“More! More!” came from every corner.
The social worker slid a microphone before the singer. Bending over, a smile on her lips, Cherry once more whispered a title. Then, lifting her voice high, she cried: “Roll out the Barrel! Everybody sing! Let’s make it ring!”
Everybody did sing,—more people than Cherry will ever know, for through the microphone that had been placed before her, Cherry was at last singing on the radio. From end to end of England the song boomed on: “Roll out the Barrel.”
Every platform in the subway had its radio. Station by station they joined in until the whole tube, miles on end, echoed with the song.
“Roll out the barrel! We’ll have a barrel of fun
Roll out the barrel! We’ll put the blues on the run.”
It seemed to Dave as he listened after that song was over, that even the Führer must have heard the applause that followed, heard and shuddered.
Dropping into a mellow mood for the oldsters who recalled that other terrible war, Cherry sang:
“There’s a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,