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Music of the Waters. 43 |
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give them a song, his comrades ask "if there be any chorus to it ? " " Ay, in course there is," is his reply. "Wot's a song without a chorus ? Wot's plum duff without the plums ? What's a ship without the helm ? It's my opinion, shipmates, that a song without a chorus is no better than it should be. It's wus nor nothin'! It puts them wot listens in the blues, an' the man wot sings into the stews— an' sarve him right. I wouldn't, no, I wouldn't give the fag end o' nothin mixed in a bucket o' salt water for a song without a chorus, that's flat; so here goes ! "
" Having delivered himself of these opinions in an extremely vigorous manner, and announced the fact that he was about to begin, Gurney cleared his throat and drew a number of violent puffs from his pipe in quick succession, in order to kindle that instrument into a glow which would last through the first verse and the commencement of the chorus. This he knew was sufficient, for the men, when once fairly started on the chorus, would infallibly go on to the end with or without his assistance, and would therefore afford him time for a few restorative whiffs.
"' It bain't got no name, lads.'
" ' Never mind, Gurney. All right, fire away.'
Solo.—Oh, I once know'd a man as hadn't got a nose, An' this is how he came to hadn't— One cold winter night he went and got it froze ; By the pain he was well nigh madden'd.
Chorus.—By the pain he was well nigh madden'd.
Solo.—Next day it swoll up as big as my head, An' tough as a junk of leather; (Ah ! he yelled, so he did, fit to pierce ye through), An' then it fell off altogether!
Chorus.—Fell off altogether,
An' then it fell off altogether.
Solo.—But the morial is wot you've now got to hear, An' it's good, as sure as a gun ; |
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