The old sea-dog eyes the top of the now empty tree, and remembering days long passed, starts climbing. Reaching the top, he settles down to act as look-out.
From within the voluminous folds of his old sou'wester he drags out an ancient weather-beaten chinese imitation cajun kazoo, and begins playing Jolie Blonde as the tears roll down his cheeks.
"Oh! Oh! Ma jolie blonde
Oh! Oh! Oh! T'es p'tite fille
Jolie blonde, si jolie
Oh! T'es magnifique
Tu m'as quitté, pour t'en aller
Mais quel espoir me va moé avoir de ramener?"
Seeing the strange blue sky with the words *Translate Page From English to French* he turns and spits to leeward.
"Can't translate shit" he says, then plays a more cheerfull song.
Old Stormy, he is dead an' gone, timme way, ye Stormalong
Old Stormy he is dead an' gone, Aye, aye, aye, Mr Stormalong.