Imagine The Duchess's Feelings! - Noël Coward

The duchess had manner, for dignity lurks

In the shadows of Debret

But fate threw a spanner smack into the works

Tarnishing her coronet

Three large sons were born to her

But one sad morn to her

There came a premonition of regret

Said the duchess «Well—

Something doesn’t gel.»

Said the duchess.

«Well!

Hell!»

Imagine the duchess’s feelings

On having hatched out her brood

To find her first son was weak, though well-mannered, Her second rather stupid

And the third plain rude

Her eldest son, when in trouble, went white

Her second son looked blue and hung his head

But imagine the duchess’s feelings

When her youngest son went red!

She sent them to Etton, traditional youth

Was theirs whatever else they’ve got

But nothing could sweeten the bitterest truth

That baby wasn’t quite so hot

High life gave no joy to him

The hoi polloi to him

Provided something that his peers did not

Said her grace aghast

«Is it going to last?»

Said her grace aghast

«Blast!»

Imagine the Duchess’s feelings—

You could have pierced her with swords—

When she discovered her youngest, liked Lenin

And sold the Daily Worker near the House of Lords

Her eldest son went to Boodle’s and White’s

Her second joined the blues his father led

But imagine the Duchess’s feelings

When her youngest son went Red

Imagine the duchess’s feelings

Her overwhelming despair

To find her third son hobnobbed with the butler

And sang The Internationale in Belgrave square

Her first son’s debts bled the family white

Her second son blu’d everything and fled—

But imagine the Duchess’s feelings

When the apple of the eye went Red

Poor mammy

Her youngest son went red