“The Alabama she cruised out along the Frenchman’s shore!
Long time she cruised about, long time she held her sway,
But now beneath the Frenchman’s shore she lies in Sheer-bug Bay.”
“Chorus!” shouted Herc, and they swung into it with a vim that made the walls of the houses on each side of the street vibrate.
“Hoist up the flag, boys,
Long may she wave!
God bless America,
The home of the brave!”
Old Harness Cask had about forty verses for his favorite song, and the procession marched about the town till they were all finished. Then the return to the bazaar began. For some reason, as they entered its precincts Herc’s donkey was seized with a sudden fit of balking. It braced all four legs together and refused to move. Herc prodded and kicked, but all in vain.
“Twist his tail!” shouted a sailor, and half a dozen hands proceeded to do so.