Pemberley poems

Fanny's Lament

Here I sit in Portsmouth Town
With rising gorge and spirits down.
Woe is me. O woe woe woe
It's to Mansfield I would go.

Both the servant girls are rude.
My father's always getting stewed.
I simply don't know what I'd do
Without my loving Sister Sue.

Father and that Scholey man
Are roaring out for "Fancy Fan"
If to hush them I will come,
They'll choke me on a tot of rum.

Here's Henry Crawford full of pride
Insists on walking at my side.
If it weren't for Sister Sue
Who knows what that man would do.

I do not trust that Mr. C.
Seducer's what I think he'd be.
If he decides that I won't do,
He may try for pretty Sue.

O, if only I could ride
With Sister Susan at my side
Down the road to Mansfield Park
And be in my dear room by dark.

Even there at Mansfield Park
Aunt B will doze and Pug will bark
While Edmund mopes for Mary C
And Auntie Norris picks on me.

Sir Thomas, male of wealth and power
Will dominate us all and glower.
My father drinks and roars with vim.
At least I'm not afraid of him.

But however sad I'd feel
At least I'd get a decent meal.
If one carpet turned a wreck
Aunty N might break her neck.


Is it so wrong for Fanny Price
To want to be where all is nice?
I don't think I've committed sin.
O, who would be a heroine?

Mr. Price's Song
Chorus (after each verse)
Beat to quarters on the drum
Lieutenant Price the old sea dog.
Sing Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
Sing Yo ho ho and pass the grog.

Unfit for active duty I,
But fit for jolly company.
Tobacco, rum, and kidney pie,
And roaring song--that's me.

Why did lovely Frances Ward
Take to heart a coarse Marine
For rugged bed and scanty board
And howling young 'uns unforeseen?

Growling, guzzling old Marine,
With mug and pipe at hand,
Gross perhaps, not over clean,
Stuck fast limping here on land.

Miss Austen thought me less than good--
Should have died in some old war,
Called me rough and coarse and crude,
Said I drank and said I swore.

Yes I drink, and yes, I swear;
Yes the Austen girl was right;
No I never comb my hair;
No I'm no young girl's delight.

Old Sir Tom should call me friend.
Unlikely that, the bloody fool.
I gave his Edmund happy end--
Me, a most unlikely tool.

For I sired a Portsmouth gang,
Handsome Will and pretty Sue,
Roaring Sam--that boy'll hang,
And Neddy Bertram's Fanny too.

And without Lieutenant Price
Where would Fanny Bertram be?\
Mansfiel Price would be less nice
If indeed I'd died at sea.

Old Tom Stiffneck, hoist your wine.
Down it like a sailorman.
Toast the sea dog soaked in brine,
Father of the lovely Fan.





Mr. Darcy's Derrydown

Chorus: Hey down, ho down, Darcy derry down down,
Hey down, ho down, Darcy derry down.

I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy, the Lord of the Manor,
Chock full of money and justified pride.
I go forth abroad under Pemberley's banner
To seek a young lady for Pemberley's bride.

Cho. (after every verse)

She must have family and beauty and grace,
Nature as sweet as the Pemberley honey,
Figure as fine as her beautiful face,
Not much else--I have the money.

I am of course handsome and wealthy as well.
Whereever I go young ladies all try
To entice and entrap me as Bingley can tell,
And appear lovely to my critical eye.

There's my cousin, the frail Lady Anne,
With Lady Catherine to force her on me.
They may forget it; there's no way they can.
I need more than that for my dear Pemberley.

There's Caroline Bingley, a lady of guile,
Admires my writing and looks in my book,
Slinks through the room; it's no worth her while.
I didn't give Caroline more than one look.

Then came Elizabeth; the search I can quit,
Most wonderful woman I ever did see,
Figure and face and most wonderful wit.
Here's the bride for my dear Pemberley.

Because of her underbred pert family
I tried to resist and forget her, but no;
I must have Elizabeth; she must have me.
To propose a wedding to Hunsford I go.

I was sure of my suit for who could resist
My money, estates, and my very good looks?
There's a grave mistake, on that I insist.
She rejected me, Darcy, Forsooth and Gadzooks!

It's Wickham, Wickham, the expletive dog.
Oh, what a terrible matter I find.
Wickham has wrapped us both up in a fog.
Wickham, Wickham, he's poisoned her mind.

If ever I find out that George Wickham tries
To bring my Lizzie to his infamous end,
I'll polish my pistols and see that he dies;
I'll send Bingley for second and friend.

Perhaps there's a chance that he'll be the winner,
And wouldn't that send the world in a tizzy,
The grand Mr. Darcy winged by that sinner.
I'd rather die than live without Lizzy.

But no need to fight; I've found a way
To care for the Bennets and Wickham remove.
I'll buy him his bride and hope that some day
Elizabeth knows and will give me her love.

O happy day, I found courage to ask,
And Elizabeth Bennet accepted my hand.
So comes Mr. Darcy to the end of his task.
No happier man can be found in the land.

Elizabeth's family--best watch what I say.
To Jane at least I can be a good brother.
Mary and Kitty, well, give them good day,
And I must be polite to Elizabeth's mother.

Elizabeth's mother, Good Lord and His Saints,
But here's a thing I thought never to see.
Frets and complains and says that she faints.
She's no a whit worse than my own Auntie C.

Now I am nearing the end of my song
As Lizzie and I wax happy with rents.
When I get too pompous it doesnt last long;
My darling Elizabeth laughs me to sense.

Final chorus: Hey down, ho down, Lizzie Darcy down down,
Hey down, ho down, Lizzie Darcy down.

Mrs. Collins reflects

Well now, here is Charlotte Collins,
Respectable wife of the Vicar of Hunsford.
Once Charlotte Lucas, plain
As an old shoe, never romantic,
Realist, determined somehow
To have my own home, to have
Children, poultry, a parish.
No Darcy nor Bingley for Charlotte,
So I settle for Mr. Collins, a clod.
But a comfortable clod, not
Demanding too much, so
Self-satisfied he thinks me fortunate.
So I am by my own feelings,
Have the children, the poultry,
The parish, good meals, good wine.
Figo for romance; I settle for comfort.
Posted by sharkubill at 8:20 AM