The singing of the Romany girls was very seductive; whether this was due to the witchery of their glances, their winning manner, or the peculiar, weird style of singing, I have not been able to determine; as a rule, their voices are good, they sing in tune, and usually are unaccompanied by any instrument.
I am not able to call to mind the titles of all the songs of the evening, but the following were favourites:—
“Home is home.”
“When the fields are white with daisies.”
“Put my little shoes away.”
“I’ve been lonely since my mother died.”
One small boy announced the title of a poem he was going to recite, but when mounted upon the box in front of the audience he commenced with something of so different a nature that the management decided hastily he had better step down and the audience would forego the remainder, which, I learned subsequently, was worse than the verse we heard. The next boy, however, gave us a treat, for he had the voice of a seraph and sang well,—indeed, I often heard the boy in the hop fields and could generally track him down by his voice. Some of the “home-dwellers” also contributed to the evening’s entertainment, one of them being good enough to bring a gramophone. At last “God save the King” was sung, and we prepared to depart to our respective vans and tents.
Some of the audience had come from another camp at a little distance, and as the night was very dark some one voiced their desire for a lantern. Fortunately, I was able to procure an oil torch designed for outdoor use, so with this flaming merrily, I led the way at the head of a band of Romanies. We were a merry party and a good deal of jesting was indulged in.
Before separating, and while we were in a lane with a steep bank on each side, some one suggested the Romany dance and the hint was at once acted upon.
It would seem that from earliest times these people have numbered amongst them many excellent dancers and singers, and what I now witnessed demonstrated beyond doubt that their love of song and the dance is as strong to-day as in the past.