- For The Four-

He walks out on the stage. The glasses clink; some of the babble of the Grayline bus tour front tables slackens. The Albatross Club has been a part of the tour as long as anyone can remember. A wedding in back, their people still milling in. One of them makes some snide remark, and he let's this one have some yiddish. Never knew what hit him. Feathers ruffled, the wedding guest falls into an empty chair near the stage, as if to intimidate. A single spotlight makes the cheap Shure mic glisten on its silvered stand. He reaches into the linen jacket of his suit for the handkerchief. This club has no air conditioning; the high humidity reported on the afternoon TV weather for Miami made him think of canceling, but Wanda, his agent, had also started to shriek, again. So here he is: "Jack E. Reno, ladies and gentlemen..." One hand clapping, front row center.

and it goes something like..."
[*clinking glasses, crowd buzz, continue; bus boy sweats past front of stage*]

Bound with salty dogs from old Conrad's Routes
She bore up to the miser's gales
And our cabin boy from the Virgin Isles
Came aboard back among the whales.

Of a name we knew only part of it;
Though the cook said a word or two.
So his story goes, she war Mystery's Ship:
Brought back Maryland's E.A. Poe.

On a smiling sea of rum, you boys,
On a smiling sea of rum;
So the story goes,
Mary's E.A. Poe;
From his smiling sea of rum.

That first night drew on, I withdrew myself
To the hold full'o cocoa plants.
What had brung me there I could not well say,
And my friend kindyee pardon grant.

So I slipped down tight pas' the Cap'n's door
With 'is beard coming to his night zephyrs.
Then I turned around when I heard some sound
For it was - a sound - I'd hear'd!

There's a smiling sea O' rum, Art Blakey,
There's a smiling sea O' rum;
When I hear'd that sound
'Zif she'd run aground
In a smiling sea of rum.

There's a thing or form that was not the norm
And he stood there a ways'ward her lee
His two eyes took mine -- they'da made ya whine;
You'd just wet yerself, sartainly.

He says, 'Poe's the name, yo'can see I trust;
And a raven flew to his cane.
In t'other arm he held Pallas' bust
Upside down like he war insane.

And now, to his side, comes 'long Ulalume
Dressed as much like she'da robbed a grave,
Well the smell of brine couldn'a weigh that wif:
It was from the stench of her cave.

On a tumbling rumbling - seaships fumbling -
There's a tempest -- she's a'come...
Gad! her stiff neck veered,
And O! how she peered!
On that sea of happy rum.

Now his hand outstretched, and ee's holding out
The MS (was it withered and sere).
Parched mouds kissed it first, couldn'a miss that, 'burst! -
Ov'r their mouths were no coke leaf spared.

As the first mate on, I says 'what's this now?'
Yah'v gone bold with the Cap'ns fare!
Nither Poe nor she gave back look to me,
And the truth? I was two times scared.

Drink a smiling sea of rum, Yee bounders,
Buzzards all, have your spoiling rum!
Her eyes hypnotized;
Faith, they're double-sized!
Two red socket's: seas of rum.

Just now Skipper's dog comes to have a look;
Every mut has to have his waves.
No wags billowed from that ol' Scottie as
He sized lips smeared'a green-brown laaves.

And 'e yelped 'im once, then 'e tossed 'is lunch,
Would I ne'er have seen such a thing,
When A.'E. bent low wh'th manuscript -
And, poor dog, he knew naught but 'bring'.

All the smiling seas of rum, here Scottie!
'Tween 'er teeth weren't no bones she'd done!
I still rue the day,
Scratched me head n'sayd:
'For th' smilin' seas of rum!?'

It was blood they'd smeared into story weird
With a tooth from her for a crayon.
Mate took a stiffer spine than th'cider kind -
As it was I just set to prayin'

That the hand of All would come down that squall,
Mend those bloody words: Chaucer, Geoffrey.
But alone I stayed an' to fido read
'First few glyphys, they completely lost me.

O, the smiling seas of rum, read it mark yee,
Over smiling seas of rum.
Took me fifteen days
In the port side stays...
And the smiling seas did run.

[Musical interlude of flutes, hurdy-gurdy, tymbales, and booze box hands in percussion. -- the air is flavored by cidersalt, koupette cocoa oil, and cedar spice.]

{Regardant film performance note, visualization having switched from the club to the narrative action some time back: The musicians are leaving the focsle with good tenders of food and merriment made amidst the cook's praises for their "tune-jolly-mon-jammin'."}

There ware things in there that I'd best to tell but;    [ie. the MS]
Best lubbers keep-yee 'way from this, see?
You stay wih' the kids, and the Mrs.'s tids;
Likes'o'may'z'ladle d'savry grist.

{**Drum roll on baritone snare drum, snares loosened++}

[*sailors who have been swabbing decks nearby, now stand close behind me and sing-chant along grimly -- some striped half-stripped shirts, an eye patch; N.B.: there are, however, no romancey personals-lovey voyageurs here.] [Rrrrroll!!]

Tiz lyke ear sezz, with the dog and (o)'jug
And the thing, oh that horrible thing.
Them two 'goyles had got my attention mate
On the smiling seas O' rum.

No'un knew my ways as I left the stays;
Turned back down to the low-hewn olley;
If I'd tillered wise how
They a'mained thar tar Cap'n:
Friend that's a sartin ee'd'know it'd be folly

That there dog o'mine name O'Tristan fellows,
Followed home one night in Marseilles,
And afore I'd a even had fed the bounder
He'd begun to wag his tail.
See it'szat times like here right now you mar'ners,
That a man might say it is true,
That a pleasant reqcorseflexion of somewhurs - now - she's
A gwin-ah get you through.

Tristan knew his course was Bleeders, knew from the day we met;
Well a blouzy tart' Bwain-A-Zerry cou'struct-cha that's jawhy he made a'dieux.
[A moment, consider: cou'struct-cha, a polyformal]
See the sea ain't good for nuthin',
Save to get Yayhoos 'k'me outa Port,
And such things that blow to waitin
M'Laydee could put chest'air on Master Charles Fort!

Nope a good dog ain't no bum like sumyas
Anna Good Dog is more than his fun
You can dance with rats till they all wed cats
But a good dog knows 'iz run.

[Echo of roll below] On these duel'd blood red rums Mother, Sisters, Laydees
On yer blew crawlin' lines-glue-rum(;)
If yez hauntin' 'midships with-a laihks of sum
An' the skipper cain't find the gun
You can bet the brass, or'yer favorite lass, that you'll face the worst of Hades.
(Get a good dog -- who don't think too much o'rabies.) [ie., a tough dog,
a dog of the streets of Bwainnazeerry, Liverpool, Marseilles, Shanghai. Query:
is the "dog" real, or a structure within, or on, me? Explain which way "it" is
and why you think this way --WedB]

\* [Dirigent: Ulalume has four syllables, thus: You-la-LOOM-ee ] */ Old man Poe stood there 'n' Ulalume too it was if they wanted payin'.
On the old man's locket standin' droolin' Fullbright! - "Scholar say" they
jeh-might be prayin. But she looks'o him an' ee look'aimee an' they knew that
I had (yhesssSS ((!))) read it; And as sure as Mr. Gaygoard's stockin's
matchin' -- they knew too just how much I'd dread it.

She's the one we date and the one we hate (and the one that Poe scoriakkd!
-up with.) [obvious, however, is the metric jostling intentional? Please? -WedB]
She is always late, she is Watergate, she has problems not bean trouble.
She gets sick at sea, she is dead to me -- well, let's face it, dead's what
she is. She gets up to p then she turns to me and I have to q.r.s.t. - z test.

[*I shaking head; dog helping me worry, looks up at his master-me*] O'what smiling seas of rum dear Fate-ees;
From which smiling seas of rum
Did you find the type
Was it erudite?
To keep 'er long enough to mate her?
Then have zat'sa'fry [This is very advanced stuff here. It will cost you
five years and 200,000 to get this; so our email is...]
Other's too espy; whaaaaat(?)
Winko judges pay your weightly?

But yet he's no Fred March either Shakespeare
There now watch him crave me(!)
He has all the knack and he's taking back the MS
With one eye he could'a shaved me.

It is a cargo room that we've come to; soon
Tristan sits down on some cocoa.
They acosteth me with a practiced plea,
Demanding I brook their story.
It is not quite au' Rococo.

~~There's a castle in a clearing learing like a mouth that looks and
Hears you. I'm alone inside a gaseous tumbling bumbling grumbling
Grotto like above an escutcheon's motto
And a glove on a table moving -- blooming
As if someone once forgot to.
Putrid people come and sit, all around and spit
Up a bile-some liquid flavour.
Then the master and his towage join us "Sit."
A black box holds him with much found favor~~

[*thinking to avoid the contents of box = story*]
'Somewhere smiling Ceasar's rum is twinkling
Pleasant viztors te go and te come see?
But I rue the day P/U throttled maigh
That they made me stay
Cocoa bags'n array
Ida pled insane [if GentleReader would allow/stay = array = insa(ne)]
Ida fled me'brane
For a Hong Kong babe: Anna Bottle.

[*hears his shipmates up there somewhere singing very softly, the song
of, strongly desired at this point, but rare, Cocoa Coma*]
On the smiling seas of rum me maightees
On the smiling seas of rum
Arnold Shoenberg's here, he brought all his gear:
(Aw) Let's go play -- suck backwards all you lotto

No I hear the voice of the tree forois --
That's the one that you dasn't claim to.
And it says I must give all the mot juste
Well before I slake the blotto

[*refrain*]
On the smiling seas of rum me maightees
On the smiling seas of rum
Bela Bartok'as clear, he'll glad come ov'ere:
But he wants his share of shots too

[*In the storage area with the entire cast now, no explanation, you should forget that notion utterly in this form-ogyre, as we are miserable to relate it: Shoenberg and Bartok hum the refrain arm - in - arm; waiting to hear the end of the tale*]

End Part 2 10/14/98 10:55:17 PM @ Wallace Darwen Brindle 1998