The Semi-drunk’s suggestion that someone should sing a song was received with unqualified approbation by everybody, including Barrington and the other Socialists, who desired nothing better than that the time should be passed in a manner suitable to the occasion. The landlord’s daughter, a rosy girl of about twenty years of age, in a pink print dress, sat down at the piano, and the Semi-drunk, taking his place at the side of the instrument and facing the audience, sang the first song with appropriate gestures, the chorus being rendered enthusiastically by the full strength of the company, including Misery, who by this time was slightly drunk from drinking gin and ginger beer:
“Come, come, come an’ ’ave a drink with me
Down by the ole Bull and Bush.
Come, come, come an’ shake ’ands with me
Down by the ole Bull and Bush.
Wot cheer me little Germin band!
Fol the diddle di do!
Come an’ take ’old of me ’and
Come, come, come an’ ’ave a drink with me,
Down by the old Bull and Bush,
Bush! Bush!”
Protracted knocking on the tables greeted the end of the song, but as the Semi-drunk knew no other except odd verses and choruses, he called upon Crass for the next, and that gentleman accordingly sang “Work, Boys, Work” to the tune of “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching”. As this song is the Marseillaise of the Tariff Reform Party, voicing as it does the highest ideals of the Tory workmen of this country, it was an unqualified success, for most of them were Conservatives.
“Now I’m not a wealthy man,
But I lives upon a plan
Wot will render me as ’appy as a King;
An’ if you will allow, I’ll sing it to you now,
For time you know is always on the wing.
Work, boys, work and be contented
So long as you’ve enough to buy a meal.
For if you will but try, you’ll be wealthy—bye and bye—
If you’ll only put yer shoulder to the wheel.”
“Altogether, boys,” shouted Grinder, who was a strong Tariff Reformer, and was delighted to see that most of the men were of the same way of thinking; and the “boys” roared out the chorus once more:
Work, boys, work and be contented
So long as you’ve enough to buy a meal
For if you will but try, you’ll be wealthy—bye and bye
If you’ll only put your shoulder to the wheel.
As they sang the words of this noble chorus the Tories seemed to become inspired with lofty enthusiasm. It is of course impossible to say for certain, but probably as they sang there arose before their exalted imaginations, a vision of the Past, and looking down the long vista of the years that were gone, they saw that from their childhood they had been years of poverty and joyless toil. They saw their fathers and mothers, weaned and broken with privation and excessive labour, sinking unhonoured into the welcome oblivion of the grave.
And then, as a change came over the spirit of their dream, they saw the Future, with their own children travelling along the same weary road to the same kind of goal.
It is possible that visions of this character were conjured up in their minds by the singing, for the words of the song gave expression to their ideal of what human life should be. That was all they wanted—to be allowed to work like brutes for the benefit of other people. They did not want to be civilized themselves and they intended to take good care that the children they had brought into the world should never enjoy the benefits of civilization either. As they often said: