Drink her down!
This was kept up indefinitely, for Fleet would improvise rhymes for his three lines as long as the boys cared to sing. These rhymes were not always sensible, but were often very funny, and it was in the hope that he would sing the funny ones, that the boys encouraged him.
After the “Winton” song, the boys drifted off into “Old Folks At Home,” “Old Black Joe,” “Nellie Gray,” and several other old melodies, and when the last note had died away over the lake, there was a pause. Then from Fleet:
Jim-uh Jackson was a great-uh big-uh fat coon!
He-uh didn’t want nothin’ but a chunk of the moon;
He-uh——
Here the others broke in, and forced him to desist. Fleet’s craze for “coon” songs was a sore spot with them. Not to be outdone now, however, Fleet went off into:
By the old mill stream I’m waiting,
Rosie, dear-r-r-r-r!
Fleet held the last note as long as possible, and the boys waited patiently until he had finished.
“Fleet’s a fine singer of illustrated songs,” said Chot. “He’s missed his vocation. Instead of going to school, he should be at work in a moving picture theatre.”
“Aw, cut that out!” growled Fleet. “I never sing a pretty ballad but what you tell me that.”
“It’s because we’re trying to rid you of your depraved taste for silly songs,” said Tom.