ACT 2
Scene 1
Scene: A Dream of Lionel-Land
The stage is dark. A soft spotlight appears on Alma, sitting at her dressing room mirror, looking tired. She hums softly, then drifts off to sleep. The lights shift, and the stage transforms into a whimsical, colourful dreamscape—Lionel-Land!
Lionel Bart enters, dressed in a flamboyant suit, leading a lively ensemble of dancers and musicians. They perform “I WISH I WAS IN LIONEL-[LAND” with Alma joining in, her spirits lifted by the fantasy.
Alma: (singing)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray! Where the nights are bright and the skies are gay! Hooray!
“I Wish I Was in Lionel-Land”
(In the style of Lionel Bart – to the air of I Wish I Was In Dixie- Land)
(Verse 1)
Oh, I’ve seen the lights of London town,
Where the rain falls down and the world spins ‘round.
But I dream of a place, oh, so grand,
Where the streets are paved with melody, in Lionel-Land!
(Chorus)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!
Where the trumpets play and the dancers sway.
With a song in my heart and a skip in my hand,
I’d be oh so happy in Lionel-Land!
(Verse 2)
There’s a pub on the corner, the tunes never end,
With a piano man and a jolly old friend.
We’ll sing “Consider Yourself” with the band,
And the whole world’s a stage in Lionel-Land!
(Chorus)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!
Where the nights are bright and the skies are gay.
With a wink and a nod, and a jolly good band,
I’d be oh so merry in Lionel-Land!
(Bridge)
Oh, the rivers would flow with a musical stream,
And the stars would all dance to a ragtime dream.
Every cobblestone hums, every lamppost can sing,
In the land where the melodies ring!
(Verse 3)
So I’ll pack up my troubles, my hat, and my cane,
And I’ll hop on a train to that sweet refrain.
For the world’s full of wonder, but I understand,
That my heart belongs in Lionel-Land!
(Final Chorus)
I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!
Where the music’s grand and the laughs never end.
With a song in my soul and a smile so grand,
I’ll be oh so happy in Lionel-Land!
(Outro)
Oh, Lionel-Land, my sweet, sweet home,
Where the melodies wander and the stories roam.
With a tune in my pocket and a dream in my hand,
I’ll be forever in Lionel-Land!
The song ends with a flourish, and the dream fades. Alma wakes up, back in her dressing room, smiling wistfully.
Later, in Lionel’s flat. Lionel at the piano trying to compose. Alma helps.
ALMA: I had a dream last night. Well, in my dressing room. I nodded off for a little while, and I remember you were singing a song you had just written. It was called ‘I wish I was in Lionel-Land’ or something like that. It sounded like the air to ‘I wish I was in Dixie’, but the words were different. Then I woke up.
Lionel laughs then plays a few notes and sings.
LIONEL: I know that tune. It’s an old American Civil War song. I think someone recorded it recently. (sings a few bars). ‘I wish I was in Dixie/ Look away, look away/ In dixie land I will make my stand. Look away… something like that. Do you remember the words from last night?
John enters with some drinks etc
ALMA:
Ha! I was dreaming! (pause/sings) I think the chorus went something like this; I wish I was in Lionel-Land, hooray! Hooray!/ Where the nights are bright and the skies are gay! Hooray!
LIONEL: Hmmm. It might have possibilities. Maybe I will work on something later on. (to John, taking a drink) I wrote a new song last night – apparently
JOHN: In your dreams!
ALMA: No. In my dreams. (smiles) Oh, don’t ask, John (to Lionel) I think it has your whimsical style Li; full of charm…with a touch of nostalgia.
LIONEL: Oh, I’m nostalgic now , am I! All my songs are merry, I’ll have you know.
AMMA: You sound like Sean Kenny now. I remember him saying once ‘All our wars are merry, and all our songs are sad’. Or was it the other way round?
LIONEL: Yeah, well, Sean’s Irish, so he should know. ‘for the great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad/ all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad’. Chesterton.
JOHN: Hark at him! A poet and we don’t know it!
LIONEL: As Sean himself might say, ‘If I didn’t go to school itself, I met the scholars’ on the way home’
JOHN: Yeah that sounds like Sean. Full of Blarney! A bit like yourself, come to think of it! You’ll be telling me next you read Chesterton at school!
LIONEL: All I read at school was the Dandy. Desperate Dan and Korky the Cat were my introduction to literature. As for Chesterton, I sometimes found that the poets of the past were often good for tuning up my own lyrics.
JOHN: You mean you nicked some of their words!
LIONEL: Why not? Everyone does it, in my view. There’s nothing new under the sun. I bet even Shakespeare did it!
JOHN: Comparing yourself to Shakespeare now eh! (to Alma) What do you think Alma
LIONEL: Hah! I’m more popular than Shakespeare ever was in his day. I bet he didn’t have two plays running at the same time in the West End. Both playing to full houses every night!
ALMA: Don’t get too cocky Li. You know the old saying? The bigger they are, the harder they fall. What’s next on your agenda?
LIONEL: Oh, I have got big plans for the next three or four years. First will be Blitz, then Maggie May, and then my piece de resistance – Twang.
JOHN: And what’s going to pay for all this extravagance?
LIONEL: Well, Oliver’s doing well isn’t it? And it’s only got started. They say it will run for years.
JOHN: Do you remember what Noel Coward said to you a little while ago. ‘Dear boy, never put your own money in any of your own plays’
LIONEL: Ah! Coward. What does he know? He’s a has-been – and has been for the last twenty years or more. Come on, Let’s celebrate.
Drinking, laughing, singing, dancing etc (Lionel slyly swallow s couple of tablets on the qt) They sing/play a couple of songs from Blitz & Maggie May
CONSIDER YOURSELF
(From Oliver!, music and lyrics by Lionel Bart)
Consider yourself at home,
Consider yourself one of the family.
We’ve taken to you so strong,
It’s clear we’re going to get along.
Consider yourself well in,
Consider yourself part of the furniture.
There isn’t a lot to spare,
Who cares? Whatever we’ve got, we share!
Chorus:
If it should chance to be
We should see some harder days,
Empty larder days,
Why grouse? Always a-chance we’ll meet
Somebody to foot the bill,
Then the drinks are on the house!
Chorus:
Consider yourself our mate,
We don’t want to have no fuss,
For after some consideration,
We can consider…
Yourself one of us!
Consider yourself at home,
Consider yourself one of the family.
We’ve taken to you so strong,
It’s clear we’re going to get along.
Consider yourself our friend,
Consider this a ’and up, if you please, sir!
We’re very ’appy to give
You our ’umble company.
We’re ’appy to ’ave with us
Cheerfulness, charm and innocence,
All the ingredients
For ’appiness.
We now hear the sounds of guns and bombs, people screaming etc And the voice of Winston Churchill on radio;
WC: (voice)
I would say to the House… that I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: it is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: it is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.
Lights change and they sing the song MAGGIE MAY, from the musical of the same name.
MAGGIE MAE
ow gather round you sailor boys, and listen to my plea And when you’ve heard my tale you’ll pity me For I was a real damned fool in the port of Liverpool The first time that I came home from the sea I was paid off at the Home, from a voyage to Sierra Leone Two pounds ten and sixpence was my pay When I drew the tin I grinned, but I very soon got skinned By a girl by the name of Maggie May
Oh, Maggie, Maggie May, they’ve taken you away They’ve sent you to Van Diemen’s cruel shore For you robbed so many a sailor, and skinned so many a whaler And you’ll never shine in Paradise Street no more
I shan’t forget the day when I first met Maggie May She was cruising up and down on Canning Place With a figure so divine, like a frigate of the line So, being a sailor, I gave chase Oh, Maggie, Maggie May, they’ve taken you away They’ve sent you to Van Diemen’s cruel shore For you robbed so many a sailor, and skinned so many a whaler
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