In early drafts of Patience, Gilbert originally wrote “The Soldiers of Our Queen” as a two verse song. By the time of Patience’ Opening Night, however, Gilbert had rewritten the piece as a one verse song. For our 1990 production of Patience, members of our company asked the Director, Zoe Kuester, if it might be possible to add a second verse, as it was such a delightful, but all too short song. As Gilbert’s original second verse was not appropriate in context with the current first verse, Zoe invited the members of the company to write a new second verse. Holly Windle did so and her new text was used in that production and in the company’s subsequent production of Patience in 2002. Throughout the run of the 1990 production, Holly continued to write “second verses” to the song. Unlike most of our alternate lyrics songs, rather than saving these for the show’s Last Gasp Cast Bash, Holly provided them to the men of the chorus, who in the Green Room, before almost every performance, would sing the verse to the rest of the company. The version sung Opening Night … The soldiers of our Queen
Are just a trifle nervous;
Some look a little green
And mutter, “Saints preserve us!”
For this is opening night,
Portending joy or sorrow;
Let’s hope we get things right -
Or better luck tomorrow!
Let’s hope we get things right -
Or better luck tomorrow! The versions sung before the performances that followed … The soldiers of our Queen
Have military muscle.
For shooting we are keen,
And how we love a tussle!
In battle none so brave
In strategy or combat.
Our banner high we wave:
A rampant azure wombat!
Our banner high we wave:
A rampant azure wombat! The soldiers of our Queen
Are very heavy eaters;
We dine in the canteen,
And drink our beer in litres.
Raw meat we never scorn
From sheep or pig or cattle,
But when we hear the horn
We waddle off to battle!
But when we hear the horn
We waddle off to battle! The soldiers of our Queen
Are selfish, vain, and stuffy;
At meals and in between,
We quarrel and get huffy.
We often cheat at cards,
Our tempers are appalling,
So when we joined the guards,
We knew we’d found our calling!
So when we joined the guards,
We knew we’d found our calling! The soldiers of our Queen
Like breaking in our horses;
With spur and rowel keen,
We let them know what force is.
With women, too, we claim:
Apply the reins and halter,
And when we have them tame,
We bring them to the altar!
And when we have them tame,
We bring them to the altar! The soldiers of our Queen
Are full of spit and polish.
Our boots are always clean;
The foe we will demolish.
And so we sing this song
To demonstrate our forces.
We’re bold and fierce and strong,
Admired by our horses.
We’re bold and fierce and strong,
Admired by our horses. The soldiers of our Queen
Spend too much time with horses;
With women we turn green
And don’t know what our course is.
We’re nervous, awkward, scared,
And apt to shy and sidle,
Completely unprepared
To end up in a bridal.
Completely unprepared
To end up in a bridal. The soldiers of our Queen
Are poor at golf and tennis;
At polo on the green
Our riding is a menace.
And when we’re shooting grouse
With gun or bow and arrow,
You’d best stay in the house,
And offer up a prayer-O!
You’d best stay in the house,
And offer up a prayer-O! The soldiers of our Queen
Are paragons of power;
We’re stalwart, brave, and clean;
We make the foeman cower.
With women we’ve no peer,
They love our manly chorus;
They tremble when we’re near
Because they all adore us.
They tremble when we’re near
Because they all adore us. The soldiers of our Queen
Are fond of blood and thunder;
Our regiment’s routine
Is now the seventh wonder.
We fight and shoot and ride,
And drink and swear like Hades,
Except when we’re beside
Our mothers or our ladies.
Except when we’re beside
Our mothers or our ladies. The soldiers of our Queen
Are dangerous and daring,
Competitive and keen,
We revel in war-faring;
Off-duty it’s the same,
Our skill needs no direction;
We win at every game
Because we are perfection!
We win at every game
Because we are perfection! The soldiers of our Queen
Are right to be conceited;
In battle we are keen,
We’ve never been defeated.
In courtship, we are grand;
We’re ardent, bold, and plucky,
And when we win her hand,
The lady knows she’s lucky.
And when we win her hand,
The lady knows she’s lucky. The soldiers of our Queen
Are not like normal people;
We love to make a scene
(At church, we climb the steeple);
Our voices are too loud,
We’ve lots of red corpuscles,
And we can draw a crowd
Each time we flex our muscles.
And we can draw a crowd
Each time we flex our muscles. The soldiers of our Queen
Are not in The Mikado.
No vase or jar or screen
Can picture our bravado.
No wandering minstrel we
Who loves some geisha cutie;
An English girl for me
Great Britain, Home, and Duty!
An English girl for me
Great Britain, Home, and Duty! The soldiers of our Queen
Are everywhere admired –
Our fingernails are clean;
Our marching is inspired.
The ladies note our charms,
And pledge their love eternal;
To them we give our arms,
(By order of the Colonel).
To them we give our arms,
(By order of the Colonel). The soldiers of our Queen
Drink pots of tea and coffee,
Ingest too much caffeine,
And top it off with toffee!
Their diet is the thing
Affects both work and slumber;
They’re jumpy when they sing -
Just watch their opening number!
They’re jumpy when they sing -
Just watch their opening number! The soldiers of our Queen
In social skills are lacking;
At parties they convene
To concentrate on snacking.
With manners coarse and crude,
They bluster, boast, and bellow,
And eat up all the food
(Unless it’s veg. or jello)!
And eat up all the food
(Unless it’s veg. or jello)! The soldiers of our Queen
Mix Perrier with their whisky;
All heedless of benzine,
They soon are loud and frisky.
Outrageous, rowdy, rude
(Don’t blame it on the water),
They’re brutish, base, and crude –
Don’t let one near your daughter!
They’re brutish, base, and crude –
Don’t let one near your daughter! The soldiers of our Queen
Could never be artistic,
But envy turns them green
(Oh, aren’t they atavistic!).
Though Bunthorne they deride
And think his verses funny,
It cannot be denied:
The ladies all love Bunny!
It cannot be denied:
The ladies all love Bunny! The soldiers of our Queen
Have no aesthetic feeling;
Each one’s a philistine,
His bourgeois soul revealing.
It simply must be faced:
They have no inner fire;
Their only mark of taste –
The ladies they admire.
Their only mark of taste –
The ladies they admire. Others in the cast wrote alternate versions to this catchy tune as well. The following three are by Waldyn Benbenek (who played Col. Calverley): The soldiers of our Queen
Sit tall up in the saddle.
Their eyes of gentle green
Turn steely grey in battle.
All lessers fall before us
When we’re a prize pursuing
Victorious in war as
Glorious in wooing.
Victorious in war as
Glorious in wooing. The soldiers of our Queen
Are splendours in a battle.
We’re wonders to be seen
On foot or in the saddle.
When we present our arms
No maid escapeth capture.
Surrender to our charms is
Surrender to their rapture.
Surrender to our charms is
Surrender to their rapture. The soldiers of our Queen
March off in all directions.
Their minds aren’t very keen
They follow their erections.
They’re primo beef as mates
When they’re with liquor sotted.
But when one sets a date
They’re nowhere to be spotted.
But when one sets a date
They’re nowhere to be spotted. The authors to these three have been lost in the mists of time: The soldiers of our Queen
Are having trouble marching.
Their trousers aren’t clean,
Their collars need some starching,
And every mother’s son
Is scared of all the “dollies,”
The Ericas and Jeans
And ‘specially the Hollys
The Ericas and Jeans
And ‘specially the Hollys. The soldiers of our Queen
Are always first at table.
Each eats like a machine,
As fast as he is able.
And when the party’s done
They’ve popped off all their buttons
Their tunics are undone,
Those soldiers sure are gluttons
Their tunics are undone,
Those soldiers sure are gluttons! The soldiers of our Queen
Are sinking in the heather.
Each has his “Bonnie Jean,”
They’re going down together
And when they’ve proved their prowess
(Good soldiers never tire!)
They’ll find their ladies dear,
For they are Girls for Hire
They’ll find their ladies dear,
For they are Girls for Hire! Holly also wrote a version for the women’s chorus to sing to the men … The soldiers of our Queen
Have visions of their marriage:
A wife in bombazine
Sits stiffly in a carriage;
The center of her life
Is her dragoonish dearie.
(Oh, sisters, such a wife
Would very soon grow weary!)
(Oh, sisters, such a wife
Would very soon grow weary!) During the Act I Finale of Patience, when the chorus men and women are briefly reconciled, the women surprised the men, during one performance, by planting a previously unblocked kiss on their partners’ cheeks. Some of the women, however, discovered, in doing so, that their partners had not shaved since that morning. This alternate lyric was intended to let the men know that if they wanted more of the same, they had better shave before the performance! The soldiers of our Queen
Have scrappy, scratchy faces.
Their whiskers like baleen
They count among their graces.
To press that prickly cheek
Is no romantic dally;
If gratitude you’d seek,
Please shave for the finale!
If gratitude you’d seek,
Please shave for the finale! The following two verses (by Holly again) were written and performed to celebrate the occasion of the 100th performance by The Gilbert & Sullivan Very Light Opera Company at the Howard Conn Fine Arts Center, on March 30, 1990… The soldiers of our Queen
Are veteran campaigners –
A hundred actions seen
By seasoned entertainers.
The audience in hordes,
(In groups or one-by-one-ing)
Has seen us tread these boards
Eleven seasons running.
Has seen us tread these boards
Eleven seasons running. The soldiers of our Queen
With other luminaries,
Upon this stage have been –
Peers, pirates, yeomen, fairies.
In singing, dancing fun,
With Plymouth’s approbation,
One hundred shows we’ve done –
That’s cause for celebration!
One hundred shows we’ve done –
That’s cause for celebration! A version that referenced the fire at the Savoy that occurred during our rehearsals … The soldiers of our Queen
So history discloses,
Adorned the Savoy scene
With military poses.
But recently we learned,
Dismayed to hear the story,
The Savoy has been burned–
The scene of former glory!
The Savoy has been burned–
The scene of former glory! Finally, Stephen B. Sullivan, our Set Designer and a member of the men’s chorus commissioned Holly Windle to write a couple of versions of the song that he used as his biography for the show… This soldier of our Queen
Is also Set Designer;
A company chorine
He married (no one finer!).
Nine years he’s been around;
Three sets he has created;
His carpentry is sound
(His singing too, it’s stated).
His carpentry is sound
(His singing too, it’s stated). This soldier of our Queen
(Who’s also Set Designer)
Deserves the guillotine
For crimes much more than minor.
But why present his wrongs
And ask for an arraignment?
A show to do, and songs,
Are better entertainment.
A show to do, and songs,
Are better entertainment | 