Sometimes, words are superfluous (except for the lyrics of course).

X:62 % number
T:Ode by a Christmas Pudding at Sea % title
C:Myscha Aiken % composer
O:Lyric by Arthur Lockyer % origin.
M:C % meter
L:1/4 % length of shortest note
Q: % tempo
K:G % key
V:1 % voice 1
"D7"z3 D | "G"G G "D7"F A | "G"G G "D7"D D | "G"G G "D7"F A | "G"G2 G D |
w:To all you pud-dings now on shore I write to give a no-tion of
"G"G G "D7"F A | "G"G G "D7"D D | "G"G G "D7"F A | "G"G2 G B/B/ |
w:what mis-haps there are in store for pud-dings born on O-cean; it_
"C"c c e c | "G"B B d B/B/ | "D7"A G F E | "D7"F E D D/D/ |
w:blew a gale from sou-sou-west but the skip-per's wife she did her best as she
"C"E E/E/ "D7"F F/F/ | "G"G G "C"c c/c/ | "G"B G "D7"A F | "G"G3 z |]
w:knea-ded the dough on her own sea-chest with a fal-lal-lal-lal-la!
W:
W:The vessel gave a lurch, a wave
W:right down the hatchway came;
W:the skipper's wife stood stout and brave,
W:I wish I'd done the same;
W:for I roll'd in a fright along the floor,
W:and the skipper coming in at the door
W:gave me a kick, which my jacket tore, with a fal-lal lal-lal la
W:
W:His good wife gathered up the bits
W:and put my limbs together;
W:says she "I must have lost my wits
W:to cook in such foul weather;
W:but sailor boys they love good cheer
W:and Christmas comes but once a year,
W:so I won't be beat, I'll persevere", with a fal-lal lal-lal la
W:
W:The galley fire burnt bright and clear
W:as she put me in the pot;
W:Thinks I "it suits me being here
W:I feel so jolly hot".
W:But a great green sea burst over the deck,
W:and I fancied myself a perfect wreck,
W:in cold salt water up to my neck! with a fal-lal lal-lal la
W:
W:Cries cook "The pudding's surely spoiled!"
W:"No! No!" says the skipper's wife,
W:"That Christmas pudding shall be boiled
W:if I sacrifice my life!"
W:With her own fair hands she lit the fire
W:and though the waes rose higher and higher
W:at last she accomplished her desire, with a fal-lal lal-lal la
W:
W:And here they are, these sailor boys,
W:all full of mirth and glee;
W:They sit in a ring with lots of noise
W:and they're going to eat poor Me!
W:When smash! there comes a roaring squall,
W:a lurch, and into the scuppers fall
W:sailor boys, Christmas pudding and all, with a fal-lal lal-lal la-

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