Can't youse see I'm tryin' to t'ink?

ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with same cynical amused
mockery.] Think! [The chorused word has a brazen metallic quality
as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a
general uproar of hard, barking laughter.]

VOICES--Don't be cracking your head wid ut, Yank.

You gat headache, py yingo!

One thing about it--it rhymes with drink!

Ha, ha, ha!

Drink, don't think!

Drink, don't think!

Drink, don't think!

[A whole chorus of voices has taken up this refrain, stamping on
the floor, pounding on the benches with fists.]

YANK--[Taking a gulp from his bottle--good-naturedly.] Aw right.
Can de noise. I got yuh de foist time. [The uproar subsides. A
very drunken sentimental tenor begins to sing:]

"Far away in Canada,
Far across the sea,