Psalm of Victory

(Bob rises unsteadily and sings with echo by chorus hereinafter referred to as echorus for short.)

Bob:

In cooling the [unclear: heels]
Of the Scrounger that squeals
I'm one of the leading exponents
I shout and I roar
And invective I pour,
And I pound into pulp my opponents.

Fchorus:

He shouts and he roars
And invective he pours,
And he pounds into pulp his opponents.

Bob:

I looked/for a sample
To make an example,
And soon enough shouted Eureka.
Like a bombshell that burst
I landed feet first
On that plague-bitten hole Motueka.

Echorus:

Like a bombshell that burst
He landed feet first
On that plague-bitten hole, Motueka.

Bob:

I look north and south
As I open my mouth,
And my critics are chilled to the marrow.
A tractor I mount
And they soon take the count
Like that martyred immortal wheelbarrow.

page break Echorus:

His tractor we'll mount
And they'll soon take the count
Like that martyred [unclear: immortal wheelbarrow,]

Bob:

Good hearted beneath,
But armed to the teeth
With a tongue that's unequelled for vigour
From soap box orations
I now harangue nations
And cut a remarkable figure.

Echorus:

From soap box orations
He now harangues nations,
And cuts a remarkable figure
A notable, quotable,
Quite anecdotable
Most oratorial figure.

Tim:

What news, Bob, of the prophet of Bullah?

Bob:

The prophet of Bullah has purchased a fine black stallion and races him today in the circuses of Pariah. Five hundred talents have I wagered this day that he shall triumph.

Delilah:

(A dancing girl) Who placed that golden bracelet on thine arm o Kish?

Kish(another ditto) :

My daddy.

Delilah:

Savest thy sugar Daddy?

Kish:

Nay.

Delilah:

Was it Tim Goliath?

Kish:

(pointing to anklet) Nay, Tim Goliath liketh more my ankle.

Delilah:

Who then?

Kish:

The prophet of Bullah!

(Bugles without - Enter a slave)

Slave:

(To Bob) My master - The Prophet of Bullah!

(Enter Bullah, dressed in robes and a jockey cap carrying a riding stock. Bob comes out of his cushions and rushes at him. They embrace each other on both cheeks.

Bob:

Bullah!

Bullah:

Bob!

Bob:

So thou returnest?

Bullah:

I would not have missed this feast, O Bob, for all the trophies in the circuses of the Pariah.

Bob:

But what of the black stallion and the five hundred talents I wagered?

Bullah:

Alas! O Bob, but Noash will provide.

Bob:

And what news from Bullah?

Bullah:

Ah, the herdsmen cry out in the hilltops and the swineherds answer in the valleys, rudely. The tribal chiefs send for their remits on tablets of stone and the stone is dust and the dust is page break blown back in the eyes of the tribesmen. There are murmurings, O Bob, in the vineyards and by the wayside and new prophets rise up. But enough of this - 'tis poor fare for a banquet. Greetings Tim Goliath.

Tim:

Welcome Horseface.

(Delilah approaches and shows her bare white arm unadorned)

Delilah:

Is it not fair, O Bullah?

Bullah:

(Brushing her aside) It will please me-later.

Jub:

Bring the wench to the table, Bullah - A slice of nightingale pie and an omelette of locusts have been served in your place.

Bullah:

But 'tis not the season for nightingales and locusts when kites and buzzards darken the skies, There is a young man in Rath, Enos by name, a dreamer.

Bob:

We have him observed.

Bullah:

He is hammering at the door.

Bob:

By all the Bulls of Bashan - this is too much. Shumbum have him clapped in sheckles and brought before us. ( Exit the Slave girl Shumbum)

Bring on the dancing girls.

Jub:

'Twas this day week at the Temple I saw a dance -there was such movement of the hips fore and aft Methinks they called it....

Pariah:

The Bumba??

Bob:

The same - I like it well. Music Slaves.

Pariah:

There is a song they sing in the temples of Gid-eon- "Good night Mrs Potiphar"

Jub:

I know it - tis sung sung in the timples and marketplaces.

(Sings)

Goodnight Mrs. Potiphar
Ha ha ha Ha ha ha
I think you went too far
When I took my leave
Did you pluck my sleeve??
Did you tweak my nose??
Did you take away my clothes??
Goodnight Mrs. Potiphar
You know what I think you are-
Ha ha ha Ha ha ha.

They join in a noisy chorus when - Enos, a fair young man dressed as Bob used to be. He is wearing huge chains and shakles and a loin cloth. He surveys the scene with disgust till they sudden y spy him.

Bob:

Who is this?

(Enos stands in lofty disdain)

Bullah:

The young man of whom I spake

Enos:

Enos of Rath is my name my Lord.

page break Tim:

(Aside) I've heard tell of him.

Pariah:

A famed calumniator and doth scandalise the temple.

Bob:

What is your occupation, Enos of Rath.

Enos:

The thing that I do is not the toil of common man.

Bullah:

He toils not neither does he spin.

Bob:

I see, an idle agitator - no honest labourer.

(Bob and Enos take the Stage)

Enos:

I have been busy with dreams my Lord.

Bob:

Dreams? What dreams are these?

Enos:

They are yours sir.

Bob:

We do not like these dreams.

Enos:

There are many who will share them with me in the camps and the markets. A man cannot be traitor to his dreams. There was a time, My Lord when you were a dreamer. And the dreams that you dreamd........

Bob:

Fine dreams make poor politics. You know my attitude. What I have accomplished must not be destroyed. The man who opposes me - the scholar, the dreamer, the parasite, - the scrounger will be destroyed, It has come to our knowledge that you have been spreading a poisonous doctrine amongst the tribes of Ham Jam and Bakonphat- you must pay the penalty.

Enos:

I stand where you stook in your youth. A man betrays his youth and it is he who pays the penalty. I do not fear your punishment - I only fear for the future of the people. You can prepare your padded cells, you can prepare your gallows, but you can never padlock my lips - you will never dampen my spirit.

Bob:

This is infamy.

Enos:

A man who betrays his youth is more infamous. My ideals will live when your flesh has rotted and worms feed sweetly on your bones.

Bob:

This is too much. (Takes spear and strikes young man. Slaves seize Enos and hold him. Bob waxes exceeding fierce.) The young man must be sacrificed.

(Then he drags the fallen youth from the [unclear: stage] in a terrific rage)

Tim:

Bob waxes wrathful - I fear for the youth.

Pariah:

He will get his deserts.

Bullah:

Kish, didst I promise thee a golden bracelet ??

All:

More wine, more wine (They get back to the interrupted banquet and sing strains of Mrs. Potiphar and the Psalm of Victory and shout among themselves.)

Curtain.