 |
| "Tommy One Leg" Tiller-Clowes Marionette Troupe Lincolnshire 1870-90 The Victoria & Albert Museum |
From the Tiller-Clowes troupe--one of the last Victorian marionette troupes in England—we see this marionette who is called “Tommy One Leg.” Tommy was made by the troupe in Lincolnshire between 1870 and 1890. He is a one-eyed, one-legged Russian sailor fiddler who was specially made for the popular comic music hall song “How Cruel Were My Parients” (sic). The song was sung by a puppet dressed as Tommy’s wife as she related the fate of her husband who lost his eye and leg when he was press-ganged into the navy, and how, later, he was reduced to busking in the streets with her.
The song went like this:
The song went like this:
HOW CRUEL WERE MY PARIENTS
Oh! cruel were my Parients [sic], as tore my Love from me,
And cruel was the press-gang who took him off to Sea,
And cruel was the little Boat, as row'd him from the Strand,
And cruel was the great big Ship as sail'd him from the Land.
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
Oh! cruel was the Water, as bore her Love from Mary,
And cruel was the fair wind, as would not blow contrary,
And cruel was the Captain, and the Botswain and the Men
As didn't care a fair-din' if we never met again.
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
Oh! cruel was the Splinter as broke my Dreary's Leg,
Now he's oblighed to fiddle for't, and I'm obliged to beg,
A vagabonding Vagrant, and a rantipoling Wife
We fiddle, limp and scrape it thro' the ups and downs of life.
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
Oh! cruel was th'engagement in which my true love fought,
And cruel was the Cannon-Ball, as knock'd his right Eye out,
He used to leer and ogle me, with peepers full of fun,
But now he looks a-skew at me, because he's only one.
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
My Love he plays the Fiddle, and wanders up and down,
And I sings at his Elbow, thro' all the Streets in Town,
We spends our days in harmony and wery [sic]seldom fights
Except when he's his Grog aboard, or I get queer at Nights
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
Oh! cruel are the Bobbies, as makes my Love move on,
That dear old faithful timber-toe he can hardly walk upon,
His voice to me sounds very sweet, although he's rather hoarse,
He's always got a shocking cold as it's always getting worse
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
Oh! cruel was the Bank as broke, in which was all our tin,
And cruel was the Manager as took my true Love in
We've not a blessed Shot now left, the Locker's up the spout,
So my true Love and me will sing, and fiddle our lives right out
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
Then Ladies take all the warning, by my true Love and me,
Tho' cruel fate should cross you remember constabncy,
Like me you'll be rewarded and have all your heart's delight
With fiddling in a Morning and a drop of Gin at Night
Singing too rol loo rol loo rol too rol loo rol loo.
No comments:
Post a Comment