Then came the chorus--
"We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors, We'll rant and
we'll roar across the salt seas, Until we take soundings in the Channel
of Old England From Ushant to Scilly 'tis forty-five leagues.
"We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors, We'll rant and
we'll roar across the salt seas, Until we take soundings in the Channel
of Old England From Ushant to Scilly 'tis forty-five leagues.
Kipling - Poems
"The Nilghai only comes
when I'm out. "
"That's because you're always out. Howl, Nilghai, and let him hear. "
"The life of the Nilghai is fraud and slaughter, His writings are
watered Dickens and water; But the voice of the Nilghai raised on high
Makes even the Mahdieh glad to die! "
Dick quoted from Torpenhow's letterpress in the Nungapunga Book.
"How do they call moose in Canada, Nilghai? "
The man laughed. Singing was his one polite accomplishment, as many
Press-tents in far-off lands had known.
"What shall I sing? " said he, turning in the chair.
"'Moll Roe in the Morning,'" said Torpenhow, at a venture.
"No," said Dick, sharply, and the Nilghai opened his eyes. The old
chanty whereof he, among a very few, possessed all the words was not
a pretty one, but Dick had heard it many times before without wincing.
Without prelude he launched into that stately tune that calls together
and troubles the hearts of the gipsies of the sea--
"Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies, Farewell and adieu to you,
ladies of Spain. "
Dick turned uneasily on the sofa, for he could hear the bows of the
Barralong crashing into the green seas on her way to the Southern Cross.
Then came the chorus--
"We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors, We'll rant and
we'll roar across the salt seas, Until we take soundings in the Channel
of Old England From Ushant to Scilly 'tis forty-five leagues. "
"Thirty-five-thirty-five," said Dick, petulantly. "Don't tamper with
Holy Writ. Go on, Nilghai. "
"The first land we made it was called the Deadman," and they sang to the
end very vigourously.
"That would be a better song if her head were turned the other way--to
the Ushant light, for instance," said the Nilghai.
"Flinging his arms about like a mad windmill," said Torpenhow. "Give us
something else, Nilghai. You're in fine fog-horn form tonight. "
"Give us the 'Ganges Pilot'; you sang that in the square the night
before El-Maghrib. By the way, I wonder how many of the chorus are alive
tonight," said Dick.
Torpenhow considered for a minute. "By Jove! I believe only you and I.
Raynor, Vicery, and Deenes--all dead; Vincent caught smallpox in Cairo,
carried it here and died of it. Yes, only you and I and the Nilghai.
when I'm out. "
"That's because you're always out. Howl, Nilghai, and let him hear. "
"The life of the Nilghai is fraud and slaughter, His writings are
watered Dickens and water; But the voice of the Nilghai raised on high
Makes even the Mahdieh glad to die! "
Dick quoted from Torpenhow's letterpress in the Nungapunga Book.
"How do they call moose in Canada, Nilghai? "
The man laughed. Singing was his one polite accomplishment, as many
Press-tents in far-off lands had known.
"What shall I sing? " said he, turning in the chair.
"'Moll Roe in the Morning,'" said Torpenhow, at a venture.
"No," said Dick, sharply, and the Nilghai opened his eyes. The old
chanty whereof he, among a very few, possessed all the words was not
a pretty one, but Dick had heard it many times before without wincing.
Without prelude he launched into that stately tune that calls together
and troubles the hearts of the gipsies of the sea--
"Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies, Farewell and adieu to you,
ladies of Spain. "
Dick turned uneasily on the sofa, for he could hear the bows of the
Barralong crashing into the green seas on her way to the Southern Cross.
Then came the chorus--
"We'll rant and we'll roar like true British sailors, We'll rant and
we'll roar across the salt seas, Until we take soundings in the Channel
of Old England From Ushant to Scilly 'tis forty-five leagues. "
"Thirty-five-thirty-five," said Dick, petulantly. "Don't tamper with
Holy Writ. Go on, Nilghai. "
"The first land we made it was called the Deadman," and they sang to the
end very vigourously.
"That would be a better song if her head were turned the other way--to
the Ushant light, for instance," said the Nilghai.
"Flinging his arms about like a mad windmill," said Torpenhow. "Give us
something else, Nilghai. You're in fine fog-horn form tonight. "
"Give us the 'Ganges Pilot'; you sang that in the square the night
before El-Maghrib. By the way, I wonder how many of the chorus are alive
tonight," said Dick.
Torpenhow considered for a minute. "By Jove! I believe only you and I.
Raynor, Vicery, and Deenes--all dead; Vincent caught smallpox in Cairo,
carried it here and died of it. Yes, only you and I and the Nilghai.
