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In Search of Poldorado.

Air: "Twin Duet" from "The French Maid."

Words by Mr. S. Eichelbaum.

Birk: Now, Krook, I'd like a little trip,
My dogs say't would be best;
I get no rest upon the Board,
Krook: O, how he bored the rest!
Birk: And if the Council'd let me go,
Those philanthropic souls,
I'd like to go to see the Pole;
Krook: I'll go to C P. Powles.

Krook: I clean and scrub and scrub and clean,
But see not my toil's fruits,
For, pray, what boots it, Prof., to clean?
Birk: If Profs. don't clean their boots.
Krook: My doctrine is to do what's right,
Despite you pedagogues,
But failure always dogs my sect,
Birk: And I dissect my dogs.

Chorus.
So off we go
To ice and floe,
A hidden-in-the-murk land;
And when we've found
That holy ground,
We'll call it H. B. Kirkland.

Jones: Then Birk, 'e comes to me and ses,
"Now Jones prepare to sail;
"We wants to go to 'ail the ice,"
Carter: And you to ice your ale.
Jones: "I'm with you there, my man," ses I,
"I likes a bit of fun,
"And tons of shekels we'll rake in,"
Carter: Like Mister Shackleton.

Carter: I took 'im down to see the Bay,
As merry as could be,
But just then when 'e see'd a ship,
Jones: She went and shipped a sea.
Carter: Ses 'e "A motor car for me,
"That's easily to be seen."
And while I backwards leaned to gas,
Jones: He leant to gasoline.

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Chorus.
So off we go
To ice and floe
A buried-coal-and-bones land,
And when we've found
That holy ground
We'll call it Captain Jonesland.

O'Pegan: I want to leave this wretched land,
Its legislation's lax,
For they should tax all single men;
Bodley: But why the single tax?
O'Pegan: And business too all seems to go
To Skerrett's, Bell's and Quick's,
And though young Dixon^* blames the place
Bodley: You place the blame on Dix.
Bodley: The milk-trade too is pretty bad,
In fact there's quite a slump,
And profits now are quite pumped dry;
O'Pegan: I s'pose you've dried the pump.
Bodley: And journalists are filled with joy
Because I've joined their ranks,
And though I all their thanks decline,
O'Pegan: They all decline with thanks.

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Chorus.
So off we go
To ice and floe
A very far and vague land,
And when we've found
That holy ground,
We'll call it Pat O'Regland.