Entries Tagged 'H.M.S. Pinafore' ↓

The Businessman’s Progress

Author: Matthew Feldwick

When I was a Lad I served a term,
As under manager for me old man’s firm,
I cleaned the fruit and I laid the law,
And I charged them all to use the door

(And he charged them all to use the door)

In charging for use it made me see,
How I could be a captain industry.

(In charging for use it made him see,
How he could be a captain industry!)

In gaining money I made such a splash,
That I soon took the trouble to guard the cash,
I added the takings and divided by three
And most of the mullah came back to me!

(And most of the mullah came back to he)

In making money come back to me,
I knew I could be a captain of industry!

(In making money come back to he,
he knew he could be a captain of industry!)

When Daddy’s business went down the pan,
I got myself a very clever plan.
I made a shinny plaque of brass
And vowed then never to move my arse.

(he vowed then never to move his arse.)

In not moving arse, money flocked to me,
‘Til now I am a captain of Industry!

(In not moving arse, money flocked to he,
‘Til now he is a captain of industry!)

In my studious office I played many games,
With income tax and capital gains,
I read the statutes of government men,
And sent bogus invoices to all of them!

(And sent bogus invoices to all of them!)

In sending these demands I noted with glee
That I could be called Captain of Industry!

(In sending these demands he noted with glee
That he could be called a Captain of Industry!)

At age thirty five, I retired to be
A worthless toff who liked the sea,
I had many a girl in every port
And spared the world but little thought.

(And spared the world but little thought)

The world got so few thoughts from me,
That now I am a captain of industry!

(The world got so few thoughts from he,
That now he is a captain of industry!)

Now poor men all, whatever you do
Whether pushing pens or shovelling poo.
If your morals are like, less than full,
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule!

(Be careful to be guided by this golden rule!)

It’s only YOU that matters, and then you’ll be
All very proud captains of industry!

(It’s only YOU that matters, and then you’ll be
All very proud captains of industry!)

When I was an undergrad

Author: Bryan Caplan

When I was an undergrad

When I was a lad

Author: My Son, The Greatest: The Best Of Allan ShermanAllan Sherman

When I was a lad I went to Yale
And I knew then that I would never fail
For I studied very hard and furthermore
I polished up the apple for the pro-fess-or
(He polished up the apple for the pro-fess-or)

I polished up the apple so frequently
That soon I had a phi beta kappa key
(He soon had a phi beta kappa key
from polishing the apple very frequently)

On graduation day I made a stop
At a very exclusive clothing shop
I opened up a charge account and asked them for
The best gray flannel in the clothing store
(The best gray flannel in the clothing store)

The suit was a part of a great intrigue
For it proved I was a member of the Ivy League
(It was part *beat* of *beat* a great intrigue
For it proved he was a member of the Ivy Leauge)

I wore my new suit and a sincere tie
And for my first job I did apply
A job in an advertising agency
Sharpening the pencils of a big VP
(Oh, he honed a lot of pencils for a big VP)

I sharpened all the pencils so pointedly
That soon I was a member of the agency
(He sharpened all the pencils so pointedly
That soon he was a member of the agency)

I kept my ears open and my big mouth shut
And I learned all the agency scuttlebutt
I learned who was going out with whom
And who had the keys to the powder room
(And who had the keys to the powder room)

The key to the powder room you see
Is the the key to the power of the agency
(The key *beat* to the powder room *beat*
Is the key to the power of the agency)

I worked real hard for the dear ol’ firm
I learned ‘most ev’ry advertising term
I said to the men in the dark gray suits
“Let’s run it up the flagpole and see who salutes”
(Let’s run it up the flagpole and see who salutes)

I ran it up the flagpole perfectly
So now I am a partner in the agency
(He ran it up the flagpole perfectly
So now he is a partner in the agency)

Now I have a big office at the end of the hall
With very fancy carpeting from wall to wall
I keep my mouth open and I keep my ears shut
And I have a little palace in Connecticut
(Yes he has a little palace in Connecticut)

So I thank old Yale…
And I thank the Lord….
And I also thank my father who was chairman of the board
(yes he’s grateful to his father
yes he’s grateful to his father
yes he’s grateful to his father who was chairman of the bo-ARD!)

A Mathematician’s progress

Attributed to “Hurwitz”

When I was a lad and went to school
arithmetic was taught by rote and rule;
I did long division and I learned cube root;
at the rule of three I was especially astute.

I was so astute at the rule of three
that now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(He was so astute at the rule of three
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)

In high school geometry I made my mark;
the teachers called me a regular shark.
I memorized theorems through and through;
originals I never was required to do.

I committed so much to memory
that now I am the holder of a Ph. D.
(HE committed so much to memory
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)

I chose college courses carefully:
the first digit had to be less than three.
By arranging for my courses to intersect,
I avoided putting pressure on my intellect.

I arranged so much redundancy
that now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(He arranged so much redundancy
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)

The faculty though that I was such a jerk,
I was obviously destined for graduate work.
They gave me a job to earn my pelf,
by teaching younger morons like myself.

I taught those morons with such esprit
that now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(He taught those morons with such esprit
that now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)

Oh they had a silly rule that a thesis was required,
so a found a kind professor whose assistance I desired;
he said, “Do this,” and he said, “Do that,”
and he had my thesis finished up in two months flat.

It was not a brilliant thesis, but it didn’t have to be
so now I am the holder of a Ph.D.
(it was not a brilliant thesis, but it didn’t have to be,
so now he is the holder of a Ph.D.)

All that remained was my defense;
the questioning was less than intense.
the profs all said I made a very bad show,
but I knew as much at present as I ever would know.

So in order to be rid of me,
they finally had to let me have a Ph.D.
(So in order to be rid of he,
they finally had to let him have a Ph.D.)

Now students all, both far and near,
if you are thinking of an academic career,
if you don’t want to teach in a secondary school,
be careful to be guided by this golden rule.

Don’t ever try to show originality,
and you all may be holders of a Ph.D.
(Don’t ever try to show originality,
and you all may be holders of a Ph.D.)

He’s a Unitarian

Author: Ruth S. Shur

He’s-a U-nitarian.
With a Unitarian intellect,
He was never one to genuflect,
He’s a Unitarian, He’s a Unitarian.

For he might have been a Quaker,
Cath’lic, Lutheran or Shaker,
Or Episcopalian, or Episcopalian.

But in spite of all temptation,
For a safe denomination,
He’s a Unitarian,
He’s a Uni-Uni-Uni-Uni-Uni-Unitarian.

But in spite of all temptation,
For a safe denomination,
He’s a Unitarian,
He’s a Uni-Uni-Uni-Uni-Uni-Unitarian.

tune: “He is an Englishman”

Three Stupid Marshmellows

Author: Dara Lind

We’re three stupid marshmallows
Three stupid marshmallows
We’re not especially bright
Giant but dumb we are
Come from a planet far
Never get anything right

We’re three stupid marshmallows
Three stupid marshmallows
We’ve got this planet in sight
We come to invade it
Its power? We’ll raid it
So Earth cannot put up a fight

Note: This is Dara’s first G&S parody. She is nine years old and at the time of writing was completing the fourth grade at Montgomery Elementary School. This was written for an Odyssey of the Mind competition.

He Calls Me His Coroner

(Author Unknown)

(Solo for Natalie Lambert of Forever Knight)

He calls me his coroner, sweet little coroner,
Though he will never say more;
He calls me his coroner, dear little coroner,
Sometimes it is really a bore!

I’m bright and I’m beautiful, cheerful and dutiful,
What more can I possibly be?
I’m dateless and clueless, but still I don’t rue less
The night that I hope he’ll take me!

I know he is shirking with all of this lurking
Around the night coroner’s joint;
He just keeps on flirting, but golly I’m hurting
When he never arrives at the point!

He tells me his reasons in all kinds of seasons,
That’s all that I’m good enough for;
I want some reaction and not just a fraction;
I’m sick and I’m tired of no score!