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Original Document
Dan Rice's "Multifarious Account of Shakspeare's Hamlet," 1866

Hamlet, the Dane, of him just deign to hear,
And for that object lend at least one ear.
I will a tale unfold whose lightest word
Will freeze your soul and turn your blood to curd.
He lived in Denmark, Hamlet did, did he,
A nice young man as ever you did see,
Not short, but tall, and rather thin than stout;
his anxious mother knew that he was out -
Out of his head, and rather wise than queer,
And much in love with Miss Ophelia dear;
But to my tale, or rather yourn, Shakspeare.
One night two fellows, standing at their post,
Beheld, my stars! a real, living ghost!
Whose ghost was be, so dismal and unhappy?
It was, my eyes! the ghost of hamlet's pappy.
And so those fellows went and told Lord Hamlet,
Who came to see him, in a cloak of camlet,
Toss'd o'er his shoulders, for 'twas bitter cold,
While that bad spirit did his tale unfold.
My, wan't he scared to see his pa so soon
Revisit thus the glimpses of the moon;
And want he mad to hear his daddy say
How Hamlet's uncle poisoned him one day,
As in his orchard he did take a snooze!
Well, Hamlet was astonished at the news,
And swore by jingo, with prodigious rant,
To kill his uncle pa and mother aunt;
And so he went about a-making speeches,
All by himself, in doublet, hose and breeches.
Oh, I can't tell how very bad be felt,
He wanted his too solid flesh to melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a-Jew-dew
Is the word, but Charley Kean says Jew,
And I, the clown Shaksperian, say so, too;
I wish I was a, tragedian, yes I do,
I'd make about ye'r ears the worst of clatters,
And tear my shirt and passion into tatters.
But what, you'd like to know, did Hamlet next;
Oh, he was very much perplexed and vexed,

And cursed the world a tremendous sight,
That he was ever bound to set, it right,
And make believe that he had lost his wits,
And frightened poor Ophelia into fits -
Doublet unlaced, upon his head no but,
His stockings foul, ungartered and all that;
It was the ecstacy of love, you say,
But these were actions any man might play.
The king was puzzled, so he sent, I learn,
For Messieurs Rosenerantz and Oildenstern,
To pump Lord Hamlet, whether he had got
A real, right down crazy fit or not.
It wouldn't do; although they were so keen,
They didn't find in Hamlet nothing green.

It seems to me that Hamlet was not crazy,
But moped about because he was so lazy.
At last he said, "The play, the play's the thing,
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king."
So he got up a play-they played so bad
It made the king and courtiers dreadful mad.
Gracious, how he did fly around and prance!
Just in this place Macready makes him dance,
Which is ridiculous in such a chap
As Hamlet, up to ev'ry sort of trap,
Who, to revenge his murdered dad, did kick
His uncle from his kingdom slick and quick.
But, to make short a story rather long,
Hamlet cut several shindies that were wrong,
And they packed him off to England, where
He did not stay, since he did not get there.

All unexpected by his pa and ma,
He came to Denmark in a first class car;
No, not exactly, for you well may deem
In Hamlet's clay things didn't go by steam;
But, howsomever, in a graveyard he
Was found, as grave as any grave could be,
Playing at tenpins with the skulls, and joking
With the old digger, who the bones was poking;
Thunder and Moses! wasn't there a scene,
With young Laertes and the king and queen.
He jumped into Ophelia's grave and said,
"Just pile a million acres on my head!"

Of course they didn't do it, 'cause they couldn't;
And if they could, I rather guess they wouldn't,
Because of time 'twould take a precious sight,
And so they all agreed to go and fight,
Quite in a friendly manner, with some foils,
But pretty fries they made of all their broils,
For to the court they hied before the king,
And round about the people formed a ring,
And at it hot they went, those nice young men,
And stuck each other's gizzards there and then.
But ah, alas! he, oh, ha, hi, he, hum,
The points of them there foils were poisoned some,
Which Hamlet soon found out, and, like a Turk,
Ferocious sung out -Venom, do thy work!"
And stabbed his uncle dead as any nail.
Before this time, his mother had grown pale
As is my shirt, and very dead beside.
Not to be singular, Hamlet up and died
Himself, and so they all did die,
Which is so, dismal that it makes me cry
Hubbabalub-boo-boo-a first rate story,
Some die for love and some for glory.


Credit: Dan Rice, American Humorist Dan Rice's Great Song Book [S. I. }: s.d., 1866.
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