TOMMY ATKINS EXPLAINS WHY “IT’S A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY”
Scene: A street in a French town. Enter Thomas Atkins, singing; he meets Jean Pioupiou.
T. A.—“‘It’s a long, long way to Tipperary, it’s—’ Halloa, cocky—how goes it?” (Holds out his hand, genially.)
J. P.—“Ah, mon cher ami! ‘For eeze a zholi good fellow,’ nest-ce-pas?” (Attempts to embrace his new friend.)
T. A.—“Whoa, mare—steady on! You make me blush, old sport—it’s not the thing where we come from. Kiss the girls—not half! But the men—not in these!”
J. P.—“You come from Teeperary—a long, long way, peut-être?”
T. A.—“Me? Never was there in the whole course of my natural, cher ami, see voo play, mong cher frère. What price my parley-vooing, eh?”
J. P.—“Charmant—charmant! Vous parlerez bientôt—”
T. A.—“Cut it, old dear; I like you—you’re hot stuff; but your queer langwidge is a bit too thick. Have a fag? No offense.”
J. P.—“Merci bien, m’sieu. Mais dites-moi—tiens! Tell me, eef you please, where is zis Teeperary, and why you sing always of it such a ’long, long way?’ Ees it that you all come from there?”
T. A.-“Well, I never met anybody yet who’d been there, but I’ll tell you one thing—promise you won’t let on?”
J. P.—“‘Let on?’ Pardon—I do not—”
T. A.—“You won’t tell anyone?”
J. P.—“Ah, non, non—pas un mot!”
T. A.—(Whispers hoarsely) “It’s in Ireland.”
J. P. (Ecstatically) “Ah—Teeperary ees in Ireland! Eet is the Hymne National of les Irlandais sans doute; the—what do you say—the National Anthem of that country!”
T. A.—(Rather taken aback) “Well, not exactly a hymn, my son. You’re a long way off it yet.”
J. P.—“‘A long, long way’ off eet, hein? But why so very far to this place you sing of? And why do you celebrate it so loudly on your marching?”
T. A.—(Puzzled) “Blowed if I know. It’s a long way because—you see, you’d have to cross the Channel; then first on the left and straight on till you board the Irish packet; then—ask a policeman. See?”
J. P.—(Sadly) “Ah, oui, oui. Je ne comprends pas—mille regrets.”
T. A.—“You no comprenny, eh? Same here—left my geography home on the piano, else I’d put it clearer.” (An idea comes to him.) “You see, it’s like this: we take Tipperary as kind of representative—oh, very hot. Now I’m oratin’. Twig?”
J. P.—“Pardon?”
T. A.—(Very earnestly, explaining to himself as well as his friend) “Means lots of things, Tipperary—home, the girl, a square feed, plenty of ’baccy, and the old pals, you know; all signified by the word ‘Tipperary.’ Understand? We pack it up tight for convenience in transport, and when we sing it, it all comes out—the jolly things we’ve left behind. Got it?”
J. P.—(Smiling happily) “Ah, bien entendu—you ‘pack it’—ze Irish packet of which you have spoke, is it not?”
T. A.—(Groaning softly) “Oh, Lord! Cheese it, Frenchie—you make me perspire. What I mean is, when we sing ‘Tipperary’ it reminds us of all these things. And we like it. Makes us feel nice all over.”
J. P.—(Joyously) “Voilà—comme c’est bon—c’est symbolique, un coup de l’imagination, n’est-ce-pas?”
T. A.—(Catching the word) “That’s it—you’ve struck it; it sets our imagina-see-on to work. Also it’s a special swanky tune for marching to; makes you forget your poor feet. Like the tune, eh? Savvy? Tipperary—you ’preciate the air—le music, tray bong, nace-pah?”
J. P. (Beaming) “La musique—la mélodie—ah, oui, mais c’est—how do you say him?” (triumphantly): “Luv-lee!”
T. A.—(Enthusiastically) “Oh, good! Bong garsong! You cottoned on beautifully that time, anyhow.”
J. P.—“Comment?”
T. A.-“Come on? Where? Oh, I see—one of your words. Well?”
J. P.—“But, tell me, eet is how long—how far—to Teeperary?”
T. A.—(Desperately) “Now look here, old dear; I’ve had enough of this. You take it from me there’s some things you bally well can’t get the hang of, and this is one of ’em. Never mind; donny-moi one of those funny little black fags of yours and we’ll toddle to a caffy and drink to William the Conqueror—I don’t think. Come on!”
J. P.—“Comment?”
T. A.—“That’s what I said.” (Takes his arm and sings): “‘It’s a long—’”
J. P. (Joining in with huge glee as they go off) “‘—long way to Teeperary, eet’s a long, long way to go-o-o—’” (Exeunt.)