ABDUL ABULBUL AMIR
by
Percy French

The sons of the Prophet are brave men and bold
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdul Abulbul Amir.

If you wanted a man to encourage the van,
Or harass the foe from the rear,
Storm fort or redoubt, you had only to shout
For Abdul Abulbul Amir.

Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar,
And the bravest of these was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

One day this bold Russian, he shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer,
Downtown he did go where he trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

Young man, quote Abdul, has life grown so dull
That you wish to end your career?
Vile infidel know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

So take your last look at the sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Czar
For by this I imply, you are going to die,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

Then this bold Mameluke drew his trusty skibouk,
Singing, "Allah! Il Allah! Al-lah!"
And with murderous intent he ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

They parried and thrust, they side-stepped and cussed,
Of blood they spilled a great part;
The philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes,
Say that hash was first made on the spot.

They fought all that night ‘neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar,
And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame,
Of Abdul and Ivan Skavar.

As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life,
In fact he was shouting, "Huzzah!"
He felt himself struck by that wily Calmuck,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer,
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh,
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls,
And ‘graved there in characters clear,
Is, "Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."

A splash in the Black Sea one dark moonless night
Caused ripples to spread wide and far,
It was made by a sack fitting close to the back,
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,
'Neath the light of the cold northern star,
And the name that she murmurs in vain as she weeps,
Is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

Alternate verses:

The sons of the Prophet are brave men and bold
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
They could jockey a stallion, ambush a battalion,
And blow the froth off a beer

But needing a man to encourage the van,
Or harass the enemy's rear,
Or storm a redoubt, they would always send out
For Abdul Abulbul Amir.

THE RETURN OF ABDUL ABULBUL AMIR
written and performed by
Frank Crumit

By the sea of Sargossa I wandered one night,
The moon it was shining quite clear.
for no reason at all I heard someone call
for Abdul Abulbul Ameer.

Now Abdul Abulbul I knew to be dead,
the story had spread near and far,
how he lost his life while plunging his knife
into Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

While I pondered the moonbeams descended quite low
casting shadows suffusely, and then,
I discovered that I was standing close by
the tombs of those two famous men.

Then in the tombs shadows there rose from a grave
the form of a Russian Hussar,
and my skin nearly peeled, as he stood there revealed,
it was Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.

'Twas he who was calling, I hardly dared breathe,
my heart 'most stopped beating from fear,
when out of a grave, in need of a shave,
arose Abdul Abulbul Ameer.

"Well, wouldst speak with me Ivan?", quoth Abdul quite low.
"I wouldst", replied Ivan quite clear.
"That quarrel we had, 'twas all to the bad.
friend Abdul Abulbul Ameer.

"I've lain here for ages with that on my mind,
and that's why I called you tonight".
"Well, I'm in the same state", quoth Abdul the great,
"Twas foolish for we two to fight".

"Oh friend, thou art blameless", cried Ivan in haste,
"The fault lies in my hands alone".
But Abdul said "Nay, 'twas never that way, the fault
was no one's but mine own."

"Well, dost think I'm a coward?", quoth Ivan Skavar,
"Step forth and I'll slice off thine ear."
"Oh, son of a cat, you'll never do that",
quoth Abdul Abulbul Ameer.

So once more they battled and fought as before,
the multitudes came from afar,
and lauded with cheers these bold buccaneers,
this Turk, and this Russian Hussar.

Twas just at that moment each sword found its mark
and I heard a blood-curdling scream,
I opened my eyes and to my surprise
I found it was only a dream.

ABDULLA BULBUL AMEER

The sons of the prophet were hardy and bold
And quite unaccustomed to fear
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.

This son of the desert in battle aroused
Could spit twenty men on his spear
A terrible creature both sober and soused
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.

If you wanted a man to encourage the van
Or to harass the foe from the rear
Or to storm a redoubt
You had only to shout
For Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.

There are heroes aplenty and men known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar
But the bravest of these was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

He could imitate Irving, play euchre and pool
And perform on the Spanish Guitar
In fact quite the cream of the Muscovite team
Was Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

The ladies all loved him, his rivals were few
He could drink them all under the bar
As gallant or tank there was no one to rank
With Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

One day this bold Russian had shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer
Down town he did go where he trod on the toe
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.

“Young man,” said Bulbul, “Has life grown so dull
That you’re anxious to end your career?
Vile infidel! Know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer”

“So take your last look at sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Czar
By which I imply you are going to die
Mr Ivan Skavinski Skivar.”

Said Ivan “My friend, your remarks in the end
Will avail you but little I fear
For you ne’er will survive to repeat them alive
Mr Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.”

The Bulbul then drew out his trusty chibouque
With a cry of “Allah Akbar!”
And with murderous intent he ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

They fought all that night ‘neath the pale yellow moon
The din it was heard from afar
And great multitudes came so great was the fame
Of Abdul and Ivan Skivar.

As Abdul’s long knife was extracting the life
In fact, he was shouting “Huzzah”
He felt himself struck by that wily Kalmuck
Count Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

The Sultan drove by in his red creasted fly
Expecting the victor to cheer
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.

Car Petrovich, too, in his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car
He arrived just in time to exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

A splash in the Black Sea one dark Winter’s night
The ripples they spread wide and far
It came from a sack fitting close to the back
Of Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

There’s a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube roles
Engraved there in characters clear
“Oh stranger, when passing, please pray for the soul
Of Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.”

A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps
Neath the light of the pale Polar Star
And the name that she murmurs so oft as she weeps
Is Ivan Skavinski Skivar.

The sons of the prophet are hardy and bold
And quite unaccustomed to fear
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah
Was Abdulla Bulbul Ameer.

IVAN PETROFSKY SKEVAR

The sons of the Prophet are valiant and bold
and wholly impervious to fear,
But the bravest of all was a man by the name,
Of Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer.

If you wanted a man to encourage the van,
Or harass the foe from the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt, you had only to shout
for Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer.

This son of the desert in battle aroused
Could spit twenty men on his spear,
A terrible creature, sober or soused,
Was Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer

There are brave men in plenty, and well known to fame,
in the army that's run by the Czar,
But the bravest of all was a man by the name
of Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

He could imitate Irving, tell fortunes by cards,
And play on the Spanish guitar,
In fact quite the cream of the Muscovite team
was Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

The ladies all loved him, his rivals were few,
He could drink them all under the bar.
As gallant or tank there was no one to rank,
With Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

One day that bold Russian, he shouldered his gun
and with his most cynical sneer,
Was going down town, when he came right upon
Brave Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer.

"Young man," said Boul Boul, "is existence so dull
That you hanker to end your career?
For infidel know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer.

So take your last look upon sky, sea, brook
And send your regrets to the Czar
For by this I imply, you are going to die,
O you Ivan Petrofsky Skevar."

"But your murderous threats are to me but a joke,
For my pleasure and pastime is war
And I'll tread on your toes whene'er I may choose,"
Quoth Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

Then that brave Mameluke drew his trusty chabook,
Singing, "Allah! Il Allah! Akbar!"
And with murder intent he ferociously went
at Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

But the Russian gave back not a step at th' attack,
For Ivan had never known fear,
And with quickly aimed gun, put a stop to the fun,
Of Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer

Yet the whistling chabook did like lighning descend,
And caught Ivan right over the ear.
But the bayonet of Ivan pressed right through the heart
Of Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer.

The Russian commander spurred thither in haste,
To seek fo his favorite Hussar.
Lo, pierced through the snoot from the fatal chabook,
Lay Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

The sultan rode up the distrubance to quell,
Or to give to the victor a cheer,
But he arrived just in time to take hasty farewell
Of Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer

Then Gotchikoff, Skabeloff, Menchikoff too,
Drove up in the Emperor's car,
But only in time to bid rapid adieu
To Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

There lieth a stone where the Danube doth roll,
And on it in characters clear,
Is, "Stranger, remember to pray for the soul
Of Abdulah Boul Boul Ameer."

A Muscovite maiden her sad vigil keeps,
In her home by the cold northern star,
And the name that she murmurs so oft in her sleep,
is Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.