LECOCQ

THE DAUGHTER OF MADAME ANGOT

First let’s hear what the mother was like:

A merchant of the market,

She rose to lasting fame,

A legendary target

Of popular acclaim.

On holidays and galas

The public she would greet

With language learned from sailors

Whose words I can’t repeat.

Of the gutter,

Some would mutter

As they saw her fortune grow.

Superhuman,

What a woman

Was the fair Madame Angot!

A big balloon she mounted,

Serene and debonair,

Then found herself surrounded

By desert sand and air.

In Zanzibar they took her,

And tears were not enough.

Alive, they tried to cook her,

But found her rather tough.

Rough, but very

Mad and merry,

Catapulted to and fro;

People blunder

When they under-

Estimate Madame Angot.

Her travels unimpeded,

With confidence supreme,

In Turkey she succeeded

Beyond her wildest dream.

Five hundred in the harem --

The Sultan’s riding high!

Resolving to forswear ’em,

To her he gives the eye.

Barely proper,

None could stop her

When her hand was on the bow.

Superhuman,

What a woman

Was the fair Madame Angot!

High hopes fired the French Revolution, but now that the battle has pre-sumably been won, the pupular balladeer Ange Pitou wonders if things have changed all that much:

Corrupt and rich, the kings of old

Who found it lonely on the heights,

Were wont to purchase love with gold

And woo the fawning parasites.

Now we welcome a new regime --

A triumph born of great events.

The actress Lange now reigns supreme --

Explain to me the difference.

Barras is King and Lange is Queen --

A change of cast in the same old scene.

Was it for this that blood was spent

To overturn the government?

The kings of old despoiled the land

And claimed, of course, the lion’s share.

To fill the void, we have on hand

The prowling wolf Larivaudiere.

Undercover, he pays the debts

That men of rank and power accrue.

Oh, so generous! He forgets

The money all belongs to you.

Proudly we hail the new regime,

The sad remains of an innocent dream.

Was it for this that laws were bent

To overturn the government? . . .

The glamorous actress Lange is supremely confident of the power of her own weaponry in the hectic battle for survival:

On the field, men of war play the hero.

Though said to be the weaker sex,

Our muscle we can also flex.

When put upon our mettle

And forced to open fire,

Before the smoke can settle

We’ve got what we desire.

Astride a horse, they charge upon the foe,

Or scale a wall and take a town

To bring a kingdom tumbling down

And lay the mighty low.

We sound a smoother call to arms,

Our theatre of war

A polished ballroom floor,

And when we don our uniforms

Of satin chic and sheer,

Let the hero beware

On this fatal frontier . . .

Clairette, shy daughter of the late charismatic Madame Angot, stakes out her own independence, proving that she is indeed her mother’s daughter:

For me you’ve gone to great expense

To guard my state of innocence.

By nature honest, down to earth,

I gave you back your money’s worth.

My maiden blush and lowered eyes

I realize were just a sham,

Demure and docile, and all very nice,

But not in the least the girl I am.

Mother paved the way! Now her daughter,

Not the mealy mouth

You and others always thought her,

Starting now, will show

The real Mam’selle Angot . . .