What a place is the Hotel Fantastic,
With charges both high and elastic.
A sight for the gods, and resplendent with beauty,
If you've got the money, to stay there's a duty;
A better place you couldn't hit on,
There are nice chairs and sofas to sit on,
Something to please nearly everyone's wishes,
The joints are invariably served up on dishes
The bedsteads from Waring and Gillow's,
Bolsters and nice feather pillows,
The cost of the upkeep is simply enormous,
In Winter they give us a nice fire to warm us,
It's the best furnished hotel that I know,
Superior carpets and lino, pictures and mirrors all painting
and gilding,
Are found from the floor to the roof of the building.
And people with titles
(High sounding recitals)
Put up at the place to replenish their vitals,
Rich butchers and bakers,
And candlestick makers,
Are proud to go there, – there are grounds of ten acres.
It is said that, one day, a man entered,
All looks were, at once, on him centered,
A mass of importance the people there found him,
The Staff, with the Manager, flocked all around him,
He was treated with greatest of deference,
And not even asked for a reference,
Petted and courted in every detail,
And tips were expected on quite a big scale –
The same day another newcomer,
(Mistaken, at first, for the plumber)
Entered the building in manner most gracious,
Quiet and shabby, and unostentatious,
The welcome he met with was chilly,
Which he had to accept, willy–nilly,
Of fuss and attention the Staff offered neither,
Didn't know who he was, and they didn't care either.
It happened this couple who'd come there to stay,
Took their departure the very same day,
Then it turned out the first that they'd welcomed, oh dear,
Was only a vulgar and rich profiteer,
Whilst the other was really a noble character,
A great man of science – a world benefactor,
Who put the swell profiteer quite in eclipse,
By giving the servants there much bigger tips.
If you're doubting the truth of this tale
Put up at the Hotel Fantastic,
To question the Staff do not fail,
Although they are somewhat bombastic
The story they p'raps will deny,
These servants are often high–flyers,
They are, though I couldn't tell why,
But it's written that "All men are liars."
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