The Stately Homes of England

Performed by Noel Coward
Recorded 1943

Lord Elderley, Lord Borrowmere,
Lord Sickert and Lord Camp
With every virtue, with every grace,
Are what avails the sceptred race.

Here you see the four of us,
And there are so many more of us
Eldest sons that must succeed,
We know how Caesar conquered Gaul
And how to whack a cricket ball,
Apart from this, our education
Lacks coordination.
Tho' we're young and tentative
We're rather rip-re-presentative,
Scions of a noble breed,
We are the products of those homes serene and stately
That only lately seems to have run to seed!

The stately homes of England how beautiful they stand,
To prove the upper classes have still the upper hand;
Tho' the fact they have to be rebuilt
And frequently mortgaged to the hilt
Is inclined to take the gilt off the gingerbread,
And certainly damps the fun,
Of the eldest son.
But still we won't be beaten,
We'll scrimp and screw and save,
The playing fields of Eton have made us frightfully brave
And tho' if the Van Dykes have to go
And we pawn the Bechstein grand
We'll stand by the stately homes of England

Here you see the pick of us
You may be heartily sick of us
Still with sense we're all imbued
Our homes command extensive views.
And with assistance from the Jews.
We have been able to dispose of
Rows and rows and rows of
Gainsboroughs and Lawrences
Some sporting prints of Aunt Florence's
Some of which we rather rude
Although we sometimes flaunt our family conventions
Our good intentions
Mustn't be misconstrued.

The stately homes of England we proudly represent,
We only keep them up for Americans to rent.
Though the pipes that supply the bathroom burst
And the lavatory makes you fear the worst
It was used by Charles the first (quite informally),
And later by George the fourth on a journey north,
The state apartments keep their historical reknown,
It's wiser not to sleep there in case they tumble down;
But still if they ever catch on fire
Which with any luck they might,
We'll fight for the stately homes of England.

The stately homes of England though rather in the lurch,
Provide a lot of chances for psychical research
There's a ghost of a crazy younger son,
Who murdered in thirteen fifty one,
An extremely rowdy nun (who resented it),
And people who come to call
Meet her in the hall.
The baby in the guest wing who crouches by the grate,
Was walled up in the west wing in fourteen twenty eight.
If anyone spots the Queen of Scots in a hand embroidered shroud,
We're proud of the stately homes of England.