Art Songs
Some People One Ought to Know
- arrangements of some of the poems by Christopher Isherwood, for voice and piano.
Isherwood wrote these poems in 1925 in England, whilst working as secretary at the home of violinist Andre Mangeot; at the behest of Mangeot's young son, Sylvain, to accompany his series of animal sketches.
Badger
The only fault I find with badgers
Is that they're such appalling cadgers.
If you ask one out to dine
He'll want a dozen of your wine
To take home. If he likes your prints
He'll bother you with clumsy hints:
"I say, who's that picture by?...
It's my birthday next July..."
Once, one asked me for my car -
This was going rather far -
So I said, "Wouldn't you rather
Take this ring? It belonged to my father;
It's set with diamonds." Calm and bland,
He thanked me and held out his hand.
I had an apoplectic fit:
The Badger walked away with it.
play Badger Badger score
Snake
This is an ordinary kind of snake.
You may find one if you shake
Almost any pillow or mat,
Or the gardener's dirty old straw hat,
Or a fur rug that you've kept a cat on.
He looks so floppy because he's been sat on;
But beware - a nip from the creature's molars
Will give you an ache like four steam-rollers.
However, if a person handles
Him kindly and feeds him on chopped candles,
He will be gentle as a dove
And show an almost filial love.
play Snake Snake score
Giraffe
Ill-mannered boys perhaps may laugh
At the curious spots on this giraffe.
"What are they for?" you ask. Well, I
Will tell you; each is a bull's-eye
And has afforded constant practice
To many marksmen. For the fact is
During the War, this creature was mascot
To a regiment quartered at Ascot,
And every morning they would shoot
All over it, from head to foot;
Such was the toughness of its skin
That not one bullet entered in.
Now that you've heard this, you'll at least
Not laugh at the patriotic beast.
play Giraffe Giraffe score
Butterfly
The Patchwork Admiral Butterfly
Likes to find some warm and dry
Parlour or drawing-room, and there
Settle. It hates the open air.
It does not waste its youthful powers
Fluttering over pretty flowers.
It would far prefer to rove
Round a gas-fire or a stove.
This may be why, as I am told,
Some live to be seventy-five years old.
play Butterfly Butterfly score
Whale
He's trying desperately, this whale,
To put his head beneath his tail.
He's frightened because someone's told
Him that his stomach's turning gold -
And as you know, with whales and weasels,
When one turns gold, he's got the measles.
As a matter of fact, our friend has not.
He's only slipped on a treacle-pot
Dropped from the deck of a submarine
By the cabin-boy, who was feeling green.
play Whale Whale score
Ferrets
Why do ferrets fish in tubs
With brand-new rods and worms and grubs?
Really, there's something of the mystic
About them, they're so optimistic.
From twelve inches of clear water
They expect to find they've caught a
Fish, at least, if not a trout.
And if they got a salmon out,
Their ignorance of Nature's such,
It would not surprise them much.
play Ferrets Ferrets score
Snail
The snail has a telephone and bell
Fitted up inside his shell.
He says the thing's a perfect pest:
"When I come out to digest
For forty seconds in the sun,
The bell rings, and in I run.
But usually, it's just a call,
For St. Thomas' Hospital,
Or, 'Is that Harrods?', 'Is that Alice?'
'Is that George at Buckingham Palace?'
I never have a wink of slumber -
Somebody always gets my number."
play Snail Snail score
Squirrel
This squirrel, although so young and small,
Doesn't live in a tree at all.
One day he left the woods for the town
And now he's climbing up and down
The telegraph-pole outside our house.
He hears us grumble, her hears us grouse,
He hears us gnash and rage and curse,
He hears us quarrel; and, what's worse,
He sometimes jumps on the sill and pokes
His head inside and hears our jokes.
Oh, if that squirrel ever returns
To his native forests, my cheek burns
To think of the tales he'll spread about -
It'll make his parents' fur drop out.
play Squirrel Squirrel score
Elephant
Don't argue with an elephant.
It's no use, for you simply can't
Convince any of these stupid creatures;
Just look at the brute's stolid features -
Not a gleam of common sense.
In fact, the elephant's so dense
That if you tell him white is white,
And go on saying so all night,
And prove it with a piece of string
And three rulers, if you bring
Learned books on Maths and Stinks -
Still he only sits and blinks
And murmurs, "Oh yes, yes...I've seen
Your arguments; but white is green.
play Elephant Elephant score
Doe
Here is Titus, our pet doe,
The biggest hypocrite I know.
When visitors come to the house,
He's quiet and gentle as a mouse.
They say, "Oh, the pretty lamb,
Would he like some break and jam?"
And the artful creature stands
And lets them feed him from their hands.
Maiden ladies stroke his ears
And murmur, practically in tears,
"Look at his great wistful eyes...."
They would get a slight surprise
If they saw him bite the cook.
As for those great eyes - well, look
A little closer, and you'll see
That one of them is black. That's me.
I hit him with a rolling pin
To stop him hacking at my shin.
Yesterday he killed a cat,
And ate the mutton, lean and fat,
And smashed the china in the sink.
Why we keep him, I can't think -
Except that it's sometimes amusing
To hear the visitors enthusing.
play Doe Doe score
Crocodile
Here Mr. Z-, a crocodile,
Boards the boat-train for Carlisle.
Living is cheap there, that's the reason
So many are visiting it this season.
The careless shopmen leave large chops
Hanging outside the butchers' shops,
And if you're clever, you can lunch,
Without paying, off a bunch
Of liver sausages, or maybe
A stupid nursemaid's left a baby
Unprotected in its pram -
(Babies are very nice with ham) -
Hence the sleek and jolly smile
On the face of this crocodile.
play Crocodile Crocodile score
Weasel King
When I am old and feeble grown
And children ask me who I've known
Among the novelists and peers
And great men of my early years,
I shall reply, with haughty look,
"I've never met an earl or duke
Nor a marquis, but I'll sing
About my friend the Weasel King."
His Majesty was small but vicious -
He thought a rabbit's ear delicious
To eat for breakfast, and could bite
Through leather or through vulcanite.
If he ever saw a stoat
He jumped and caught it by the throat.
He led his people into battle
And cut the badgers down like cattle.
Blood was his favourite drink, then cider,
He was no temperance-pledge abider.
His scream was louder than ten geese,
When angry;
But in times of peace,
He passed a life of ease and culture
With his favourite pet, a vulture.
He didn't live - quite the contrary -
In a palace like George and Mary.
He scorned vast throne-rooms, and instead
Spent nearly all the day in bed.
Just after tea-time he'd begin
To practice on his violin -
He had composed a fine lament
On one note, on this instrument -
And when the music soothed his soul,
He'd take his pipe and fill the bowl
And light it up, and call for lamps,
Chatting of heraldry and stamps.
And once, after a solemn feast,
He rose and pinned upon my breast
A cross awarded for great merit -
The Order of the Woollen Ferret.
So that is why I always sing,
"God bless our gracious Weasel King."
play Weasel King Weasel King score
Hare
A ballet-dancer was Miss Hare -
Her attitudes made people stare,
Until she caught her face a crack
Doing a high kick round in back
While impersonating Cupid.
Since then, she's been a trifle stupid.
Out there in the street you may
See her almost any day,
Wandering with hands tightly clasped
In front of her. I've often gasped
To watch the vague and dreamy way
She steps before a cart or dray,
In spite of the drivers' objurgations
And the things they say about her relations.
play Hare Hare score
Parrot
"I don't know how I'd stand the strain,"
Said a parrot we met once in the train,
"Of being cooped up day after day
And shouting, 'Pretty Poll!'; 'Hip hooray!';
'Chawley!' and 'Damn you' and 'Mind your eye!'
Hanging in that conservatory,
While silly people drink their tea
And make idiotic remarks to me -
If it wasn't that I sometimes get
Out to the country with a net.
Then I'm happy. No doubt you've guessed
I'm an ardent lepidopterist.
At home, I should think that I have quite
Four thousand examples of Cabbage White.
I can collect no other kind,
For unfortunately, I'm colour-blind."
play Parrot Parrot score
Camel
"I confess," said the camel, "I sometimes wish
My hump wasn't shaped like a pudding-dish.
We might have been fitted with something pretty -
Like the Turkish mosque at the old white city;
Or why not a statue or a flower,
Or a helmet and crest or a tree, or a tower
Carved with scenes from some classical story, all
In marble and gold, like the Albert Memorial?"
"Well, well," I said mildly, "there's no deciding -
But a tree'd be rather a nuisance when riding."
play Camel Camel score
Cormorant
The common cormorant (or shag)
Lays eggs inside a paper bag.
You follow the idea, no doubt?
It's to keep the lightning out.
But what these unobservant birds
Have never thought of, is that herds
Of wandering bears might come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.
Vocalist: Julien Mueller
JulienMueller/myspace
play Cormorant Cormorant score
Others
The Banker's Daughter
She told a friend of mine last spring
She found me very int'resting,
Meaning she deigned to feel inclined
To keep me in her beautiful mind
Maybe a minute, maybe a day,
Until the interest wore away
Its principal to normal blank:
But I preferred a safer bank.
Poet: Ronald McCuaig
Vocalist: Julien Mueller
JulienMueller/myspace
play The Banker's Daughter The Banker's Daughter score
Bleak Mid-Winter
In the bleak mid-winter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter, long ago.
Our God Heav'n cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain.
Heav'n and earth shall flee away, when he comes to reign.
In the bleak mid-winter, a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Angels and arch-angels may have gathered there.
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air.
But only his mother in her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.
What can I bring Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
If I were a wise man, I would do my part
Yet what I can I give him, give my heart.
Poet: Christina Rossetti
play Bleak Mid-Winter Bleak Mid-Winter score
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