"Kipling's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (1915) - A Parody of TS Eliot's Pre-Modernist Poem by Jim Macdonald

[The Hersch]

Dudley Moore's Beethoven parody over in the Music Forum reminded me of this piece of brilliance, a parody of TS Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by Jim Macdonald.

[The Hersch]

I was referring not to Eliot's poem, but to a parody by Jim Macdonald, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by Rudyard Kipling, below.

Kipling's The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

You can talk o' coffee spoons
When you're sittin' in your rooms
Or wanderin' dark streets wi' bad intent
But when comin' down the stairs
You 'ad better all bewares
O' our Michelangel-wallah, Alfred 'Frock!
The arguments 'e made
Very seldom would dissuade
The colonel from decidin' what was what,
But the way 'e tied 'is tie
Made the lads shout "Harry By!"
When 'e brought the mermaids to the sentry 'ut.

An' it's 'Frock, 'Frock, 'Frock!

Why you bugger, what's that 'idden in your smock?

You go

risposta fosse

Wi' your

senza piu scosse!

Why's a peach stuck in your pocket, Alfred 'Frock?

The uniform 'e wore
Was 'is trousers rolled before
An' 'is hair combed down a little bit behind.
When the fog was blowin' yellow
You'd go lookin' for the fellow
An' some novels an' some teacups you would find.
We was standin' in the hall
When Prince 'Amlet came to call
An' a lord was what we needed an' right quick
So we started in to shout,
"Is there any lord about?"
When up an' came a-trottin' Alfred 'Frock

An' it's 'Frock! 'Frock! 'Frock!

Would you leave off watchin' that thrice-blessed clock?

If you don't

tornass' al mondo

You can just

di questo fondo

You bleedin' literary Alfred 'Frock!

'E was tellin' 'is one joke,
'Bout a showgirl an' a bloke,
When the prince 'e keeled over wi' ennui
In the midst o' some digression
'Bout the claws an' their procession
That didn't make a lick o' sense to me.
So 'e took a slice o' toast,
An' a piece o' a cold roast,
Then 'e looked for just a spot o' marmalade.
Wi' a smile a little bent
'E said, "That's not what I meant,"
An' that is 'ow 'e ended 'is tirade.

An' it's 'Frock! 'Frock! 'Frock!
You're listenin' to a string quartet by Bach!
Wi' your stream o' conscious' blather
An' an angsty long palaver
You're an influential poet, Alfred 'Frock!