But she comes up to scratch,
My pretty young lidee,
Tiritidi—ralla—la—la!”
Julie. I know our people, and I like them—just in the same way that they like me. Just let them come, then you’ll see.
John. No, Miss Julie. The folks don’t love you. They eat your bread, but they make fun of you behind your back. You take it from me. Listen, just listen, to what they’re singing. No, you’d better not listen.
Julie.[Listens.] What are they singing?
John. It’s some nasty lines about you and me.
Julie. Horrible! Ugh, what sneaks they are!
John. The riff-raff is always cowardly, and in the fight it’s best to fly.
Julie. Fly? But where to? We can’t go out, and we can’t go up to Christine’s room either.