Luyện nghe bài hát A British Tar

Ralph, & Carpenter.
A tar is a soaring soul,
As as a mountain bird,
His energetic fist be ready to resist
A word.

His nose pant
and his lip curl,
His should flame
and his should furl,
His should heave
and his should glow,
And his be ever ready
for a blow.

Chorus.
His should pant
and his lip curl,
His should flame
and his brow furl,
His should heave
and his heart glow,
And his be ever ready
for a blow.

Ralph, & Carpenter.
His eyes flash with an inborn fire,
His brow with be wrung;
He never should bow
to a frown,
Or the tang of a tongue.

His foot stamp, and his throat should growl,
His should twirl, and his face should scowl;
His eyes flash, and his breast protrude,
And this be his customary attitude.

Chorus.
His foot should stamp, and his throat growl,
His hair twirl, and his face should scowl;
His should flash, and his breast protrude,
And this be his customary attitude,
His
His
His attitude. (pose)

(All dance off excepting Ralph, who remains, pensively against bulwark.)

(Enter from cabin)

Josephine.
It is useless — Sir Joseph's nauseate me. I know
that he is a truly great and man, for he told me so
himself, but to me he tedious, fretful, and dictatorial.
Yet his must be a mind of no common order, or he not
dare to teach my dear to dance a hornpipe on the cabin
table. (Sees Ralph.) Rackstraw! (Overcome by emotion.)

Ralph.
Aye, lady -- no other than poor Rackstraw!

Josephine.
(aside) How my heart beats! (aloud) And why poor,

Ralph.
I am poor in the essence of happiness, lady --— only in
never-ending unrest. In me there a combination of
antithetical elements which are at eternal war one another.
Driven by objective influences — thither by subjective
emotions — wafted one into blazing day, by mocking
hope — plunged the next into the darkness of tangible
despair, I am but a living ganglion of antagonisms. I
I make myself clear, lady?

Josephine.
Perfectly. (aside) His simple goes to my heart. Oh, if I
dared — but no, the thought is madness! (aloud) Dismiss
foolish fancies, torture you but needlessly. Come, make one
effort.

Ralph.
(aside) I — one. (aloud) Josephine!

Josephine. (indignantly)
Sir!

Ralph.
Aye, even though Jove's armoury were launched at the
of the audacious mortal lips, unhallowed by relationship,
dared to breathe that word, yet would I breathe it once,
and then perchance be silent evermore. Josephine, in one
I will concentrate the hopes, the doubts, the anxious fears
of six weary months. Josephine, I am a British sailor, and I you!

Josephine.
Sir, audacity! (aside) Oh, my heart, my beating heart! (aloud) This
unwarrantable on the part of a common sailor
(aside) Common! oh, the of the word! (crossing, aloud) Oh, sir,
you forget the in our ranks.

Ralph.
I nothing, haughty lady. I love you desperately, my life is in
your hand — I lay it at your feet! Give me hope, and what I in
education and accomplishments, that I will endeavour to acquire.
Drive me to despair, and in death alone I look for consolation. I
am proud and cannot stoop to implore. I have and I wait your
word.

Josephine.
You shall not long. Your proffered love I haughtily reject.
Go, sir, and learn to cast your on some village maiden in
your own poor rank — they be lowered before your captain's
daughter.