You don’t expect a man to never remember more than the first three lines of the first verse, and to keep on repeating these until it is time to begin the chorus. You don’t expect a man to break off in the middle of a line, and snigger, and say, it’s very funny, but he’s blest if he can think of the rest of it, and then try and make it up for himself, and, afterwards, suddenly recollect it, when he has got to an entirely different part of the song, and break off, without a word of warning, to go back and let you have it then and there. You don’t⁠—well, I will just give you an idea of Harris’s comic singing, and then you can judge of it for yourself.

Standing up in front of piano and addressing the expectant mob. “I’m afraid it’s a very old thing, you know. I expect you all know it, you know. But it’s the only thing I know. It’s the Judge’s song out of Pinafore ⁠—no, I don’t mean Pinafore ⁠—I mean⁠—you know what I mean⁠—the other thing, you know. You must all join in the chorus, you know.”