD
Entertainment by the Blockley Cricket Club
Easter Monday, April 18, 1881
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Well met, well met, my friends,
On this auspicious eve,
With those who'll strain their energies,
Both one and all, to please,
And as members of the B.C.C.,
Intend as in past years,
Not to chirp as Crickets do,
But sing like Cricketers
Now First, I will to you explain
What brings us here to-night
The lack of funds you see it is
Which makes our purse so tight.
So now with your united help,
The Club yet hopes to thrive;
And play another season through,
To show we're still alive.
For kindred spirits seldom fail,
To raise those who are low!
The truth of these remarks I'm sure,
This audience can show.
For friends with soul of harmony
Join hands with you to-night;
And members of the B.C.C.
Are transported with delight.
Do not suppose from what we've said,
That vanquished we have been
In ev'ry game which has been played!
For that's not what we mean.
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For matches five last year were play'd
So don't make any fuss,
Our victors only claimed the two
While three were one by us,
And tho' we had to battle hard
We're not down in the dumps,
For if opponents kept their legs,
We, too, were on their stumps.
Nor are we very much in debt,
[Much less when we go hence]
For all the secretary lacks,
Is only just ninepence.
We must not tarry longer now,
To tell of Cricketing!
But just run through the programme
And tell what friends will sing.
So if you'll to its pages turn,
And mark the name of songs,
I'll do my best, and shortly will
Say which to each belongs.
And should the Programme alted be,
As probably it may,
And so confuse the Prologue,
Believe me when I say-
I've strictly kept to every name,
So pray don't me condemn,
But find out whose the failure is,
And put it down to them. |
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Given by Mr. Drury of Moreton
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Programme
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First, a staunch and tried old Cricketer,
Of the same a veteran true,
Will, in singing first a Cricket song
In costume, prove to you.
That what I've said can't be denied,
I'll challenge one and all,
For this song will show, his choice game is
"The Cricket bat and ball."
"Darby and Joan" in touching terms,
Their strong affection tell,
In a song put down for Mrs. Young,
Who'll no doubt sing it well,
Let's hope, as thus she sings, that age
Love's bow has not unstrung;
Though young in years, she may in name,
Remain not always Young.
"Where's my dollie gone to?"
Will be asked by Mrs. Gray,
In a song he'll sing, and doubtless ask,
In a very comic way.
That love for dollie should exist,
In youth, is but fair play,
But passing strange it should exist
In one who's really Gray.
Our old friend Mr Keen then will sing
Of a lady who married quite wrong,
And only because she could not
A gentleman make of her John.
Her arguments could not be good,
Nor could they be true to the letter,
For in taking John into her heart,
She took him for worse and for better.
Mr. Balhatchet next will sing
About his "Mother-in-law,"
Who was to him a perfect bore,
Like a sheepshead too, all jaw.
But let us try to calm his fear,
And heal his heart's cheif sores,
By reminding him that now's proclaimed,
At length, peace with the Boers.
A member of a neighbouring team,
with a kindred spirit comes,
And like a true born British son,
Will sing an English song.
In which is taught a lesson true,
So don't his creed run down,
But take the advice he'll give, and pray
Don't run old England down.
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Mr. C. P. Ellis next will sing,
How "Niggardly Niggers" are.
Contrasting too most happily,
With the friends assembled here.
For the Cashier who is at the door,
In very knowing winks,
Looks oft this way, as if to say,
Hark how the money jinks.
"You'll remember me" is a song
To be a song by Frank Treadwell,
And that he may remembered be,
Will surely sing it well.
And Treadwell too, in music's track,
As belonging to the rank,
Of those who ettiquette cast of,
And sings both free and frank,
An invitation is given to
Come o'er this moonlit sea,
Right gladly we will it accept,
And the reason why you see,
Is because the grand and blue old sea,
This night lose every frown,
As it's grandeur old is song by Young,
Its blue waters by B. Rown.
A song called "Modern Times," we find,
Stands on the programme next,
And allotted to Mr. Westmacott,
Who perhaps will you perplex.
With air balloons and diving bells,
With telegraphs and steam,
All of which our forefathers,
In the past did never dream.
Mr. Charles Mayo next will play,
A solo on the flute;
"Blue Bells," with variations too,
Which every taste must suit.
May you, may I, when Mayo plays,
Enjoy the treat afforded,
And may the applause which he deserves,
Right duly be awarded.
Mr. G. Figgures will tell you to
"Turn off the Gas at the Meter;"
When you hear this, you will hear that
He's an inconsistent creature.
When Mr. G. T. Herbert has
To add to our delight;
Strove hard and well succeeded, in
Producing such a light,
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To show what decorative art
And taste indeed can come forth,
To gratify our every wish,
From the hand of Mr. Bamforth.
And the Mottoes, how well they look
By the light we're favoured with,
And credit to reflect upon
Our worthy cashier, Smith.
Next comes an Instrumental part,
To give the singers rest,
Then show your taste for music rare,
By granting our request,
To be attentive while the strains
Of music help to fill up
The players won't detain you long,
For they'll go off with a "gallop."
Our friend Mr. Phipps, with musical lips,
And my statement you cannot refute,
When I say he will play, in a curious way,
On his "Wery Identical Flute.
You may say, call it a play? and I still will
[maintain,
That his tune with his funny grimaces,
Will play on your spirits, and laughter
[provoke,
And be seen on the most sober faces.
Mr. Keen in his turn sings again,
And a song of more serious tone,
May a lesson be learnt by us all,
When he sings of Man's last narrow
home.
For his song is by name The Old Sexton
Each then should be deeply impressed,
As he thinks of the spade and the Mattock,
And the grave where he shortly will rest
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Miss Trenfield then will sing a song,
And doubtless, too, will please
The audience now assembled here.
And sitting quite at ease.
Expectant tho' they may appear,
They not impatient seem,
To hear the lady talk of sleep,
But sing them "Jessie's Dream."
Jack's yarn we are promised will be spun,
And song by Harry Clifford,
We rather think the programme here,
Must from the truth have differed.
For it indeed seems very strange,
And from the truth must vary,
For can the yarn belong to Jack,
When it is spun by Harry.
"Of Millie's Faith" and trusting love,
You'll hear from Mrs. Young,
Who, in parting with her love Mark,
Appears quite overcome.
Just then, as "Millie's" will true love,
od flame lose not a spark,
Till it assumes that melting power,
Which wins at length its mark.
Mr. Phipps in character, will,
The "Country Gawby" sing,
And with originality,
A witchery round us fling.
To make us laugh in thorough style,
At his quaint country ways,
And so you'll find, if you attend
To everything he says.
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