Uncle Harry Songtext
von Noël Coward

Our families have traditions
We′ve heard them a thousand times
Our ancestors were unequivocally right
They frequently went on missions
To very peculiar climes
To lead the wretched heathen to the light
Though some of them were beaten up
And some of them stampeded
Though quite a lot were eaten up
A few of them succeeded

On one of these expeditions
An uncle we thought a bore
Turned out to be more spirited
Than ever he'd been before


Poor Uncle Harry
Wanted to be a missionary
So he took a ship and sailed away
This visionary
Hotly pursued by dear Aunt Mary
Found a South Sea isle on which to stay

The natives greeted them kindly
And invited them to dine
On yams and clams and human hams
And vintage coconut wine
The taste of which was filthy
But the after-effects divine

Poor Uncle Harry
Got a bit gay and longed to tarry
This Aunt Mary couldn′t quite allow
She lectured him severely
On a number of church affairs
But when she'd gone to bed
He made a getaway down the stairs
For he longed to hear the answer
To a few of the maiden's prayers
Uncle Harry′s not a missionary now


Now Uncle was just a seeker
A dreamer sincerely blessed
Of this there couldn′t be a shadow of doubt
The fact that his flesh was weaker
Than even our merry guest
Took even her some time to figure out

In all those languid latitudes
The atmosphere's exotic
To take up moral attitudes
Would be too idiotic
Though nobody could be meeker
Than Uncle had been before
I′ll bet today he's giving way
At practically every pore

Poor Uncle Harry
Having become a missionary
Found the natives′ morals rather crude
He and Aunt Mary
Swiftly imposed an arbitrary
Ban upon them shopping in the Mews

They all considered this silly
And decided to rebel
They burnt his boots and several suits
Which made a horrible smell
The subtle implication was
That Uncle could go to hell

Poor Uncle Harry
After some words with dear Aunt Mary
Thought the time had come to make a row

He lined up all the older girls
In one of the local sheds
But while he was reviling them
And tearing himself to shreds
They took their Mother Hubbards off
And tied them around their heads

Uncle Harry's not a missionary now

Poor Uncle Harry
After some tears from dear Aunt Mary
Called up in the chiefs for a pow-wow

They didn′t brandish knives at him
They really were awfully sweet
They made concerted dives at him
And offered him things to eat

But when they threw their wives at him
He had to admit defeat

Uncle Harry's not a missionary now

He's awfully happy
But he′s certainly not a missionary now