lirik lagu stanley holloway - babette's love
babette she was a fisher gal
with jupon striped and cap in crimps
she passed her days inside the halle
or catching little nimble shrimps
yet she was sweet as flowers in may
with no professional bouquet
jacot was, of the customs bold
an officer, at gay boulogne
he loved babette–his love he told
and sighed, “oh, soyez vous my own!”
but “non!” said she, “jacot, my pet
vous etes trop scraggy pour babette
“of one alone i nightly dream
an able mariner is he
and gaily serves the gen’ral steam~
boat navigation companee
i’ll marry him, if he but will–
his name, i rathеr think, is bill
“i see him when he’s not aware
upon our hospitablе coast
reclining with an easy air
upon the port against a post
a~thinking of, i’ll dare to say
his native chelsea far away!”
“oh, mon!” exclaimed the customs bold
“mes yeux!” he said (which means “my eye”)
“oh, chere!” he also cried, i’m told
“par jove,” he added, with a sigh
“oh, mon! oh, chere! mes yeux! par jove!
je n’aime pas cet enticing cove!”
the panther’s captain stood hard by
he was a man of morals strict
if e’er a sailor winked his eye
straightway he had that sailor l!cked
mast~headed all (such was his code)
who dashed or jiggered, blessed or blowed
he wept to think a tar of his
should lean so gracefully on posts
he sighed and sobbed to think of this
on foreign, french, and friendly coasts
“it’s human natur’, p’raps–if so
oh, isn’t human natur’ low!”
he called his bill, who pulled his curl
he said, “my bill, i understand
you’ve captivated some young gurl
on this here french and foreign land
her tender heart your beauties jog–
they do, you know they do, you dog
“you have a graceful way, i learn
of leaning airily on posts
by which you’ve been and caused to burn
a tender flame on these here coasts
a fisher gurl, i much regret,–
her age, sixteen–her name, babette
“you’ll marry her, you gentle tar–
your union i myself will bless
and when you matrimonied are
i will appoint her stewardess.”
but william hitched himself and sighed
and cleared his throat, and thus replied:
“not so: unless you’re fond of strife
you’d better mind your own affairs
i have an able~bodied wife
awaiting me at wapping stairs;
if all this here to her i tell
she’ll larrup you and me as well
“skin~deep, and valued at a pin
is beauty such as venus owns–
her beauty is beneath her skin
and lies in layers on her bones
the other sailors of the crew
they always calls her ‘whopping sue!’”
“oho!” the captain said, “i see!
and is she then so very strong?”
“she’d take your honour’s scruff,” said he
“and pitch you over to bolong!”
“i pardon you,” the captain said
“the fair babette you needn’t wed.”
perhaps the customs had his will
and coaxed the scornful girl to wed
perhaps the captain and his bill
and william’s little wife are dead;
or p’raps they’re all alive and well:
i cannot, cannot, cannot tell
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