Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis - An Appeal to Women lyrics

O ye women! WIMMIN! WEEMIN!! See our tears repentant streamin'! See the pearly drops a-gleamin', Streamin' from our rheumy eye! Mark our weskits palpitatin'. Pray ye, be accommodation'. Spare a thought commiseratin', Say the Tory shall not die! Spare him, who has been your master, From political disaster. Doom approaches fast and faster. Save him - and the Marriage Tie! Long ago, when, in the gloaming, Hungry mastodons went roaming With a view to seeking out what they might scoff. There was little chance of spooning In the park; and honey-mooning, As a fashion, was most obviously 'off.' For a honeymoon's a failure, and the gladness of it's gone If you spend the latter end of it inside a mastodon. So the troglodyte, new-married, Cut his honeymoon, and tarried In his cavern with his little bit of frock; And instead of hugs and kisses, He caressed his lawful missus With a bit of cold, hard tertiary rock. For the 'proper sphere' for women in that neolithic race Was amongst the goods and chattels, and she had to keep her place. But, as troglodytes expanded, Rose a section that demanded More consideration for the women-folk; And the good old Tory faction Met, and moved to 'take some action' To oppose this foolish Socialistic joke. But they had a way of dealing with such people in those days; And, therefore, rocks gave way to clubs and other gentler ways. Hark, O, woman! WOMMAN! WOOMAN!! You would not be so inhuman As to seal the Tory's doom an' Join the Socialist hordes? O, ye women of the cla**es! Rise ye in your cultured ma**es! Haste, before the Tory pa**es. Be ye saviours of your lords. Lo, have we not fought your battles! (Hark! The foeman's armor rattles!) Would ye be his toys and chattels? Save us from Progression's swords! Pa**ing down the ancient ages, Skipping many pregnant pages, We arrive at that old magnate of the mines Solomon, in all his glory Rich monopolist and Tory, Who possessed some wives and countless concubines. And I shall not pause to dwell upon the Queen of Sheba's visit; For such gossip isn't tolerated 'midst the 'naicest,' is it? After that wise king was pensioned, Someone (who and when not mentioned) Said that men should have no more than one wife each. Then the good old crusted Tory Rose, with language loud and gory, And delivered a prolonged impa**ioned speech. He called this new proposal 'Socialist froth and foam That attacked the marriage contract and the sanctity of home.' Ay, he raved with indignation, Formed an ancient Federation Of Defence, and backed it up with piles of cash. But the rabid 'One-wife' section Fought and carried the election, And their legislation ill-advised and rash. Old Time has sprinted somewhat since that scheme was first begun, And now the Tory (I'm informed) is satisfied with one. O, ye women! WIMMIN! WEEMIN!! Don't ye hear the Tory screamin'? All along he's been esteemin' Womankind, since ages dim. He has pampered you and prized you; E'er adored and idolised you, And, moreover, recognised you As his equal. Fly to him! Has he not pa**ed legislation Granting you emancipation? If you'd save your reputation Haste to grant his ev'ry whim! Once again, with hasty fingers, Let us turn the page. Who lingers There will find that ancient history repeats. O'er and o'er the same old story, Telling how the dear old Tory Abdicates (perhaps) when womankind entreats. Well, he did admit her equal to his dog at any rate. So we'll pa** - with your permission - to affairs of recent date. Ah! did not the tender Tory Listen to her tearful story When she pleaded for a vote a while ago? Did he not cry out in anguish To behold his sister languish For the franchise that the men enjoyed! Oh no. 'Tis recorded - mayhap wrongly - that he fought her tooth and nail. And he sneered at her pretensions, but his sneers did not prevail. Does the Tory change? I doubt it. Watch him, how he goes about it, Like his prototype the troglodyte B.C., When her mood he wants to soften, See him smite her hard and often With large, heavy chunks of deadly orat'ry. But the outlook of she-troglodytes has much improved to-day; For, although they may not now it, they're his last and only stay. Hark ye, women! Women voters! Social queens and League promoters! Are ye ever to be doters On the male-bird of your type! Since Tory Adam bit the pippin He has blamed you for his slippin' And his sinnin'. Here's a rippin' Chance to pay back ev'ry stripe. Nay, it were a shame to lose it. You have got the franchise - use it! HE said that you would abuse it. Now! TMUMBS DOWN! The time is ripe!