American singer Frank Crumit loved singing Abdul Abdulbul Amir for music hall audiences in the 1930s.
Crumit was also a talented songwriter and produced three sequels to the original Abdul, which was written by Percy French in 1877. Crumit’s sequels were The Return of Abdul Abulbul Amir, The Grandson Of Abdul Abulbul Amir, and Minnie Skavinsky Skavar.
In the Grandson of Abdul Abulbul Amir, the grandsons of the two famous dualists don’t fight with swords and knives. Instead, they take the absurdity to yet another level by trying to settle their differences with a game of golf.
Like their famous ancestors, however, they manage to cancel each other out.
Bobby Jones and Frank Howmet, who are mentioned in the song, were two of the world’s best golfers in the 1930s.
From a land that was distant and far,
And his visiting card bore the name of this bard –
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
Said the Count to Abdul, “Our grandfathers fought
At that war,” and his face bore a sneer.
“Well I don’t know the cause, but my grandfather whipped yours.”
Said Abdul Abulbul Amir.
“Oh you think you’re a golfer, Mr Abdul Amir?
You think you’re a promising star?
Well if you play at this sport like your grandfather fought,
Lord help you,” said Ivan Skavar.
“Oh you’re no Bobby Jones or Frankie Howmet –
Why you hold your iron like a spear.
You’re a count, without doubt, but count yourself out,
In golfing,” said Abdul Amir.
They were matched now, you know, for an eighteen-hole go
The prize was a brass samovar.
As they strode to the tee, they were wondrous to see,
Mr Abdul and Ivan Skavar.
They were evenly matched – you could tell by their shots
They made the first ten holes in par.
He lived up to his name in this breath-taking game
Did Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
On the fifteenth hole Ivan a bunker he struck
He was stroking his way to the clear
“How may strokes did you take; were you killing a snake?”
Yelled Abdul Abulbul Amir.
Ivan turned each hip, then felt something slip
“My braces have parted, I fear.”
To the sand-trap he flew, while they took in the view
Even Abdul Abulbul Amir.
And so much did he laugh, that he doubled in half;
In doubling himself, poor Amir
Collapsed and alack, he sprained his poor back
Did Abdul Abulbul Amir.
Oh the boys never ended their classical match
For neither could finish their score.
Though they ended the game, we can’t tell you his name
But the referee called it a draw.
Oh the bunkers that lie on the fairways at night
Do call to all who can hear
And this old family feud shall oft be renewed
By the grandson of Abdul Amir.