...I will sing a song. A beautiful
old New England folk ballad which I
picked up at Harvard amid the debris of
education. (He sings in a boisterous bari-
tone, rapping on the table with his
knuckles at the indicated spots in the
song )

“Jack, oh, Jack, was a sailor lad
And he came to a tavern for gin.
He rapped and he rapped with a (Rap,
rap, rap)
But never a soul seemed in.”

(The drunks at the tables stir. Rocky gets
up from his chair m the bar and starts
back for the entrance to the bac\ room.
Hope cocks one irritable eye over his specs,
foe Mott opens both of his and grins.
Willie interposes some drunken whimsi-
cal exposition to Larry.)

The origin of this beautiful ditty is
veiled in mystery, Larry. There was a
legend bruited about in Cambridge lava-
tories that Waldo Emerson composed it
during his uninformative period as a min-
ister, while he was trying to write a ser-
mon. But my own opinion is, it goes back
much further, and Jonathan Edwards w r as
the author of both words and music. (He
sings)

“He rapped and rapped, and tapped and
tapped
Enough to wake the dead
Till he heard a damsel (Rap, rap, rap)
On a window right over his head.”

(The drunks are blinking their eyes now,
grumbling and cursing. Rocky appears
from the bar at rear, right, yawning.)

hope (with yawning irritation): Rocky!
Bejees, can’t you keep that crazy bastard
quiet? (Rocky starts for Willie)
willie. And now the influence of a
good woman enters our mariner’s life.
Well, perhaps “good” isn’t the word. But
very, very kind. (He sings)

“Oh, come up,” she cried, “my sailor lad,
And you and I’ll agree,
And I’ll show you the prettiest (Rap, rap, rap)
That ever you did see.”

(He speaks) You see, Larry? The lewd
Puritan touch, obviously, and it grows
more marked as we go on. ( He sings)

“Oh, he put his arm around her waist.
He gazed in her bright blue eyes
And then he — ”

(But here Rocky shakes him roughly by
the shoulder.)

rocky: Piano! What d’yuh tink dis
dump is, a dump?

hope: Give him the bum's rush upstairs!
Lock him in his room!

rocky (yanks Willie by the arm): Come
on. Bum.

1939. The Iceman Cometh Eugene O'Neill.   Written in 1939, first produced in 1946.