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Rolfie would climb on the table in the estaminet and sing numerous unprintable verses of his own, entitled "Oh, What a Merry Plyce is Hengland." The only redeeming feature of this song was the chorus, which everybody would roar out and which went like this: Cheer, ye beggars, cheer! Britannia rules the wave! 'Ard times, short times Never'll come agyne.
She welcomed me with the statement: "We do not take lodgers here, nor boarders; no lodgers, nor boarders, but we do occasionally admit paying guests, those who look as if they would appreciate the quietude of the plyce and be willing as you might say to remunerate according."
Tyke me back to Blighty, That's the plyce for me. It doesn't look like much and I'm afraid my rendition of cockney dialect into print isn't quite up to Kipling's. But the song had a pretty little lilting melody, and it went big. They made me sing it about a dozen times and were all joining in at the end. Then they got sentimental and gloomy.
"Look here, Floss," she said excitedly. "Look at me. "I wish I knew what that word meant. It's always coming up in my magazine." "I think," said Flossie, "it means something like smart. Stylish, you know." Young Sidney leapt suddenly from his seat. "Go it, Flossie! Give us the French for a nice little cup er tea." "Really, it's too bad we can't have a plyce to ourselves where we can talk.
"These chaps were regular settlers, weren't they?" said Barry, after they had exchanged greetings. "Yes, sir, they intended to sty, apparently," said the Australian, in his slow drawl. "We found some letters on a wounded officer indicating their intention to remyn for the durytion, but we wanted the plyce couldn't carry on without it in fact.
His repertory was small: the chords of "Home, Sweet Home" fell under his fingers; and when he had played the symphony, he instinctively raised up his voice, "Be it never so 'umble, there's no plyce like 'ome," he sang. The last word was still upon his lips, when the instrument was snatched from him and dashed into the fire; and he turned with a cry to look into the furious countenance of Mac.
What're sailormen wantin' wi' clorth-makin' and 'ammering' tin-pots? Them's the only jobs we wuz offered in Lunnon. I don't give a curse for the plyce.... No, Sammy an' me we says to each other" he took another drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand "we says this ain't no plyce for us. We'd just come over frum Jamaica " "Go on!
"I'm out of a plyce myself," said Hemstead. "You beat me all the way and back," says Carthew. "My trouble is that I have never been in one." "I suppose you've no tryde?" asked Hemstead. "I know how to spend money," replied Carthew, "and I really do know something of horses and something of the sea. But the unions head me off; if it weren't for them, I might have had a dozen berths."
Don't think it's because the plyce don't suit no man ever 'ad a better, thanks to you. Sometimes I think, though, as 'ow all men get the feelin' in spells. Do you ever feel that wye?" "I'm chock full of it now, Carrick. I must get away from the manacles of cities. Hand me that atlas I'll study the map of Europe again. Thanks. This is about the tenth time."
Shoutin' out at th' top o' yer lungs: Damn the German army! Oh, wot a lovely plyce is Hengland! Our ten days en repos at Petite-Saens came to an end all too soon. On the last day we lined up for our official "bawth." Petite-Saens was a coal-mining town.
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