"C'est dans la ville de Bordeaux
Qu'est arrivé trois beaux vaissaux—
Qu'est arrivé trois beaux vaissaux:
Les matelots qui sont dedans,
Vrai Dieu, sont de jolis galants."
"C'est dans la ville de Bordeaux
Qu'est arrivé trois beaux vaissaux—
Qu'est arrivé trois beaux vaissaux:
Les matelots qui sont dedans,
Vrai Dieu, sont de jolis galants."
The man had a rich baritone voice, not comparable indeed with the bowman's tenor, yet not without quality; but he used it affectedly, and sang with a simper on his face. His face, brick red in hue, was handsome in its florid way; but John, watching the simper, found it detestable.
"C'est une dame de Bordeaux
Qu'est amoureuse d'un matelot—"
"C'est une dame de Bordeaux
Qu'est amoureuse d'un matelot—"
Here he paused, and a few soldiers took up the refrain half-heartedly:
"—Va, ma servante, va moi chercher
Un matelot pour m'amuser."
"—Va, ma servante, va moi chercher
Un matelot pour m'amuser."
The song from this point became indecent, and set the men in the nearer boats laughing. At its close a few clapped their hands. But it was not a success, and the brick red darkened on the singer's face; darkened almost to purple when a voice in the distance took up the air and returned it mockingly, caricaturing a roulade to the life with the help of one or two ridiculous gracenotes: at which the soldiers laughed again.
"I think, m'sieur," suggested the bowman politely, "they do not know it very well, or they would doubtless have been heartier."