In honor of the birthday of Sir Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900), the musical half of the comic opera team Gilbert and Sullivan, here is a performance of their second most-parodied song.
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list, I’ve got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed, they never would be missed.
There’s weightlifters and bodybuilders, people of that sort;
Bank robbers who retire to Spain the minute they get caught;
Bishops who don’t believe in God, chief constables who do;
All people who host chat shows and the guests what’s on ’em too;
And customs men who fumbling through your underwear insist
I don’t think they’d be missed, I’m sure they’d not be missed.
He’s got them on the list, he’s got them on the list
And they’d none of them be missed, they’d none of them be missed.
There’s the people with pretentious names like Justin, Trish, and Rob;
And the gynecologist, I’ve got him on the list;
All muggers, joggers, buggers, floggers, people who play golf;
They never would be missed, they never would be missed.
All waitresses who make you wait, accountants of all kinds,
And actresses who kiss and tell and wiggle their behinds,
And poncy little singers who to entertain us try
By dressing up like women and by singing far too high,
And who on close observance must be either stoned or pissed;
I don’t think they’d be missed, I’m sure they’d not be missed.
He’s got them on the list, he’s got them on the list,
And they’d none of them be missed, they’d none of them be missed.
There’s the beggars who write letters from the inland revenue,
And the gossip columnist, I’ve got him on the list;
All critics and comedians and opera singers too;
They’d none of them be missed, they’d none of them be missed.
All traffic wardens, bankers, men who sell Venetian blinds,
All advertising chappies, and Australians of all kinds,
And nasty little editors whose papers are the pits
Who fill their rags with gossip and with huge and floppy… writs,
And girls who sell the stories of the Tories they have kissed,
But you must have got the gist, ’cause none of them be missed.
You may put them on the list, you may put them on the list
And they’d none of them be missed, they’d none of them be missed.
Posted by bluebird of bitterness 
bluebird of bitterness 