Boldero. Yes. There you have it in a nutshell. I tell you what it is, we shall have to exclude all critics from our show in future.
Tiffington. Ah! that would punish them—and serve them right, too. Are you going to sing to-night, Hall?
Hall (with a sigh of resignation). I suppose I shall have to. I told Batterdown I should be ready, if wanted.
Jarp. Have you got anything new?
Hall. Rather. Something particularly neat, I think. I call it "The Super at Supper." It goes like this:—
[Hums to his friends, who listen with rapt attention, occasionally interchanging glances expressive of enthusiastic admiration.
I once knew a Super, a festive soul,
Who quaffed champagne from a brimming bowl,
And all night long as he quaffed he sang,
"The Dukes may swing, and the Earls go hang,
And the Duchesses, 'drat 'em, may go and be blowed;
They've all been there, and they know the road—
They're slaves, but the Super who sups is free—
Oh! the Super's life is the life for me!
Chorus.
With a hey-diddle-diddle and fiddle-di-dee,
Oh! the supping Super's the man for me!"
Spinks, Boldero, Gushby, Jarp (with enthusiasm). My dear fellow, that's immense.