CRAB WARS

CRAB WARS

THE DRAMA

Sit back, and imagine you are in seat 5, row G of the Pavilion Theatre on the end of Cromer Pier. The sea is sighing softly below you, and before your eyes the following unfolds:

act 1

The audience arrive to an empty stage, save for two or three tables (perhaps a lectern) with water glasses, jugs, and so on. Above, and at the back of the stage, is a giant pair of crab claws, mounted on a board, with the initials R.A.D.C. (as with buffaloes, etc). The Heckler is seated in the audience.

The play starts with the Bosun entering and ringing a bell (it might start before all the audience are seated - certainly before they are quiet. In a formal theatre the last bell might be missed out.)

Bosun All be upstanding. (He waits until the audience are) Pray be silent for the Supreme Scuttler and the Inner Legs!

Enter, in ceremonial (funny?) robes, Sheriet, Belle Bow, Ben Bow, The Chair, Captain Upspoke and Cromeo. They process to places at tables, then turn to face the crab claws.

Chair We will now all join in the singing of the Old Crustaceans Song.

The committee sing:

THE SONG OF THE OLD CRUSTACEANS

We'll sing the song of all like minds, of all the Old Crustaceans,

And to the king of all it's kind we'll drink a small libation;

Please spare a thought, oh crab so grand, for those in peril on the land.

Assembled here to do your will is all this congregation,

To call on you to cure our ills, and heal our inflammations;

Please spare a thought, oh crab so grand, for those in peril on the land.

etc

As the song ends they turn to face the audience. Their hands are formed into some suitable gesture, or they perform some freemason-like activity. The Chair raises his hands.

Chair To audience (committee remain standing) Please be seated.

Who are we?

Committee We are the Old Crustaceans.

Chair Why are we here?

Committee To honour the cancerous one.

Chair Since time immoral we have praised the crab. And since the terrible Crab Wars we have met to honour the heroes, provide for the orphans, and to comfort the widows - that's my favourite bit. Now we meet once again in solemn conclave.

Bosun (To audience) Give me a C

All C

(the same for R, A, B & S)

Bosun What have we got?

All Crabs!

THEY SING A CHORUS SONG

(e.g. The Lobster and the Crab)

Oh the lobster and the crab, when they are both full grown,

Of all the creatures in the sea, the crab, it wears the crown.

The committee sit down, except for the Bosun who hovers upstage. They may remove robes of office)

Chair (to audience) Welcome to this Extraordinary meeting of the Royal and Ancient Disorder of Crustaceans. I must say that it's nice to see so many Old Crustaceans here today (indicates audience). I only wish I could say the same about (includes a topical reference).

Now, we all know why we're here, but first we must deal with formal business, so we'll do that as quickly as possible. Do we have any apologies for absence?

Sheriet (who is acting as secretary) Titus Kipper is otherwise detained.

Cromeo Yes - at His Majesty's pleasure!

Chair Order! Any more apologies?

Heckler (after a pause) Mr or Ms Chairthing - Claud Cockle couldn't come, so I'm his poxy.

Chair I don't doubt it. Nothing serious I hope?

Heckler If it isn't they've made a big mistake at the cemetery.

Chair I see. Sorry. Any other apologies?

Ben Bow Supreme Scuttler, I would like to apologise - for not sending my apologies to the last meeting.

Chair But you were at the last meeting.

Ben Bow Indeed. That's why I didn't send my apologies. Sorry.

Chair No more? - good. Now we must move on to the minutes of the last meeting. These, as you know, have been posted on the end of Cromer Pier for the last three weeks, so you've all had a chance to read them. I would remind you that the following were re-elected as usual. (He points to them as he names them). Supreme Scuttler; myself. Recorder of the Catch; Cromeo. Grand Gutter; Admiral Bow. Head Boiler; Captain Upspoke. Holder of the Pot; Belle Bow. Santa Claws; Sheriet.

Now, we'll move on to a financial report from the Holder of the Pot.

Heckler Point of information, Mr or Mrs Chairthing. Shouldn't the report of the Grand Gutter come before the Holder of the Pot?

Chair (Dismissively) That is not a point of information - that's a point of order. I rule you out of order.

Heckler Point of order, Miss Chairthing. The order of business is out of order. The Grand Gutter should come before the Holder of the Pot.

Chair Oh, very well. Grand Gutter, your report, if you please.

Ben Bow (rising, moving papers, grandly) Supreme Scuttler, Inside Legs, fellow Crustaceans. ........... Nothing to report.

Chair Thank you. Now we will hear from the Holder of the Pot

Belle Bow Thank you your Crabbiness. Nothing to report either.

Chair Thank you Belle. So now we move on to the sole item on the agenda of the meeting - the presentation of the ballad opera. For any new Old Crustaceans (indicates audience) I will fill in the background. Last year the Inner Legs decided on your behalf that the great and glorious Crab Wars in which we all took part (indicates committee) should be commemorated in some permanent way. As you may know, the statue of Captain Upspoke was accidentally turned into a rockery some time ago .....

Upspoke Disgraceful!

Chair .... and then Belle Bow's bust was defaced ........

Belle Bow Dreadful!

Chair ...... so that now there is no permanent memorial to the great heroes and heroines of the Crab Wars - that is, ourselves. To rectify this shameful state of affairs we ordered a ballad opera to be written by that great local bard, Albert Smethurst, who some of you may know as the Singing Postboy. And tonight he is to present us with the results of his labours.

(to the Bosun) Bring in Smethurst.

(Committee all rise. Smethurst is led in blindfold by the Bosun. He has one trouser leg rolled up, and carries a book)

(Committee may sing a brief Stranger Song - to be written)

(Committee sit, except for Cromeo, who goes over to Smethurst)

Cromeo (Ceremoniously) I spy a stranger!

Upspoke Alright then - what letter does it begin with?

Chair Who speaks for this stranger in our crabby midst?

Smethurst I can speak for myself, thank you, whoever you are.

Chair Remove the blindfold.

(The Bosun does so)

Chair Please remain silent until you are recognised.

Smethurst Recognised? You know me. We've known each other since we went behind the stables with Mavis Blair on the Sunday School outing. You must remember that.

Chair Who will speak for this stranger?

Cromeo I will speak for the stranger.

Smethurst I didn't have this trouble when I wrote Horatio and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamboat for that other lot round the coast.

Chair Shut up Albert. This has to be done with the proper ceremony.

Smethurst The pace your going the proper ceremony would be a funeral.

Chair Why is the Stranger amongst us?

Cromeo The Stranger's presence was requested by the council.

Chair The chair recognises the Stranger.

Smethurst Ah, you do remember me now, then. Was it the bit about Mavis Blair that jogged your memory? I'll never forget it.

Chair Stranger, you may approach the table.

Smethurst What, forgotten again so soon?

Chair (ignoring him) Do you have a ballad opera to present, Stranger?

Smethurst Well of course I do. That's why you invited me isn't it? Or have you forgotten that too?

Cromeo (across Smethurst; grandly) Let the ballad opera be presented!

Smethurst (anti-climactically) Very well, here you are then (hands over copies of book)

Chair Is that it?

Smethurst Well, I think so. I think you'll find it's all there.

Chair I meant is that the presentation?

Smethurst Well, what did you expect? The band of the Mundesley Dark Infantry?

Chair No, that's fine Albert. It's just that the punters expect a bit of a show. Just stay there a minute while I close the meeting, then we can go for a drink.

(To meeting) That being the end of planned business I am required to ask if there is any other business to be brought before this lodge, or may I close the meeting now and we can all go to the bar?

(Committee members begin to clear up papers, put on coats, etc.)

Heckler (after a pause) Mr or Mouse Chairthing, I would like to draw your attention to section 34 of the constitution, specifically sub-section 17d, paragraph 7.

Chair Er ....... I'm not sure ..........

(The Bosun hurries to show him the correct section)

Chair Of course - paragraph 7 you say?

Heckler (perhaps reading, using torch) Yes. It says - and I quote: 'If, and/or but, insofar as there shall be an extraordinary meeting of the Order whereat there is present a quorum of Old Crustaceans, and if, and/or but, there shall be, to be presented to that assemblage, any ballad opera, musical, song cycle, medley, or other similar or dissimilar piece, it shall be the privilege of the members if, on a show of hands they show themselves to be so minded, to hear said piece - piece by piece.' I so move.

Chair (clearly completely lost) Er ............ Clerk?

(The Bosun whispers in his ear)

Heckler Mr or Master Chairpiece, I think the whole meeting should be able to hear what he has to say. My mother always said it was rude to whisper.

Chair As a matter of fact the Clerk and I were discussing procedural matters. (sarcastically) I trust that is alright with you?

Heckler I'm not sure - I'll have to ask mother.

Chair Ah, of course. As I thought. You want a vote on whether we should hear the whole thing, song by song.

Heckler That is correct, your Chairfulness.

Chair Well, I suspect you're wasting the meeting's time. I doubt you'll even find a seconder. Is there a seconder to the motion that we should hear the ballad opera?

(Someone in the audience may offer. If not one of the committee must - or perhaps Smethurst, leading to another constitutional complication)

Chair Oh, very well, we'll put it to the vote. All those in favour of hearing the thing raise their right hand and say 'Aye' (encourages audience to vote).

Those against raise their left hand and say 'no'.

Those abstaining raise both hands and say nothing.

The following is the result in the three categories 'Aye', 'No', 'nothing'.

Heckler I'll second that!

(Chair reads the result, making sure that it is a vote in favour! Committee reluctantly unpack papers, take off coats, etc.)

Chair Well, it seems we have to go through the whole thing. Mr Smethurst, would you give us the first piece?

Smethurst Certainly.

(pompously, to audience) When this commission was first put to me I was determined that I should produce a work which went beyond the simple story and allowed the listener to experience for him or herself the agony and the ...er.....(searching for word)

Sheriet Ecstasy, Mr Smethurst?

Smethurst No thanks Sheriet, not just now; I'm trying to think of a word. Suffering - that's it. To experience the agony and suffering of the individuals involved. So I started with 'The Prologue';

(as he orates he points to the characters, thus emphasising how they have changed)

THE PROLOGUE

I'll sing a county's praises, one so rare,

That travellers hearts are caught, as in a snare,

Once they arrive: and then they ne'er do grieve

Until the time doth come that they should leave.

This booteous place is known by name as Norfolk;

Tis loved the same by rich and by the poor folk;

Yet here an awful, cruel, crustaceous war broke!

First the two protagonists we must

Encounter. Neither of them can we trust,

Nor they each other. Cromer's leader bold

Was one Upspoke - so I have been told.

Though captain's rank he now, mayhap, enjoys,

He started as Upspoke the cabin boy.

While Sheringham's warlike fishermen were led

By one who filled all hearts with dread.

One Admiral Bow - a person amongst me -

But to close kin known just as Ben.

Though cursed was he in marriage - as indeed his wife was -

His daughter fair the joy of Ben Bow's life was.

Sweet Sheriet this maiden was by name,

Who ne'er a fly would kill, or even maim.

While Upspoke's son, bold Cromeo, was strong,

And handsome as the day is long.

So list now to this tale of lust and warfare;

Of lovers passions, which they now once more bare;

Players, let these people wait no more:

Let passions play - unleash the crabs of war!

Belle Bow Just one moment Mr Smethurst - what about tunes. We paid for tunes as well, you know.

Smethurst Oh, they've got tunes. I took the liberty of using well known tunes, to facilitate your assimilation of them. For instance, that one is sung to the tune of the Hallelujah Chorus.

Belle Bow And I suppose it facilitated your assimilation of our fee as well.

Cromeo You mean we already know the tunes?

Smethurst Oh yes, indeed.

Cromeo Then we could sing them ourselves. What parts are there?

Ben Bow (looking at presentation copy) We're all in it. Why don't we sing our own bits?

Chair I must remind you that this is still a formal meeting of the Disorder, and that a certain amount of decorum is expected. Would you care to make a formal proposition Recorder?

Cromeo I do apologise, your Supremeness. I propose that each person who appears in this ballad opera should play their own parts.

Chair I think that could have been better put, but I get the idea. We will vote as before.

Heckler I call for a card vote.

Chair Are you sure.

Heckler Yes - I think so.

Chair As you wish. Clerk.

(The Bosun produces a pack of playing cards, which the Chair offers to Sheriet)

Chair Aces high

(Sheriet cuts, followed by Belle Bow)

Chair 10 against 5 - I declare the motion carried. And the first of us to sing (looks at script) is the Narrator. (There is a pregnant pause) Is the Narrator here tonight?

Smethurst Well, of course not. There never was such a person as the Narrator. He's just a device. I made him up to give a sort of commentary to the opera.

Upspoke No - you're wrong there. There was a Narrator. Tall bloke, with a pig tail. Blasted nuisance he was, I can tell you. Used to wander about in the middle of a battle. Told everybody what was going on.

Ben Bow That's right. Just when you thought you were sneaking up on someone he used to sing to everyone about it, so you could never have a surprise attack.

Smethurst Well is he here tonight then?

Belle Oh no. After the wars were over we got rid of him.

Chair So we've just voted for people to sing their own songs, and now we can't even start because the Narrator's not here. Brilliant.

Heckler Mr Chairwoman. May I suggest we get Mr Smethurst to play the part of the Narrator for the purposes of this meeting?

Chair Look, we've got enough problems already thank you. Would you mind keeping any further stupid suggestions to yourself.

Heckler Sorry I spoke.

(The Bosun whispers to Chair)

Chair We have an idea. I suggest we ask Mr Smethurst here to play the part of the Narrator for the purposes of this meeting.

Heckler Brilliant. And so original!

Chair Would you mind Mr Smethurst?

Smethurst Very well. (to audience) Unaccustomed as I am to public singing, here is a song from the ballad opera The Crab Wars, written by Albert Smethurst. I have entitled the song 'Come All You', and it goes to the tune of 'It Was Christmas Night In The Workhouse'.

COME ALL YOU

Come all you good people that go out a-crabbing,

With hemp rope and pot, all as merry as can be;

I'll tell you the story of the crab boat The Scuttler,

With the pluckiest crab boys that e'er put to sea.

As they were a-floating all out on the briny,

A-seeking their crab pots one morning in May,

They searched and they hunted, but none could discover,

Till Upspoke the Captain, these words he did say;

"I'm Upspoke the Captain, George Upspoke of Cromer,

Don't fear that we'll go home unladen again.

For if we take this boat to the crab grounds of Sheringham,

We'll take some of theirs and come home wealthy men".

So sideways they sailed, as a crab boat must do,

Till the Sheringham crab beds were off the aft bow.

"Wake up all you crabs" was the cry of the fishermen,

"Get dressed in your best, for you're Cromer crabs now".

They hauled up their pots till their boat it was laden,

Their gunwales awash but their rowlocks quite dry.

They bent all their oars with the weight of their cargo,

But just halfway back another boat they did spy.

By the cut of her jib, and the tear in her mainsail,

They knew that she sailed out of old Sheringham;

And Upspoke spoke up to his jolly brave crewmen,

"Why here are the robbers of our crabs, I'll be damned!"

But the Sheringham sailors had spotted them also,

And noticed their catch of fine Sheringham crabs.

Their skipper cried out "You shall never reach Cromer,

We'll sink you, and send you to the bottom with the dabs".

And so these two crab boats they fought on the ocean,

Broadbow to broadbow, with no time for to think.

Their eighty-ninth meeting it was a completing,

And down to the bottom both vessels did sink.

When the people of Cromer and the people of Sheringham

They heard of their loses, they rose up in arms;

In the Kings Arms and the Queens Arms and the Rose they arose,

And they swore that the crabbing should never more be calm.

Upspoke That was just when I got my war wound. Boat went down; oar hit me on the head; thought I was in Cromer, waiting for myself to come home. Didn't arrive of course - got very worried about myself. Had to go and lie down. But that was all a dream. Woke up and found myself drowning; whole life flashing before my eyes. Rather tedious on the whole. Of course, there were a few interesting bits, but/

Smethurst We'll get to that later. You have an introductory song first.

Upspoke (moving forward) Very well. Few interesting facts about my earlier life - fill in the background. Born at home. Mother was there, I seem to remember. 'Course I was only little, so I can't be sure it was her. The midhusband said he'd never seen anything like me. Then, when I was three weeks old/

Cromeo Chairman - is this a ballad opera about the Crab Wars or the story of the Head Boiler's life? I move we go straight to the song.

Upspoke Well, alright - I was just coming to that. 'The Rise Of Upspoke', to the tune of 'Eskimo Nell':

THE RISE OF UPSPOKE

Upspoke the cabin boy - that pretty boy was me;

I saw to the Captain's every need when we were out at sea.

But when on land, you'll hear them tell, I saw to the Captain's wife as well,

And when the Captain did find out, "That boy should rise" said he.

Upspoke the deck hand, my work was quick and neat;

I was able to do miracles when I was in the sheets.

But one day, when not at my best, I really made an awful mess;

The Captain cried "We'll dine in that, and he'll prepare the meat!"

Upspoke the cook, my meals were really filling;

I was clean, I was neat, and I was always willing.

Till I dropped the plum duff one my foot - oh how I did then howl and hoot!

The Captain made me shanty man, and gave to me top billing.

Upspoke the shanty man, I sang out loud and clear,

And when I sang a ballad, well, I often raised a tear.

The men all jumped when I struck a chord - three of them jumped overboard -

The Captain made me up to Mate, for my talent it was clear.

Upspoke the Mate, I ran the ship so tight,

For I tripled the rum ration, and we drank both day and night.

And when the Captain raised a stink, the men all threw him in the drink -

He got an awful headache, and retired overnight.

Upspoke the Captain, I stepped into his boots.

They fitted very nicely, so I also tried his suit.

And when I wore that uniform I knew to this I had been born,

And now I lead the greatest fleet, that no-one can refute.

Ben Bow (Rising and looking belligerently at Upspoke) Supreme Scuttler - I would like to refute that last bit.

Chair Which bit?

Ben Bow The 'no-one can refute' bit.

Upspoke Can't refute that - It's irrefutable.

Ben Bow (Subsiding fast) Is it? I didn't realise. I apologise.

Chair Now, I see the next song is a duet between The Holder Of The Pot and The Grand Gutter. Anything else we need to know Mr Smethurst?

Smethurst No - I don't think so.

Belle Bow But I ought to explain that Bunny and I were much more argumentative in those days.

Ben Bow Surely we weren't all that argumentative, dearest.

Belle Bow Oh, you know I think we were, sweetheart.

Ben Bow Are you certain of that, Scrummy?

Belle Bow I am, my darling.

Ben Bow Well, I'm not sure I can whole-heartedly agree with you, Fluffy.

Belle Bow (Icily) In those days we were a great deal more argumentative than we are today, and don't try to tell me any different, sunbeam. Now, shall we get on and sing this song?

Ben Bow If you say so dear. Now, which of us do you think should start?

Belle Bow (very firmly) I will.

I WISH I WAS PLURAL NO MORE

Belle

Oh when I was single I longed to be wed,

I thought I'd find joy in my marriage bed,

But I didn't find joy, I found Molly and Ned,

I wish I was plural no more, no more,

I wish I was plural no more.

Ben

When first we got married I thought we'd spend hours

A-billing and cooing in love nests and bowers,

But now she just does bird impressions for hours,

I wish I was plural no more, no more,

I wish I was plural no more.

Belle

Oh once I admired his dingdurum so fair,

But now he's mislaid it, and I can't think where;

Most likely the pub, he spends most of his time there;

I wish I was plural no more, no more,

I wish I was plural no more.

Ben

When First I got married I thought all was well,

But before very long I wished her in hell.

So she went, but came back with her mother as well;

I wish I was plural no more, no more,

I wish I was plural no more.

Belle

Oh when I was single my mother would speak

Of rhubarb and oysters for men who are meek,

So I fed him that - he was sick for a week;

I wish I was plural no more, no more,

I wish I was plural no more.

Ben

When first I got wed to this miserable dame,

I wanted a boy to carry on my name.

Now she carries on, but that's not quite the same;

I wish I was plural no more, no more,

I wish I was plural no more.

Both

But although all we do is to argue and shout

Our union is strong, of that there's no doubt;

If we didn't have each other what would we fight about?

Oh I'm glad I'm not single no more, no more,

I'm glad I'm not single no more.

Smethurst Of course, I did consider writing that one in the old Sheringham dialect, the rhymeless slang, but I decided that since it has now fallen into disuse people might not understand it.

Heckler Me Lud, point of information.

Chair What is it?

Heckler Exactly - that's my point.

Chair What is your point?

Heckler That's my point - what is it? What is this rhyming slang he's going on about?

Chair (sighing) Grand Gutter?

Ben Bow (to audience) Well, it's how we used to talk in the old days. We had this secret way of saying things which we developed so that the tourists wouldn't be able to understand what we were saying. In the end, of course, we realised that tourism hadn't been invented, so really it was a waste of time, wasn't it dear?

Belle Bow It certainly was, Sugarplum. Still, it was fun. Do you remember all the old words?

Ben Bow Of course I do, darling. We used to say things like 'Apples and Pears'

Belle Bow That meant fruit. Then there was 'Rub a Dub'

Ben Bow That meant to massage one's dub

Belle Bow Or someone else's

Ben Bow That's right my little chicken

Chair Excuse me interrupting this little tête a tête, but ....(indicates that they should get back to their seats)

Belle Bow You've got the idea; tête a tête -

Ben Bow - to bang two people's heads together

Chair Please, let's get on, or I might do some tête a tête myself.

Belle Bow Very well.

Chair Cromeo and Sheriet; now it comes to your duet.

Cromeo Do we have to sing it together?

Chair Well, it was you that suggested we should all play our own parts.

OH! IT'S HARD

Both

Oh it's hard to be a lonely young heart

When you are full of passion unspent;

When all you yearn is one of like mind,

But body oh so different.

For all we want is what knees knock for,

All we want is what crows cock for.

Hard, hard, it's hard to be young,

When to your love you would give tongue.

Sheriet

Oh its hard to keep your maidenhead

When all around you are losing theirs.

I've always been as good as can be,

But virtue only brought despair.

I've had my eyes on three or four men,

But they said that I'm too good for them.

Cromeo

Oh it's hard when you wake up each morning;

It's hard when you go to bed alone.

For I never have known the love of a woman;

Even my mother was to me unknown.

I was brought up at my father's breast,

But that was really second best.

Both

Oh it's hard to be alone as we,

It's hard when we long to be fast.

To fly to the arms which will hold us tight

And squeeze out the pain of the past.

Oh it's hard enough to make us regret

That the two of us have never met.

Cromeo I'm afraid that was all rather embarrassing for everyone; what with the divorce pending.

Sheriet Well it's done now. Anyhow, did it hurt so much hurt to do something together for once? Perhaps if we did more of that there wouldn't be a divorce.

You see, the song was all about the time before we'd actually met. We were both young then. But we each knew that somewhere out there there was that very special person, that Mister or Miss Right, but we didn't know who they were.

Cromeo I still don't know.

Sheriet (ignoring him) So we were expected to sing the song, if I'm right Mr Smethurst, in a sort of distant harmony. (Smethurst nods agreement) You see, my husband and I had never seen each other at that stage. Not that it was foggy or dark or anything. I mean, of course the weather was pretty dreadful..............

Bosun (Emerging from his timid Clerk persona to become a ranting lunatic) Dreadful?! That was the worst weather I've ever seen, in all my years afloat. That sort of weather can only mean one thing to an old salt. That was an awful omen. That was a dreadful sign of the terrible things that were to happen. That was a terrible forecast, that weather, that no-one would come through that war alive. It was a sign - a sign that we were all doomed. Doomed to meet a terrible death; death and oblivion; oblivion - where dead men's fingers make no signs. And none of us would live to tell the tale.

Heckler Deviation, Your Chairiness. The Bosun is telling us the tale now, isn't he?

Chair Please come to the point, Bosun

Bosun (calmer) The point is, as I was just ranting, that at the start of the war we had a terrible weather forecast, unseasonable weather, and us jolly sailor boys couldn't put to sea to sink each other for fear of being sunk. But I've said enough.

Belle Bow Here, here

Bosun (Huffily ignoring her) I shall let my singing speak for itself.

JOLLY BOASTING WEATHER

Jolly boasting weather, it's far too rough to sail,

So fill me pint pot up, me boys, and I'll tell you many's a tale.

I've sailed this North Sea over, and under too, I swear,

From Boston up to Walberswick, and I've seen some rum folk there!

I'm a rare rip-roaring sailor, a Norfolk lad withal,

But on land or sea you must agree I can boast the best of all!

I've been marooned, and purpled too, on tropic Scroby Sands;

I've been lost in the Wash, me boys, when all around was land.

Been belayed on Breydon Water, till I just got up and roared,

And I've made some bold excursions on exotic Suffolk Broads.

I've lost an arm at Acle, and an earring at Each Winch;

I've even had me rigging caught on Potter Heigham Bridge!

I've weathered storms off Winterton with the dreaded Mal de Mer,

But I just threw him overboard, and I left the bugger there.

I've sailed on yawls and wherries, and in a jolly boat,

And I once put out from Cley with the most miserable man afloat.

I've been repelled by borders, and put off by paying guests;

And I've seen a sailor's hornpipe - but I wasn't much impressed.

I left Ostend one Tuesday, bound for Californiae;

I stopped for lunch at Newport, and I did it in a day.

I've been to Burnham Thorpe, and I will surely eat my hat,

If anything of any worth comes from a place like that.

You think my stories much too tall, I see it in your eyes,

But if you sat that isn't true I'll tell you that's all lies.

But even if I told the truth till I'm cold upon the slab,

Who'd believe I'd end up fighting for a load of lousy crabs?

He's boasted of his doings, but he must hold his tongue,

For now our need is truth indeed till this war is lost or won.

Cromeo I don't wish to seem pushy/

Sheriet That'd be the day!

Cromeo I don't wish too seem pushy, but is this story actually going to include anything about the war itself? You know, the blood; the battles; the heroes. I mean, that's what it's supposed to be about, isn't it?

Smethurst Oh yes. Now we get into the war bit proper. You will all appreciate, of course, that the nature of the boats themselves was a very real factor in the conduct of the war?

Heckler Point of Contact, Mr Chairleg. No we won't.

Smethurst Pardon?

Heckler Not all of us won't appreciate whatever it was you said, because some of us don't know what you're talking about. Something about the sort of boots they wore, was it?

Smethurst No, no. Not the boots, the boats, the boats. They used the proper old crab boats.

Upspoke Ah, now you're talking. The proper old crab boats. Won't see the like of them today. All sunk in the war, more's the pity. Never see them again. No bloody good, that's why. Buggers kept sinking all the time.

Chair To save our friend at the back the bother of rudely interrupting again, perhaps you'd better describe those old boats Head Boiler.

Upspoke The old boats? Proper crab boats, that's what. Went sideways. Had two great oars, sticking out of the pointed bits. Used to breed special people to row them. Had special tall people to go on the end of the oar, special medium sized people to go in the middle, and special short people to go on the outside of the boat. Used to breed them special. You can still see it today - look round this hall and you'll see them - tall people, middle sized people and little short people.

(lapses into reflection) But they were all sunk in the war. Did I tell you about the war?

Chair Yes, you told us about the war, thank you. And as you know, I had my own part to play in it. Of course, as a man of the cloth I couldn't very well actually fight, but I played my part. Is that in your ballad opera Mr Smethurst?

Smethurst Indeed it is. 'The Parson Knows'

Chair Ah - yes;

THE PARSON KNOWS

I am an ancient parson, long have I worn the frock;

Who knows the ways of sheep and goats like the crook who leads the flock?

This war is proving ruinous, as I will now disclose,

No good will come of strife like this, be sure, the parson knows.

Oh yes, the parson knows, oh yes, the parson knows;

Be sure the parson knows.

My church is racked with ruin, where it once was strong and proud;

My living it is paltry, where I once was well endowed;

My glass is old and stainéd now, my chalice underflows;

My screens grow ever ruder; hard times the parson knows.

Oh yes, the parson knows, oh yes, the parson knows;

Hard times the parson knows.

At arguing and fighting the people may be handy,

But they're neglecting other things, like smuggling my brandy.

Where once I dined on capons, and chickens as I chose,

Now all I get is odds and ends - oh yes, the parson's nose.

Oh yes, the parson's nose, oh yes, the parson's nose;

Be sure the parson's nose.

So I beg all you people, I implore you, Sue for peace,

And Caroline for plenty, and Rebecca for release.

Fire and brimstone and black treacle be upon you and your foes;

Though you all say 'yes' to this war, your suffering parson 'no's.

Oh yes, the parson knows, oh yes, the parson knows;

Belle Bow 'Couldn't actually fight'! The way I heard it you preached great long sermons about the evils of war until your congregation dropped off, and then you turned your coat.

Chair (Flicking through opera as if to see what other horrors it might contain) Well, now, whilst there is some truth in that. I wonder if Mr Smethurst might not have been a little too thorough in his research.

Smethurst 'Complete and unexpurgated' you said you wanted. 'Warts and all' you said. 'Leave no tern unstoned' - those were your words, though I could find no evidence of bird stoning anyhow.

Chair Well, quite right. And therefore - for precisely that reason - it is my duty to go through this work in order to ensure that, er, no warts have been missed.

(Talks briefly with Clerk and Smethurst)

Fellow Crustaceans, I have made a decision. We shall close this meeting for now, and reconvene in two weeks time, when your committee will present you with a dramatisation of the rest of the opera, produced by Mr Smethurst. (pointedly looks at Heckler) This is justified by section 7 of the constitution, sub section 4c, which says, in effect, that the Chairman can do just about anything he likes.

So before we go for a drink I shall ask the committee and members to help me conclude this meeting for now by joining in a well known shanty.

Between them (perhaps taking verses in turns) they sing;

A-ROWING

I put my hand upon her toe - mark well what I don't say;

I put my hand upon her toe, "Young man, you've got some way to go,

If you would set a-glowing, this fair maid."

A-rowing, a-rowing, since rowing's been my ru-i-in,

I'll go no more a-rowing with you fair maid.

I put my hand upon her knee - mark well what I don't say,

I put my hand upon her knee, "Young man, you seem quite lost to me;

Do you know where you're going, with this fair maid?"

I put my hand upon her thigh - mark well what I don't say,

I put my hand upon her thigh, "Now raise your stroke and don't be shy,

Let's have no more tip-toeing with this fair maid."

I put my hand where I'd dreamed of - mark well what I don't say;

I put my hand where I'd dreamed of, "Now shouldn't you take your life belt off?

If a good time you'd be showing this fair maid."

I caught a crab and over fell - mark well what I don't say;

I caught a crab and over fell, "Young man, it's time to say farewell;

For another tar is towing this fair maid."

A-rowing, a-rowing, since rowing's been my ru-i-in,

I'll go no more a-rowing with you fair maid.

A-rowing, a-rowing, please don't be misconstru-i-in',

For I learned all I'm knowing, from that fair maid.

***************************************************************************************

act 2

The stage is now cleared. It is two weeks later, and we are now at a production of the ballad opera, in which the parts are played by the members of the cast from the first half.

The Heckler (now Heckler 1) has been joined by Heckler 2, who previously played the part of the Chairman/Parson.

The opening number is sung by the Narrator. Various members of the cast move about the stage dressed in cardboard boats. They might also play instruments.

LOST AND FOUNDERED

In the year of sixteen hundred and eighty seven or eight,

Two mighty warlike fleets upon the ocean they did meet.

The story of their battle is a saga most compelling,

But nothing at all to do with the tale that I am telling!

For when the Cromer and Sheringham fleets they drew up for a fight,

There were only forty crab boats - not such a glorious sight.

Not such a glorious sight, but I am forced to tell,

As the fear ran through those sailor boys it was a glorious smell.

Then Ben Bow he stood up as on the ocean they were tossed;

He addressed his gallant sailors, in case they should get lost;

"We're fighting not for country, nor King, nor commonwealth;

No, this is more important, 'cause we're fighting for ourselves".

Meanwhile great Captain Upspoke was delivering an oration,

But got back just in time to predict a celebration.

"We'll all go down in history for the way that we do fight";

And since I'm singing this to you, you can see that he was right.

The two fleets they drew up in an improper formation;

They circled one another, each one keeping to his station.

Upspoke waited for the moment when Ben Bow had turned his back;

"Now trumpet blow 'retreat'", he cried, but the trumpet sucked 'attack'.

So now his fleet flew sideways; the oarsmen strained and heaved.

That old sea dogs could be so sick could hardly be believed.

Perhaps it was excitement, all in the battle's passion,

Or p'rhaps it was the herrings that they had all in their rations.

And then Ben Bow's drummer, he beatéd on the drum.

Ed, he didn't like that, but decided to keep mum.

His mum beat the drummer; she gave him such a thwack

That the crew mistook the signal, and they quickly changed their tack.

Now Upspoke saw this change, and he thought they were retreating.

But as they hadn't advanced yet, then clearly they were cheating.

"I've never see the like, in all my years afoam!

If they aren't playing by the rules then I am going home".

So now the Cromer fleet, it put back into port;

The sailors went on leave, so they left to play and sport.

The town was filled with quaffing, and chorusing and kissing,

But while they whored and womanised, they found one man was missing.

Heckler 1 (Standing) Point of information!

Heckler 2 Sit down. This is a performance, not a meeting.

Heckler 1 In that case I withdraw my point of information. That's what I wanted to know.

Heckler 2 Ssh!

Heckler1 But what was that about people missing? Have I missed something?

Heckler 2 It was Upsoak and Cromeo - they were lost at sea.

Heckler 1 Well I can understand that - there's no landmarks at sea. Only water marks.

Heckler 2 Ssh - here's Upsoak to tell us of his dream.

Heckler 1 Oh good - the saucy bit.

Heckler 2 Ssh!

UPSPOKE'S DREAM

On Cromer cliff stood I, just to see what I could spy,

And the something that I saw began with N;

Not a Nautilus or Narwhal, nor a fair mer-maiden's Navel,

But Nothing - no crabs, no boats, no men.

No-o men. No nothing, no crabs, no boats, no men.

Straightway back home I fled, and I put myself to bed,

For it seemed clear that I wasn't seeing things.

But then I was aware 'twas because the things weren't there,

So where then were those dillies dallying?

Dallying. So where then were those dillies dallying?

Well we waited now for news of that brave and gallant crew;

No news is no good was the tale.

Till the crier rang his bell, for to tell that they had fell,

And on Tuesday there would be a rummage sale.

Rummage sale. And on Tuesday there would be a rummage sale.

But then from my dream I woke, for to find that I was soaked,

As many dreamers must have done before.

But how many of them I wonder, found themselves just going under

For the third time, fifty yards from off the shore?

Off the shore. For the third time, fifty yards from off the shore.

Well I swore I'd get revenge, and my losses I'd avenge

For this sinking it had cost me dear, no doubt.

It had cost my boat, my gear, and my crew - but worst, I fear;

Now I'll never know just how the dream came out!

Came out. Now I'll never know just how the dream came out!

Heckler 2 But he got back to Cromer, safe and sound. Not like Cromeo - he was washed up on the strand.

Heckler 1 What? In London?

Heckler 2 No, no. In Sheringham.

Heckler 1 Oh I know. Where the chip shop is.

Heckler 2 Ssh!

We find Cromeo, covered in seaweed, lying in the middle of the stage, from where he delivers his song.

He accompanies it with grand gestures, which causes him some trouble because of his prone position. Or he may play an instrument, with the same sort of problems.

The chorus is sung by Upspoke and The Bosun, dressed as seagulls. They may sing their own quotes in the song, and/or play instruments.

ALL WASHED UP

The battle was raging and so was the crew,

"Good Lord", I cried out, "Now what shall II do?

For I fear that our men in the drink will all drown".

"In that case", said the bosun, "Make mine mild and brown!"

"Come square up your foresails, let the mainsails be bent!"

But nobody really knew quite what that meant.

So instead we just drifted along with the tide,

Till the cold coast of Sheringham appeared on the foreside.

And it's oh-oh-oh, I'm all washed up,

Washed up on the shore;

And I never shall see Cromer town no more.

Hemmed in 'twixt the Sheringham fleet and the beach,

And the rest of our boats drifted far from our reach;

Yes, the rest of our fleet from our ship they had sped -

I think it was probably something we said!

The Captain said "Cromeo, if you'd be wise,

Don't shoot till you can see the whites of their eyes.

Yes, the whites of their eyes", he repeated again;

But their eyes were all bloodshot - I waited in vain.

And it's oh-oh-oh ..............

The Captain cried "Set to, me jolly brave lads!"

But we just set one, for that's all we had.

The cannon they boomed, and the Captain he roared;

The boom it did cannon, knocked me overboard.

So now on the Sheringham shore I do lie,

With the waves breaking o'er me, and the sad seagull's cry.

Yes the cry of the seagull, full of sorrow and woe;

But what's he got to cry about, I'd like to know?

And it's oh-oh-oh ..............

Cromeo subsides at the end of his song, and the others exit.

Enter Sheriet. She is wandering dreamily, until she discovers the body of Cromeo. She sings to the audience, returning to the body as seems to fit the sense of the song. The song is sung straight.

BRAVE OLD WORLD

'Twas on the Sheringham shore that I espied a creature;

A being, what is more, of full and noble feature.

Oh, what a brave old world that has such creatures in it;

If he's alive then I'll revive him - it'll only take a minute.

Is it the giant crab, who lives on Scroby Sands,

And seduces any maiden fair who in his lair should land?

Oh, let it be that crab, that wonderful crustacean,

Whose tender claws can fill a maiden's heart with palpitations.

Oh that he should carry me away, away to Scroby,

And there that we should marry, and no more filled with woe be!

For when I am his mate I'll live just like a princess,

And happily await the pitter-pat of tiny pincers.

But no! - this is no crab; 'twas just a maiden's fancy.

The vision flies, before my eyes behold I can a man see.

But a man from Cromer town; and yet he is so fair

That Cupid's dart has pierced my heart, right through my underwear.

So be he friend or foe? How can I love my enemy?

But how can I hate a man so fair? Caught in a cruel dilemma, me!

My father will be angry, if he do come to know;

Cruel fate that Cupid's arrow strikes the daughter of a Bow!

And so, my love, awake - before my father finds you,

And in some dismal dungeon deep with cruel fetters binds you.

So now I kiss your lips, to wake you from your trance,

And to my closet we shall haste without a backward glance.

Oh what a brave old world, that has such creatures in it;

If he's alive then I'll revive him - haste, now I'll begin it.

Cromeo and Sheriet exit at the end of her song (she may propel him from the stage ahead of her, delivering the last two lines 'round the curtain', with a deal of innuendo. A fireman's lift is a possibility, or even a wheelbarrow).

Heckler 1 Is she the wardrobe mistress then?

Heckler 2 What?

Heckler 1 Well, you know, all that stuff about closets.

Heckler 2 Look, all these people here are trying to follow the play. Will you be quiet?

Heckler 1 (after thought) No, I shouldn't think so.

Sound of handbell from stage.

Enter the Narrator. He carries a bell and a scroll. Throughout the song he moves like a newsreader turning to catch camera changes.

HERE IS THE NEWS (1)

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Here is the news! Here is the news!

Good evening. Here's the latest news of Cromer for tonight,

Which is that Sheringham and Cromer continue to fight.

The fleet at Sheringham lick their wounds, but as they count the cost

George Upspoke's brave son Cromeo is missing, and feared lost.

Meanwhile the crowds in Mundesley were very much delighting

In all the antics at the pro-celebrity cock-fighting.

And now, for sale, a plough horse, only four years old;

It's had one careful owner and starts very well from cold.

It's only done three thousand acres - that's genuine, we vow -

Two guineas or near offer, why not go for a test plough?

After the break Lucinda will be showing all she's got,

And listeners can be assured she's really got the lot.

But just once more the headlines - Cromeo is feared deceased,

And finally, the weather - there'll be more rain in the East.

And that was the news, the very latest news!

Enter Belle Bow. In a confidential manner she sings;

BELLES ON HER TOES

Now women will have secrets, as long as men believe

That women can't keep secrets - now aren't they just naïve?

For some have secret lovers, and some have secret sins,

And some have secret services performed upon bear-skins!

And if he knew my secret, my husband would be wild;

The daughter that he loves so well is really not his child.

Now once I had a baby boy, a pink and squalling brat;

I swore I'd never more give birth - nor sell it, come to that.

But when I got that baby home, well what do you suppose?

It had its mother's pretty lips, and not its father's nose!

And if he knew my secret, it would not disappoint,

But it would surely put his precious nose right out of joint.

For in the cottage hospital those tiny tots were mixed,

And I came home well pleased for my dear husband I had fixed.

He begged me and insisted that our family be expanded;

Says I "If you want babies you can make them single handed!"

And if he knew my secret, my husband would have twins,

For Sheriet is not his girl; she isn't even kin.

But now the truth will out - the cook is clearly goosed -

And very soon we all shall see the cows come home to roost.

For I saw something yesterday which made me start, and so

I've started so I'll finish what I started long ago.

And if he knew my secret, my husband would go blind;

For the guessing of my secret it would take a mastermind.

For there in Sheriet's closet, while hanging up her clothes,

I spied a man - "Oh well", I thought, "Girls will be girls I s'pose."

But as he buttoned up his shirt I saw a secret sign;

This man inside her cupboard was the skeleton in mine.

And if he knew my secret, he'd praise the Lord above,

But right now he'd misunderstand this case of cupboard love.

And then my husband found him, and locked him in a cell;

He whipped him and he flogged him, and mistreated him as well!

He keeps him there in chains, but soon he'll spot the link,

It's true that he is writing wrongs, but not the way he thinks!

And when he knows my secret, my husband will be wild;

The daughter that he loves so well is really not his child.

Belle Bow (archly - to audience) But don't tell him, will you?

Heckler 2 (to her retreating back) Your secret's safe with us.

Heckler 1 We won't tell a soul.

They proceed to discuss it with the audience.

Heckler 1 So does Cromeo come out of the closet then?

Heckler 2 You'll see if you shut up.

Heckler 1 No need for that. I can see and talk at the same time.

Heckler 2 Well watch my lips then; Ssh!

Heckler 1 I couldn't see them properly, 'cause you put your finger in the way.

Heckler 2 I'll put my finger somewhere else if you don't be quiet.

(There is a pause)

Heckler 1 I'm thinking about it.

We find Ben Bow at one side of the stage (seated at a desk?).

The Bosun brings on Cromeo (from the same side) in chains.

Ben Bow What is it? Can't you see I'm about to sing a song?

Bosun We found this man in Sheriet's closet, Sir.

Ben Bow I see. And what were you doing in Sheriet's closet?

Bosun Er, well, it was by way of being a routine enquiry, Sir. But don't 'ee see who it be. It be Cromeo Upspoke!

Ben Bow So it be - I mean, so it is.

Cromeo You'll never take me alive!

Ben Bow Well, we're not doing badly so far, are we? Take him away and lock him up. (The Bosun does, seeming to hand him over to others off stage) I'll find out what he was doing in my daughter's closet later. Probably some sort of wardrobe fetishist, I shouldn't wonder.

Old Upspoke will have to surrender now I've got his son hostage. (Calls) Bosun!

The Bosun returns. As he enters he makes a business of opening an imaginary door, and then stumbles. Or this routine may begin after verse 1.

Ben Bow Mind the step. I want you to take a letter to Captain Upspoke in Cromer as follows;

He sings or speaks the letter, the clerk writing;

SEALED WITH A CURSE verse 1

Bow

Dear Captain Upspoke, I hope this finds you well;

Pray brace yourself for gravest news, for such I have to tell.

I am writing to inform you that I have caught your son,

And unless you now surrender I will put him to the gun!

I can't write more, it grieves me most, but I must dash to catch the post.

Yours in haste - Admiral Bow.

Ben Bow Of you go then.

The bosun goes out of the door, minding the step, and goes to the other side of the stage (by going off and crossing behind the curtain, moaning and muttering). Here sits, or paces, Captain Upspoke. The bosun knocks on another imaginary door, is told to enter, then reels back slightly.

Upspoke Mind your head. Letter from Ben Bow is it?

The clerks nods, then wishes he hadn't. He offers the letter to Upspoke.

Upspoke No need - heard him singing. Dreadful business - fellow's tone deaf. Well, I'll show him who's the great dictator - take this.

SEALED WITH A CURSE verse 2

Upspoke

Dear Admiral Bow, I'm sorry to be slow

In getting round to answering, but I've not been well you know.

Please furnish further details about this little bother;

I must go now as I expect a visit from my mother.

P.S. I hope you'll find the time to wish luck to that boy of mine.

Yours sincerely - Upspoke, George.

The clerk takes the letter. The toing and froing and door and steps etc. can be carried on and developed as required - e.g. he can reappear with his head bandaged, with a stick, and so on.

SEALED WITH A CURSE verses 3 to 6

Bow

My dear George, how sorry were we all

To hear about your illness and we hope that you're now well.

The details you requested I'm happy to supply;

First we will chop his hands off, and then poke out both eyes,

Then serve his head up on a platter; I hope now we can end the matter.

Wishing you well, Ben Bow.

Upspoke

Me dear old Ben, yes, now I'm fighting fit

But thanks for asking. And the lad? I suppose he's grown a bit.

The details that you furnished are admirably clear,

But I must beg your patience for my reply I fear.

I'd like my deputy to agree, but at this moment he's at sea.

Your old mate - your friend, George.

Bow

Dear old matey, so pleased you're back to health;

I always say that fitness is worth more than any wealth.

But to the point; this matter now must quickly end its journey,

Or I'll be forced to put it in the hands of my attorney.

P.S. regards from Cromeo; a credit to you, you should know.

Ever yours - your chum Benny.

Upspoke

Dear Benny-boy, I'm sure you are quite right

About the healthy, wealthy bit; but there I lose you quite.

I see no need for lawyers in business of this kind,

But since you won't see reason you'll be hearing soon from mine!

Oh yes, a further small request; please check the lad has changed his vest.

Thanks a lot - your pal Georgy.

After the penultimate verse Cromeo is brought into Ben Bow's office

Ben Bow What is it? I'm trying to sing a song here!

Bosun Something 'ee should see, Admiral. The crew was just getting him ready for a bit of keelhauling - just to keep their spirits up you understand - when stap me if they didn't find this!

Cromeo's shirt is opened, revealing a red splodge (or strawberry shape).

Ben Bow Well?

Bosun Why don't 'ee taste it, Sir?

Ben Bow touches the splodge with his finger, and then, rather dubiously, licks it.

Ben Bow Good grief! A strawberry flavoured birthmark, just like my own!

He opens his shirt to reveal an identical splodge

Ben Bow This can only mean one thing. He is a Bow. My own long lost son - that I didn't even know I'd lost!

Cromeo What - you mean I'm really called Cromeo Bow (he pronounces it 'Chromy Oboe'). I'll never live it down.

Ben Bow Take him to the house and make him comfortable. I'll be along son, as soon as I've finished this song.

SEALED WITH A CURSE verse 7

Bow

George my old cock, it gives me greatest joy

To be the first to tell you that we now have got a boy.

As to that other business, now something has arisen

That changes things completely; I've released the lad from prison.

So all in all it would be better to disregard my previous letters!

So sorry to have been a bore, but damn your eyes, now this means war!

Ben Bow and Upspoke leave the stage in opposite directions.

Heckler 1 So what's going on now?

Heckler 2 Well, I expect it's too expensive to stage, but the fighting broke out all over again. There was lots of lovely battles. There was the Battle of Upspoke's Ear, The Battle of Upspoke's Other Ear, The Battle of Kelly's Eye, The Battle of Legs Eleven -

Heckler 1 that was a very disjointed sort of a war all round then.

Heckler 2 Upspoke even tried to catch Bow out by having a land battle, but that didn't work too well. They had a hell of a job getting the boats up Cromer cliffs. But meanwhile the news was just filtering through to Cromer about Cromeo.

Heckler 1 What news was that then?

Enter the Bosun with parrot on shoulder, and boats (see 'Lost And Foundered')

Heckler 2 Ssh! It's the Bosun again.

Heckler 1 I didn't realise it was the Bosun in the first place.

Heckler 2 Ssh!

98 NOT OUT

Our ship she laid in harbour, our Captain laid in bed,

But who he laid I just don't know because he never said.

We were waiting for fresh orders when he leapt up with a shout;

"If I'm the Captain hadn't I better start giving some orders out?"

He cried "Come, come, me jolly brave lads, each with a valiant heart,

It's time we joined the battle, for it seems to be falling apart!"

And so we weighed the anchor, and measured it as well;

It seemed to be about the right size, as best as we could tell.

Bound down for the coast of Sheringham, our orders did run so,

"We're bound to sink and destroy me boys, no matter where we go.

We're bound to sink and destroy, boys", these words did our Captain speak;

"We're bound to sink, that much I know, 'cause we've just sprung a leak!"

We had no been a-sailing past thirty feet or more

When we espied a strange sail, and down on us she bore;

When we espied a strange sail, all on the seas afloat,

But if you think that sail was strange, you should have seen the boat!

Then broadstern to broadstern the cannon roared like thunder:

They fired half our deck away, which caused us all to wonder.

Then half of that they fired as well, and things were getting rough;

We only had a quarter deck left, which really wasn't enough.

There were just three men left on board; the captain and me and the mate.

We were the few that had come through on board that ninety-eight.

Their skipper stood on the poop deck; his hands to his mouth he cupped,

And yelled out "Come in ninety-eight, for now your time is up!"

So on the high seas, high, we could no longer stay;

'Twas time to leave the battle, for it was not going our way.

Our men were dead - or drownded; the ship was sinking fast;

But our Captain went down with his ship, for we'd lashed him to the mast!

Enter The Narrator with bell etc

HERE IS THE NEWS 2

The wedding's off, for a daughter cannot wed her father's son.

Meanwhile Cromer has been buzzing with tales of Widow Wild;

Some say that the devil i

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Here is the news! Here is the news!

Our man in Sheringham has recently sent this report,

That things there really don't appear to be quite as we'd thought.

For Cromeo's alive, it seems, and captured as a spy;

So as he lived he was of course straightway condemned to die.

But as for execution he was stripped completely bare,

A strawberry flavoured birthmark could be seen quite clearly there.

The crowd all gasped, for this did prove beyond a single doubt

That Cromeo is Bow's own boy - oh, what a turn about!

But though it seems all must be well as he's avoided slaughter,

It then turns out that Cromeo was courting Ben Bow's daughter.

Our legal experts tell us that while his head stays on,

s the father of her child.

Some say she consorted with a seal in human guise,

But we say Titus Clinton will leave town if he is wise.

In Sheringham the maid has fled now she has learned the facts,

It's just as though she'd vanished for her trace cannot be tracked.

The constables are after her, though she's got a head start,

And they've not got much to go on; just a worn out donkey cart.

And that was the news, the very latest news!

Heckler 1 I know just how Sheriet feels. I mean, I wouldn't want to marry anyone with a strawberry flavoured birthmark like that. I hate strawberries.

Heckler 2 No, no, no - you've got it wrong/

Heckler 1 (interrupting) Oh I see, so now you know more about what I hate than I do.

Heckler 2 No, I mean ... Ssh - here comes Sheriet.

Heckler 1 Oh, I see - I think.

Enter Sheriet, wandering distraught. She has a spotted handkerchief on a stick, and someone in a cat costume who joins in the chorus - or two trees who perform the same function.

THE LEAVING OF SHERINGHAM

Come all you maids, and all you others, when you are held in passions grip;

When pants your heart for your true lover, consider your relationship.

For first my lover was discovered, locked away, and flogged and whipped,

Till he became my own true brother, so from our home I quietly slipped.

For forty nights and forty-one days

She wandered wild all the woodland ways

I could not bear to live beside him, he who had my heart beguiled,

And so I ran off to the wild wood; there I went completely wild.

I lived on what the woods provided - mainly leaves, which there abound -

And halfway up a giant chestnut made my home; tree up, tree down.

'Twas there that I was found one day, by one who roved both East and West.

Half a tinker, half a gypsy - tipsy would describe him best.

Along with him he bade me travel to greener pastures, fields anew,

And I agreed, for after all I'd really little else to do.

And so the time went slowly by, as did the sage and parsley too.

Until at length the town of Cromer slowly hove into our view.

And there, while I was selling fortunes, reading clothes pegs, door to door,

I found employment as a skivy, doing errands, running chores.

And then one day as I was bathing in my bath - the perfect spot -

My master came into the kitchen; like Lott's wife he saw the lot!

What he saw quite turned him ashen, and made me blush from head to toe;

Except my strawberry flavoured birthmark, which always has a rosy glow.

Exit Sheriet

Heckler 1 So where was this mole, then? Hello? What are you looking at me like that for?

Enter Narrator

HERE IS THE NEWS (3)

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Here is the news! Here is the news!

We interrupt whatever you were doing to bring word

That Sheriet has just been found, in Cromer, so we've heard.

A birthmark shows she's Upspoke's child, so now consider this;

There's nothing keeping Cromeo and her from wedded bliss.

You may be sure we'll leave no stone unturned as things progress,

To bring you every single detail of the wedding dress.

In the news tomorrow we've our finger on the pulse

With the return of Spot The Bladder and the bear-baiting results.

And finally Lucinda is disrobing all unknowing

Beside her open casement - so I really must be going!

And that was the news, the very latest news!

Heckler 1 So what do you make of that? (no response) Well I think sulking's childish.

Cast return, including Parson who has now quit his heckling duties. The Narrator sits off to one side.

Between them they sing the various verses of;

THE WHITE CLIFFS OF CROMER

Now the clouds have parted and the sun is shining through,

And now we know whose child is who's the wedding can ensue.

Tomorrow our young lovers will come tripping up the aisle,

And everyone who catches them will wear a happy smile.

And at the party after as the words begin to slur,

And the toast is going round and round, of this you may be sure.

They'll be falling over the white cliffs of Cromer,

Tomorrow, the old soothsayer said.

There'll be joy and laughter, and hangovers after,

And waking up in other people's beds.

Now Ben and Belle are buddies for they've each got what they lacked;

They lost a daughter, found a son, then gained the daughter back.

Some said that without victory the war would never cease,

But Sheringham and Cromer will forever live in peace.

And on the morrow, certainly, each person will agree,

To drink healths to each other - after all, the drink is free.

The Captain and the Admiral, the Parson and the Clerk;

Bosun, Bow and Crier are as happy now as larks.

And Cromeo and Sheriet - you can be sure of this -

On the morrow will begin a long long life of married bliss.

They'll get a great reception and the alcohol will flow,

If only to blot out the speech prepared by Admiral Bow!

The Narrator drifts centre stage to sing

A NARRATOR'S LIFE

So all you good people that listened to the story,

The tale is now told, and the end it is nigh.

Their joy is abundant, but now I am redundant,

And while they are laughing I only can sigh.

For while happy afters are their just desserts,

For me now the future is not at all sweet.

Their story is ended, their troubles all mended,

But mine just begun as I'm thrown on the street.

A narrator's life is a miserable life;

He never takes part in the triumph or joy.

While they are united he's never invited

And he must go seeking some further employ.

So you that sit pretty, enjoying the story,

Just bear you in mind these last words I do say;

It's many a dark and a cloudy old morning

Which turns out to be a dark cloudy old day.

Exit Narrator

The cast, between themselves, sing;

WE DID IT SIDEWAYS

And now, the end is nigh, our business soon will be completed,

But ere we say goodbye we've this to add, so please stay seated;

Now we have hunted crabs, both from the shore and in the tideways,

But more, much more than that, we did it sideways.

What is a crab? What has it got?

If not eight legs then it is not.

Whate're its part in the creation

Still it is not a true crustacean.

The way to tell is, like ourselves,

They do it sideways.

Courgettes, I've had a few, but then again too few to mention;

They taste of nought at all, and always give me indigestion.

So when we near Kings Lynn, where they are served in funny fried ways,

We snort, please pass the port, and do it sideways.

Once at a meal they gave me trout;

I ate it up and spat it out!

And though they stared and called me selfish

I would not eat what is not shellfish.

I couldn't stop, I had to hop,

But did it sideways.

They say a man must do what he must do - that's why we did it!

We always caught the crabs, we're proud to say we never hid it.

We meet young ladies sweet who try to temps us in untried ways,

But always love our wives, and do it sideways.

And now, the end has come!

Exit all

***************************************************************************************

As an encore, we might consider THE GREAT CRAB OF SCROBY SANDS;

There stood a maid on Sheringham strand,

"Come love to me", this maid began,

And as she had started, so too did she finish,

"Come Tom, come Dick, or - at a pinch - Glynis".

Now there came a crab from out of the sea,

"You called?" he said, "Well here I be;

For I would be your lover true,

And get my four legs over you."

And for that crab she straightway fell,

From his blue eyes on stalks to his silk-smooth shell.

I blush to tell what then occurred;

She met his end, and he met hers!

And when they'd had enough of that

Said he "I'd love to stop and chat,

But for intercourse social I cannot stay

And to Scroby Sands I must away".

Well nine months later, so it is said,

This maid lay groaning all on her bed.

For three long nights and days of pain,

Till she swore she would never eat radishes again.

Now if from this story you would learn,

Then radishes you surely must spurn;

And unto that it seems I must add,

That it's quite alright to consort with crabs.