“Hussh!” interrupted the presiding lady. “Father Daly is going to sing.”
And the parish priest, who was a general favourite, emerged from the curtain, and gave them “Killarney” in a fine mellow voice, which was clapped to the echo by his parishioners. After a violin solo, and another glee, and a duet on the grand piano (Irish melodies and fireworks), there was a considerable delay. The lamp in the black hole had gone out, and an embarrassing collision occurred between coming and going performers. Then Ulick Doran stepped up on the platform; on this occasion carrying a much-beribboned guitar. He fetched a chair forward, sat down, deliberately tuned up the instrument, struck one or two rich chords, and then broke into “Torear por lo fino” (“The song of the Spanish bull-fighter”).
“El tipo mas flamena que hayen
Espa-ña.”
he sang—
“Es este cuerpecito con tanta
Gra-cia.
Con tanta gracia y este cuerpecito
Y este cuerpecito, Salero!
Con tanta gracia.