The Song-Spotter

[Every summer a "song spotter" is sent to the seaside by the music-publishing firms. His duties are to listen to all the songs sung by the nigger minstrels, and to note which succeed.]

He stood on the beach with a haggard air,

   As the niggers sang their lays;

And I asked him the cause of his look of care

   (I had marked it on previous days).

"Cheer up," I said. "Oh, never despair;

   Perchance I may heal your wrongs."

"Alas," said he, "but it cannot be,

   For – shudder! – I'm spotting songs."

"Or ever the earliest shrimp is snared,

   In the earliest shrimper's net,

Or ever the primal bather's bared,

   Or the first toy yacht upset,

Or ever the lodgers start up, scared

   At the roar of their breakfast gongs,

Here on the strand I take my stand

   For the purpose of spotting songs.

"Others may 'scape to the gay hotel,

   To the desolate cliffs may flee,

May, if they fear not wave nor swell,

   Sail on a songless sea,

Stroll inland with a chosen belle,

   Far from the vocal throngs –

I must stay through the lifelong day,

   My mission is spotting songs.

"That is the reason why I'm depressed,

   Silent and grim and sad;

Ne'er may I fly from the noisome pest

   (It's driving me nearly mad).

Never on earth shall I find that rest

   For which my whole soul longs;

Evermore must I haunt this shore

   For the purpose of spotting songs."

First published in Punch, July 8, 1903.