I went the other night to see the amateurs' show
Where all was local talent, it was but a week ago
They played the first scene from Macbeth which went extremely well
Each artist had to make his bow before the curtain fell
Then following that there was announced a Concert Hall affair
And all the local amateurs were congregated there
Negro artists, comic singers, tenors in full blow
Appeared upon the programme at the amateurs' show.

Chorus: I never saw such ructions I'd have you all to know
As I saw on this occasion at the amateurs' show.

There first appeared a lady, her friends greeted her with cheers
The gallery were opposed to this, and threw derisive jeers
Amidst a storm of hissing, she sang, 'Coming through the Rye'
And someone in the pit cried out, 'Go somewhere else and die!'
She didn't get much further for the prompter said, 'Come off'
And then appeared a wretched, lanky, washed-out looking toff
He said he'd sing a tenor song, 'Put me in my little bed'
But a dead cat struck him in the neck and nearly knocked him dead.


There next came a negro, he had on his back a hump
They knew him, for a boy cried out, 'Tommy you're off your chump!'
The audience couldn't stand him for they soon commenced to moan
And when he tried a stump speech I could hear them fairly groan
He commenced with,'I am here dear friends', but someone said, 'you're not'
The same voice cried out, 'Tommy Jones your voice is Tommy Rot!'
Then Tommy lost his temper, and flew into a rage
A trap was pulled beneath him, and he vanished through the stage.


Then John Magroo the Masher King appeared and made his bow
He sang, 'The night I sung Sims Reeves,' But 'I haven't for a long time now'
They showed disapprobation with tobacco chews and eggs
And a brickbat with unerring aim knocked him clean off his legs
Then there appeared two Irishmen who said they came from Cork
They told us they were banker's clerks and were looking out for work
A man in the gallery said, 'What bosh! to carry bricks you're fit'
Then an Irishman behind him chucked him over in the pit.


Still another lady did appear, I'll swear she was ninety years
She warbled in a voice soprano, 'Love dry up those tears'
A man who sat behind me said, 'Dry up that dreadful row!'
Another said, 'She won't be safe if she don't get off now!'
She faltered in her singing and her own tears fell like rain
Some sypathetic person then suggested 'Try again'
She started howling as before, 'twas worse without a doubt
Then an old man in the pit cried out, 'I'd like to chuck her out.'

Performed by G.W. Hunter (1851-1927)
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