Mylo Bates’ Singin’ School

                                                         "Do, re, me, fa, sol, la, ti, do,"

                                                         That’s how we worried up the scale,

                                                         Each country lad an’ lass;

                                                         "Do ti, la, sol, fa, me, re, do,”

                                                         That’s how we came back down again

                                                         In Mylo Bates’ class.

Now Mylo Bates was somethin’ more than leader of the choir;

To eddicate the hull blamed world in song wad his desire.

He said he’d ruther sing than eat, though folks would allus say

He had an awful appetite, an’ had it ev’ry day.

They said he liked to sing of course, but they had noticed My’

Would allus stop to eat a meal, pervidin’ there was pie;

But all the same there warn’t a bass in Gungy’s wondrous shire,

Could rip a solo out like My’ or lead a village choir.

In winter time twice ev’ry week they met for practice there

Down in the vestry of the church, the lads an’ lasses fair;

Some went to learn to sing uv course, an’ some just went, I fear,

Becuz they knew that someone else would be a-settin’ there.

At any rate ‘twas allus full, was Mylo’s singin’ school,

An’ turnin’ out good singers wasn’t excepting, but the rule;

An’ if a match or two was made  each year twixt lads an’ lass

So much the more praise orter go to Mylo’s singin’ class.

How Mylo used to stand an’ wave his stick both to an’ fro

Then up and down the way, uv course, the music orter go,

Dependin’ on the time, “Two four”, or “four four” as might be,

Detectin’ here an’ there a voice slight out uv harmony.

Beginin’ at the lowest note, which as you know is “do”,

Then risin’ step by step each beat, up, up the class would go

Until it reached the higher note, which same was “do” again,

Then comin’ downward easy like the octive’s easy strain.

“                                                        “Do, re, me, fa, sol, la, ti, do,"

                                                         That’s how we wandered up the scale,

                                                         Each timid lad an’ lass;

                                                         “Do ti, la, sol, fa, me, re, do,”

                                                         That’s how we got back down again

                                                         In Mylo Bates’ class.

It warn’t so much the practice nights, though they had many joys

With all their tinges of romance betwixt the girls an’ boys,

But what was greatest fun of all, an’ most important, too,

Was Mylo’s concert musical when singin’ class was through.

That was the grand event of all, the classiest by fur,

Of anything in Gungywump, for music, as it were;

An’ Mylo he was by the ears, all nervous like an’ pale,

To have that musical of his the winter’s grand finale.

He had quartets an’ trios there, an’ solos an’ duets,

All trained to run them pieces off likeoperatic vets;

The tenors stood way on the end, the s’pranos next in line,

The altos an’ the basses next in regular design.

An’ Mylo he stood up in front to signal here an’ there,

An hammer out the double “¦’s” or shade the soft an’ fair;

Jest like a big machineMy’ had that class in his control,

A-movin’ out them good old tunes that stir the hardest soul.

The church was filled upstairs an’ down, with folks from fur an’ near,

With folks who’d heard the same ol’ songs of Mylo’s ev’ry year.

But who gits tired of “Home Again”, or “Bonnie Lassie Jean”,

“Before Jehovah’s Awful Throne”, an’ “Ol’ Black Joe”, I mean?

Who ever tires of ”Tubal Cain”, “Star of Descending Night”,

“Two Roses Fair”, an’ “Speed Away”, ol’ songs that bring delight

To countless thousands ev’ry year? An’ “Swanee River”, too,

An’ “Buy a Broom”, an’ “Bonnie Doon”, sweet melodies an’ true?

Them songs would melt the coldest heart that ever filled a breast,

An’ bring it back to warmth again an’ give it peace an’ rest;

They’ve lived for years, will ever live to dear souls on their way

An’ bring to mind again the joys of some long, bygobe day.

“Twas wuth a ten mile journey, an’ the loss of one night’s sleep

To hear ol’ Mylo sing “Rocked in the Cradle of Deep”.

That went so low it seemed to me as Mylo’s deepest bass.

Then “Ruben, Ruben”, too was sung by My an’ Cynthy Jones,

Who made the people laugh by their peculiar ways an’ tones.

Then Mylo he would end the show in one triumphant din

By thundrin’ out “America”, the audience joinin’ in.

The curch would fairly groan with noise an’ sway to Mylo’s beat,

An’ ev’ry voice let loose to sing “My Country”, clear an’ sweet.

O, Gungawamp was mighty proud of ev’ry lad an’ lass

Who graduated year by year from Mylo’s singin’ class.

“                                                        “Do, re, me, fa, sol, la, ti, do,"

                                                         That’s how they started ev’ry year,

                                                         Each country lad an’ lass;

                                                         “Do ti, la, sol, fa, me, re, do,”

                                                         That’s how they made a grand success

                                                         Of Mylo Bates’ class.

Mar. 11, ‘10