Well Played (Well Met #2)(69)
Syd gave a slow shake of her head. “That’s . . . That’s not one that we do.”
“Yeah.” Caitlin nodded emphatically, her eyes wide. “It’s about drinking. We’re too young for that.”
I felt a jolt in my stomach. Oh no. Was I corrupting the youth? Simon was going to kill me.
But Janine, the tallest Lily and our highest soprano, broke the mood with a giggle. “They’re messing with you. We did that song a bunch in rehearsals.”
Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but Mr. G said we can’t do it. Too adult.”
“Well, this isn’t a performance.” I gestured out into the audience, where three people had left and the last two were sitting with their backs to us, clearly not interested. “And Mr. G isn’t here to boss us around, okay? It’s just for fun.”
Unselfconsciously, I launched into the song:
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?
The rest of the girls had joined in with me by the second line, and we started the refrain together:
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Weigh heigh and up she rises
Early in the morning
By the time we’d finished, we weren’t alone. A handful of patrons had settled in the back, giving us a smattering of applause. Meanwhile, the men of the Dueling Kilts, trailed at a slight distance by Daniel with a drink in his hand, had come back to reclaim their stage, and looked amused to find it taken over by a bunch of girls.
“Don’t let us stop you.” Dex had his guitar slung over his back, and now he swung it forward and picked out the melody, nodding at us to keep going.
So we did, and soon Frederick and Todd got their instruments from the small backstage area and joined in. Verses of “Drunken Sailor” were tricky, because the song was hundreds of years old and had probably a million verses. But we started with the standards:
Chuck him in the longboat till he’s sober
Chuck him in the longboat till he’s sober
Chuck him in the longboat till he’s sober
Early in the morning
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
(“Ouch,” said Syd, and we all laughed.)
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Shave his belly with a rusty razor
Early in the morning
During a round of “weigh heigh and up she rises” I hopped off the stage to where Daniel sat in the empty second row, his legs stretched out on the bench in front of him.
“What’s that?” I took the small plastic cup out of his hand and sniffed the pale liquid inside. “Mead?” I made a face and handed it back to him.
“Yep. Got it from your tavern.” He took a sip. “You don’t like mead? You should. It’s sweet, like that wine you drink.”
I shook my head. “It’s too thick, like that beer you drink.” He laughed as I went back onto the stage with the girls.
“Now the great thing about this song,” Dex said to the girls while he continued to play the melody line, “is that it’s so old, people just keep making up new verses, and as long as they fit the meter, it works. It’s good for audience participation–type stuff, you know?” The girls nodded, eyes wide, soaking in the man-candy that was Dex MacLean, as though they hadn’t told me ten minutes ago that they shouldn’t be singing this song at all.
“Like . . . like what?” Janine asked.
“Well . . .” Dex finished the final bars of the verse and started them over again. Frederick jumped back in with a flourish of his hand drum.
“Like . . .” Frederick pointed at Todd, on the fiddle. “Put him on stage and make him tap-dance!”
We all laughed, but Todd did an impressive time-step in his stompy boots, and the girls joined in:
Put him on stage and make him tap-dance
Put him on stage and make him tap-dance
Early in the morning!
Syd jumped in next: “Make him listen to eighties music!”
That one was even better, and we turned it into a verse:
Make him listen to eighties music
Make him listen to eighties music
Make him listen to eighties music
Early in the morning!
By now the girls were all laughing, and we were all clapping along with the music, our voices harmonizing with the Kilts, and I was almost sorry when we did one more round of the “weigh heigh and up she rises” refrain to end the song. The guys were grinning, the girls were giggling, and the audience that had gathered for the Kilts’ next show gave us an enthusiastic round of applause. Great. We’d become their opening act. Hopefully Simon wouldn’t find out about this.
Daniel stood up from his place in the second row, tossing back the last swallow of his drink. “I hate to break this up, guys, but we’ve got a show to get ready for.” From the look on his face, he really did hate being the voice of reason. But it was about time for the guys to do their set. Which meant we should get back to our little stage up front for a set of our own.
We bid the guys goodbye, and I gathered the girls like a mama hen with her chicks, shooing them off the stage and up the center aisle. Daniel was there when I got to the lip of the stage, offering a hand to help me hop down. But when my feet were back on the dirt he didn’t let go. Instead his hand tightened on mine and he tugged me a step closer.