| Madeira M'Dear |
| | |
| Flanders: | I would like to sing for you now a little Edwardian (or Edwaudian) song. Give me a chance to wear my present, my little Edwardian hat (or haut). |
| | Last year I was given a decanter for my birthday - beautiful thing, cut-glass, came from Portobello Rd - in which I keep Madeira, the wine of which I am extremely fond. Not to excess, of course. |
| | That decanter and this hat gave us the idea for this little Edwardian song. |
| | |
| Flanders: | She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice, |
| | She was fair, she was sweet seventeen. |
| | He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice, |
| | He was base, he was bad, he was mean. |
| | |
| | He had slyly inveigled her up to his flat, |
| | To view his collection of stamps. |
| | And he said as he hastened to put out the cat, |
| | The wine, his cigar and the lamps: |
| | |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear, |
| | You really have nothing to fear. |
| | I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right, |
| | You shouldn't drink spirits at this time of night." |
| | |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear, |
| | It's a-very much nicer than beer. |
| | I don't care for sherry, one cannot drink stout, |
| | And port is a wine I can well do without, |
| | It's simply a case of 'chacun à son goût', |
| | Have some Madeira, m'dear!" |
| | |
| | Unaware of the wiles of the snake in the grass, |
| | Of the fate of the maiden who topes. |
| | She lowered her standards by raising her glass, |
| | Her courage, her eyes, and his hopes. |
| | |
| | She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did, |
| | He quietly refilled it again. |
| | And he said as he secretly carved one more notch, |
| | On the butt of his gold-handled cane: |
| | |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear, |
| | I've got a small cask of it here. |
| | And once it's been opened, you know it won't keep, |
| | Do finish it up, it will help you to sleep." |
| | |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear, |
| | It's a-really an excellent year. |
| | Now, if it were gin, you'd be wrong to say 'yes', |
| | The evil gin does would be hard to assess, |
| | (Besides, it's inclined to affect me prowess), |
| | Have some Madeira, m'dear!" |
| | |
| | Then there flashed through her mind what her mother had said, |
| | With her antepenultimate breath: |
| | "Oh my child, should you look on the wine that is red, |
| | Be prepared for a fate worse than death!" |
| | |
| | She let go her glass with a shrill little cry, |
| Swann: | (Ow) |
| Flanders: | Crash! Tinkle! It fell to the floor. |
| | When he asked, "What in heaven?", she made no reply, |
| | Up her mind, and a dash for the door. |
| | |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear...", |
| | Rang out down the street, loud and clear. |
| | A tremulous cry that was filled with despair, |
| | As she paused to take breath in the cool midnight air. |
| | |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear...", |
| | The words seemed to ring in her ear. |
| | |
| | Until the next morning, she woke up in bed, |
| | With a smile on her lips, and an ache in her head... |
| | |
| | And a beard in her earhole that tickled and said: |
| | "Have some Madeira, m'dear! Ha ha ha..." |