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Songs of a Savoyard

by W. S. Gilbert

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Blue Blood

Spurn not the nobly born
      With love affected,
Nor treat with virtuous scorn
      The well connected.
High rank involves no shame—
We boast an equal claim
With him of humble name
      To be respected!
Blue blood! Blue blood!
When virtuous love is sought,
Thy power is naught,
Though dating from the Flood,
Blue blood!

Spare us the bitter pain
      Of stern denials,
Nor with low-born disdain
      Augment our trials.
Hearts just as pure and fair
May beat in Belgrave Square
As in the lowly air
      Of Seven Dials!
Blue blood! Blue blood!
Of what avail art thou
To serve me now?
Though dating from the Flood,
Blue blood!

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