"Now give it to the Major!" And the song went
on:--
"There's Major Blowney leads the van,
As crack a shot as an Irishman,--
For its the duck is a tin decoy
That his owld shotgun can't destroy!"
And a half a dozen jubilant palms patted the Major's shoulders, and
his ruddy, good-natured face beamed with delight. "Now give it to the
rest of 'em, Tommy!" chuckled the Major. And the song continued:--
"And along wid 'Hank' is Mick Maharr,
And Barney Pince, at 'The Shamrock' bar--
There's Barney Pinch, wid his heart so true;
And the Andrews Brothers they'll go too."
"Hold on, Tommy!" chipped in one of the Andrews; "you must give 'the
Andrews Brothers' a better advertisement than that! Turn us on a full
verse, can't you?"
"Make 'em pay for it if you do!" said the Major, in an undertone. And
Tommy promptly amended:--
"O, the Andrews Brothers, they'll be there,
Wid good se-gyars and wine to shpare,--
They'll treat us here on fine champagne,
And whin we're there they 'll treat us again."
The applause here was vociferous, and only discontinued when a box of
Havanas stood open on the table. During the momentary lull thus
occasioned, I caught the Major's twinkling eyes glancing evasively
toward me, as he leant whispering some further instructions to Tommy,
who again took up his desultory ballad, while I turned and fled for
the street, catching, however, as I went, and high above the laughter
of the crowd, the satire of this quatrain to its latest line--
"But R-R-Riley he 'll not go, I guess,
Lest he'd get lost in the wil-der-ness,
And so in the city he will shtop
For to curl his hair in the barber shop.
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