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The Plutocrats [1937]

[Introduction]

(As soon as possible after the quick curtain, it rises again to display the two beer barrels and the scene as described in the Prologue. The Ministers are sitting in two rows as before, rubbing their eyes. They sing in a sleepy voice gradually growing louder. Mr Sausage is sitting on the back barrel holding the scroll.)

Chorus.
Labour Ministers.
Drink, brothers, drink, never think, raise your steins-
Drink brothers, drink and obliterate your minds
We have woken it would seem
From a dream
Of smoke and steam-
Clearly that is not the way
To manage our regime.

Mr. Sausage.

And now for the final bill of the evening - the Studant's Suppression Act. It has come to our large and august ears that certain students have been caricaturing the rulers of our beloved country. Such a practis is dangerous - very dangerous - because they're generally right.

Chorus of Ministers.
Drink, brothers, drink, never think, raise your stains,
Drink brothers, drink, and obliterate your minds,
Students we have often guessed
Are a pest
At their best
Clearly it is common sense
That they should be suppressed!

(The drop curtain rises quickly, to disclose the whole company assembled neatly before the great arch, ready for the final chorus)

Final Chorus (Very loud)
Drink, brothers, drink, never think - raise your steins,
Drink brothers, drink, and obliterate your minds.
Students we have often guessed
Are a pest
At their best
Clearly it is common sense
That they should be suppressed!

Final Curtain.

page 2

Although we look, A most unholy brood,
We always you with solicitude;
We watch you fry, And prod you gently here (Slap behinds).
With heartfelt sigh. And sympathetic tear.
We never smoke, we never drink, We never even try to think -
We're the Executive etc, etc.

The Witches' Chorus (To same air).
When we appear, We somehow feel that you
Will think that we're A rather doubtfull crew -
From narrow paths, We never never stray;
We have our baths, On every Saturday.
We love the birdies and the trees, The willows waving in the breeze.
We are the Belles of Hell, Pretty little witches,
Inhabiting the ditches, Simple loving little souls,
We are the Belles of Hell, We are the Belles of Hell,
Lovely little ladies, Ornamenting Hades;
Innocent and happy folk, - We are the Belles of Hell.

Although we seem, A little bit uncouth,
You'd never dream, The soul-inspiring truth -
On no excuse, Do we stay out at night;
We're never loose, And we're never tight!
We never stray, We never dance; We knit bed-socks for maiden aunts -
We are the Bellas of Hell etc, etc.

Chorus for Gilbert's Song. "The numerous cliques"
Executive and Witches.
Work, work, oh, for some work!
The strain is beginning to tell,
We demons, (Sung by Exec.)
and witches (Sung by witches).
All know what the hitch is,
Too much unemployment in Hell!