After “Antrobus”

As performed at The Stables – St Georges Day 23 April 201




Letter In                     Sheila
Saint George            Ted
Black Prince             Don
Mary                            Eric
Quack Doctor           Julian
Derry Doubt              Di
Lame Jane               Sue
Old Tosspot              Isabel
Beelzebub                Kevin
Driver                         Vicki

Enter to Old Woman Tossed Up. When in half circle for performance, sing following verse:

Here come jolly good lads and we’re all in one mind.
For tonight we’ve come a mumming good nature to find.
For tonight we’ve come a mumming as it doth appear-
And it’s all that we are mumming for is your ale and strong beer.

Letter In
Now ladies and gentlemen, light a fire and strike a light,
For in this house there’s going to be a dreadful fight
Between Saint George and the Black Prince
And I hope Saint George will win.
Whether he wins, loses, fights or falls,
We’ll do our best to please you all.

Saint George
In comes I, the Champion Bold,
I’ve won £10,000 in gold,
‘Twas I who fought the fiery dragon and brought him to the slaughter,
And by these means I won the King of Egypt’s daughter.
I’ve travelled the whole world round and round,
But never a man of my equal found.
If you don’t believe these words I say,
Step in, Black Prince, and clear the way.

Black Prince
In comes I Black Prince of Paradise, born of high renown,
I’ve come to take Saint George’s life and courage down.
If that be he who standeth there, who slew my master’s son and heir,
If that be he of royal blood,
I’ll make it flow like Noah’s flood.

Saint George
Ah! Ah! Mind what thou sayest.

Black Prince
What I say, I mean.

Saint George
Stand back thou dog! Or by my sword thou shalt die.
I’ll pierce thy body full of holes and make thy buttons fly.

Black Prince
How canst thou make my body full of holes and make my buttons fly?
When my body’s made of iron,
My fingers and toes of double joints,
I challenge ye to yield! Prepare!

(They fight and Black Prince falls dead. Enter Mary)

Oh! Saint George! What has thou done?
Thou’s killed and slain my only son, my only heir,
See how he lays dead and bleeding there!

Saint George
Well Mary, he challenged me to a fight,
Better to fight than to die.
Ten punds for a doctor, five for a quack!
If you don’t believe these words I say,
Step in Quack Doctor and clear the way.

(Enter Quack Doctor)

Quack Doctor
In comes I, who never cometh yet,
The best quack doctor you can get.
Here I come from the continent to cure this man Saint George has slain.

How camest thou to be a doctor?

By my travels.

And where hast thou travelled?

Icaly, Picaly, France and Spain,
Three times out to the West Indies
And back to old England to cure diseases again.
And what disease canst thou cure?

All sorts.

And what’s all sorts?

Quack Doctor
All sorts; the Hump, the Grump, the Ger, the Gout,
The pain within and the pain without.
In my bag I’ve got spectacles to blind humblebees,
Crutches for lame mice, plasters for broken backed earwigs.
I’ve pills and I’ve powders for all kinds of aches, including headache,
Earache, also cold shakes.
I’ve lotions and I’ve motions, also some fine notions
That have carried my fame far wide over five oceans.

And what are thy fees to cure my son?

Quack Doctor
Five pounds, Mary, but you being a decent woman, I’ll only charge you ten.

Well, cure him!

Quack Doctor (to Black Prince)
Here John, take three sips from this bottle down thy thrittle throttle.
Now arise, and fight thy battle.

Thou silly man, as green as grass, the dead man never stirs.

Quack Doctor
Oh! Mary, I quite forgot. I took the right bottle of the wrong cork.
I have another little bottle right here in my inside? – no outside? – somewhere
Round the backside pocket, which will soon bring him to life again.

(Stoops and gives another drink. Black Prince stirs.)

Black Prince
Oh! My back!

What ails thy back, my son?

Black Prince
My back is broken.
My heart is confounded,
Knocked out of seven centuries into fourteen score,
Which has never been known in Old England before.

Quack Doctor
Here, John, take three drops of this down thy thrittle throttle,
Now arise and fight thy battle.

(Saint George and Black Prince fight again. Enter Letter In)

Letter In
Lay down your sword and rest
For peace and quietness is the best.
He who fights and runs away
Lives to fight another day.
If you don’t believe these words I say,
Step in Derry Doubt and clear the way.

Derry Doubt
In comes little Derry Doubt
With my shirt lap hanging out,
Five yards in and five yards out-
Out goes little Derry Doubt.

Lame Jane 
In comes I Lame Jane, with a neck as long as a crane
Once I was a young maid, now I’m a down old widow
A wig behind and a wig before.
Ware out my lads and I’ll sweep the floor.

Lame Jane and Letter In do broom dance

Old Tosspot
In comes I Old Tosspot;
Am I welcome or am I not,
For I do hope Old Tosspot will never be forgot.
I have a little purse and it’s made of leather skin,
It needs a silver sixpence to line it well within.
And if you don’t believe these words I say
Step in Beelzebub and clear the way.

In comes Be-el-ze-bub,
On my shoulder I carry my club,
In my hands a dripping pan,
And I reckon myself a jolly old man.
With a rin-tin-tin, I sup more drink,
I’ll drink a pot dry with any man.
I’ve just done six months in gaol for making a whip crack out of a mouse’s tail.
Early Monday morning, late on Saturday night,
I saw 10,000 miles away a house just out of sight.
The doors projected backwards, the front was at the back,
It stood alone between two more and the walls was whitewashed black.
If you don’t believe these words I say,
Step in Driver and clear the way.

In comes Dick and all his men,
He’s come to see you once again,
He was once alive, but now he’s dead,
He’s nothing but a poor old horse’s head.
He’s travelled high, he’s travelled low,
He’s travelled all through frost and snow,
He’s travelled the land of Ikerty Pikkery,
Where there’s neither land nor city;
Houses thatched with pancakes,
Walls built with penny loaves,
Pig puddings for bellropes, and black puddings growing on apple trees;
Little pigs running about with knives and forks in their backs,
Crying out ‘Who’ll eat men?’
This horse was bred in Seven Oaks,
The finest horse e’er fed on oats;
He’s won the Derby and the Oaks,
And now pulls an old milk float.
And if you don’t believe a word I say,
We’ll sing you a song to end the play.

Saint George (sings)
Good morning lords and ladies
It is St George’ Days
We hope you like our garland
It is so bright and gay
ALL (sing)
For it is St George’s Day
Oh it is St George’s Day
We thank you Lords and ladies
On this St George’s Day
Saint George (sings)
The cuckoo comes in April
And sings his song in May
In June he changes tune
In July he flies away
ALL (sing)
For it is St George’s Day
Oh it is St George’s Day
We thank you Lords and ladies
On this St George’s Day
We’re not the London actors that act upon the stage,
We are just country ploughboys that work for little wage,
Oh we are just local folk, we’re the Stony Stratford Mummers,
We wish you all good night friends and many happy Summers.