So mind them fine flash frigates,
In their flying colours gay,
Or soon they'll clear your lockers out
"Long Ratcliff Highway!

Well, last evening was a fine combination of alarms and diversions!

The evening began promisingly enough as my brother dropped me off within a block of Radio Mexico Restaurant, and when I swept in there were Frank and Al already at a table, and I hove to in a vacant chair and called for a brew. By the time we had ordered dinner several other chantysingers had joined us and everyone had a fine time stuffing themselves with seaboot frijitas and belayingpin tostados. Then we rolled out the door and over to the Seamen's Church and waited for the key-person, and we waited, and we waited. We were running out of verses to Roll the Old Chariot ( Another rum toddy wouldn't do us any harm!) when Sister Mary, who hosts the sings, hove into view. We all gave a cheer! But, alas, she didn't have a key. But she knew who to call. We all gave a cheer! But, alack, she found out that the key-person was sick, and that the back-up person was unavailable. No key... What a sorry lot we was, 30 of us poor souls clustered around the doorway of the Church trying to figure out what to do next. Well, we began moving slowly back to the Radio Mexico when one of our scouts pointed out that the tavern on the corner, Meade's at 251 Water Street, appeared largely vacant and warm, and with a rush and a cheer we occupied the place. We had a fine time singing upstairs for a while, and then were invited downstairs so that the barmaid wouldn't have to walk so far, and we were down below till after 11. A couple of regulars appeared amused at our presence. They offered no resistence being greatly outnumbered. The kitchen staff would periodically appear to check out the unusual singing. I'm sure that the ghosts in the wall cavities were also hugely amused.

Mostly we led traditional chanties, it being difficult to maneuver instruments, let alone tune and play them in the space. I did manage to contribute "Wake Up Susiana" at an early stage as a follow-up to several Santianna chanties; few people there were familiar with this precursor to the Everley Brothers famous hit song but they seemed to pick up on the refrain lines. Eric did a reading of the Ruth Moore poem, "Charlie and the Weir."

Other regulars included Jan, Eric, Hillary, Ali, Ken, Gus and about two dozen others. I'm good a remembering lyrics but bad at remembering names. Other outside guests included Deb Cowan and the friend she'll be singing with next Saturday at the People's Voice Cafe.

At one point in the evening there was a run of Titanic songs which I was interpreting to the regulars at the bar. The barmaid did quite well with appreciative tips and she was singing along with some of the more familiar chanties. Al led the Harry Robertson song about the Antarctic Whalermen, and we all shivered our timbers in time. Ken and Ali were in great form, and Frank was an inspiration to watch and hear. And what was that new Liverpool song that Jan introduced? At one point Frank brought the house down with "The Old Dun Cow" and three of us had fun adding verses to "When Jones' Ale Was New;" I contributed the verses with "the financeer with a cellphone in each ear" and "the sailor who was no digney bailer." At one point I broke out the banjo for "The Outside Track" but had to retune in the middle of the song; the poor old banjo was getting more and more bewildered about where it was.

It's nice to know that this NYC nautical crowd can still conduct a successful chantey raid. I'm sure they'll find a warm welcome at the Meade's Bar Restaurant & Raw Bar (anyone know a good rhyme for "Meade's"?) if they're ever locked out of the Seamen's Church again, and it may well prove a good place to dine and drink before the next chantey sing, given the uncertain future of Radio Mexico.

Anyway, thanks again for all the hospitality, and especially to Al who dropped me off at my brother's place in Brooklyn afterwards. You're all invited to the Press Room in Portsmouth, NH, next Saturday, from 3:30 to 7:30 pm, where the doors are always unlocked and our corner is cozy warm.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble, lazing about in Brooklyn