To a common tune.
Originally published in The Man in the Moon (David Bogue) vol.1 #1 (Jan 1847).
AIR--"Lucy Neal."
I lived in the Haymarket
Where the opera singers squeal;
And used to know a music-firm,
Whose second name was Beale.
We used to run together
As I found for mutual weal;
And then it was I came to like
The plans of Thomas Beale.
Oh! you Thomas Beale,
Oh! you Thomas Beale.
When you've got the season o'er,
How happy you will feel.
One season Beale some concerts gave,
And I allowed his zeal.
There was no music-firm in town
Could get up one like Beale.
But he contrived to sell me,
And all my corps did steal;
Which caused a separation
'Twixt myself and Mr. Beale.
Oh! poor Thomas Beale, &c.
Then Grisi she behaved so ill.
How bad it makes me feel!
She said that she would give me up,
And go to Mr. Beale.
One morn I got a letter,
And seal'd with Giulia's seal!
It was th' announcement of the fact
She'd signed with Mr. Beale!
Oh! you Thomas Beale, &c.
They speak of other singers,
But the wound they cannot heal,
For my troupe, my troupe is broken,
And its all along of Beale.
Though Balfe I find is prying
All abroad with earnest zeal,
I know there's none worth trying,
All are book'd by Thomas Beale!
Oh! you Thomas Beale,
Oh! you Thomas Beale,
If I had you far away.
How happy I should feel.