Barefoot, pigeonbreasted, in lascar’s vest and trousers, apologetic toes turned in, opens his tiny mole’s eyes and looks about him dazedly, passing a slow hand across his forehead. Then he hitches his belt sailor fashion and with a shrug of oriental obeisance salutes the court, pointing one thumb heavenward. Him makee velly muchee fine night. He begins to lilt simply.

Li li poo lil chile. Blingee pigfoot evly night. Payee two shilly⁠ ⁠…

Unportalling.

Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo.

The wren, the wren, The king of all birds, Saint Stephen’s his day Was caught in the furze.