'There'll Be No Tavern In This Town' March 14th 1998 First-nighters witness jolly merriment at Old Vic Town's founding is premise for unparalleled mirth By Wayne Larsen Presented as the primary entertainment in the course of a brightly-coloured evening called, for reasons left only to conjecture, 'Ta-ra-ra Boom De-ay', the unlikely circumstances s First-nighters witness jolly merriment at Old Vic Town's founding is premise for unparalleled mirth urrounding the founding of this burg provided a tuneful and gaily-rendered excuse to christen the freshly refurbished boards of that venerable and imposing edifice known to legions of adoring locals as Old Vic Hall. Titled, if memory serves, 'There'll Be No Tavern In This Town', the all-too-brief performance was greeted with the loudest and most vehement applause heard within those hallowed portals in a dog's age, notwithstanding the little-publicized fact that the majority of those who pranced merrily before the footlamps-rumoured to hold public office when not otherwise occupied-remain relatively unaccustomed to the scent of greasepaint. If the general consensus among the first-nighters is any indication, it was, for all intents and purposes, the most memorable evening in the theatre since the late J.W. Booth's unbilled walk-on in 'Our American Cousin' at the Ford. Although it could be said that much of the goings-on were not the result of over-the-top performances, a fair amount of scenery-chewing did occur, the main offenders in this case being Mr. Bowser and Mr. Trent in their respective roles of French farmer and senator-cum-reluctant mayor. Both gentlemen proved their mettle as comedians of the first order, playing their designated parts to the proverbial hilt and generating the lion's share of laughter in the process. Mr. Bowser, in particular, displayed such promise that one might not be remiss in stating that with practice he might one day carve for himself a successful career upon the musical stage. Peter Trent As for Mr. Trent, the actor who was also obliged to modestly acknowledge the enthusiastic calls of "Author! Author!" at the close of this small masterpiece, his turn as the blubbering Eustache Prud'homme was nothing short of a triumph of humourous pomposity. Due notice must also be given Mrs. Moscovitz, for her lack of lines was handsomely compensated by an admirable prowess at the ivories that carried the light musical interludes into which the ensemble saw fit to break at sporadic intervals throughout the performance. It also provided a seamless accompaniment to the strong and pleasing soprano of Mrs. Marks, who managed to turn many a head with her exuberant and witty parodies of familiar melodies. Also worthy of mention was Mrs. Lulham's well-received impersonation of Jas. K. Ward, which can only be described as a veritable coup of cross-gender casting, as well as the unlikely object of much innuendo within the context of the humourous narrative. In what amounted to supporting roles as the town's founding fathers, Messrs. Laidley, Bercovitz, Robertson, Thompson and Wright each made a valuable contribution to the whole, hitting their marks and delivering lines with such relish that in several instances one line was inadvertently missed by an audience still chuckling over a previous witticism. From the authentic and colourful costumes to the unusual yet entirely effective designation of the stage itself, this was a production of the highest order and its director, Mr. Hausvater, deserves no small degree of praise for mounting what shall no doubt be remembered for many years to come as an evening of unparalleled mirth and good-natured self-mockery. The only lamentable aspect of 'There'll Be No Tavern In This Town' is that there'll be no repeat performance in this town either, for, sadly, Friday's premier was also closing night. There shall be no extended run at Old Vic, nor shall it open next week in Cleveland, Ohio, or Butte, Montana, for that matter. As a result, there is no joy at Old Vic this week, perhaps just a few lingering echoes of Friday's laughter in the furthest, darkest corners of the great hall. THERE'LL BE NO TAVERN IN THIS TOWN (BEING A FANCIFUL ACCOUNT OF WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED THE 19TH OF FEBRUARY, 1874 WHILE GIVING BIRTH TO THE VILLAGE OF NOTRE DAME DE GRÂCE, LATER TO BECOME THE ILLUSTRIOUS CITY OF WESTMOUNT) By Peter F. Trent CAST (In order of appearance) Prospère Sauvage, farmer George Bowser Mrs Sauvage Karin Marks Emily, sister of Mrs Sauvage, piano player Sylvia Moscovitz Councillor James Kewley Ward, cotton/lumber merchant Cynthia Lulham Councillor Alexander Mills David Laidley Councillor John Snowdon, grain/feed/wood/coal mechant Herbert Bercovitz Councillor Joseph St-Germain, farmer Stuart Robertson Councillor William Rutherford, lumber merchant Tom Thompson John Dunlop, Esq., Secretary-treasurer and Legal Advisor James Wright Mayor Hon. Eustache Prud'homme, senator Peter Trent Citizens: Sandy Bolton, Beryl Bowser, Victor Drury, Virginia Elliott, Margot Hall, Diana Henry, Sue Khan, Judy Martin, Rosemary McMahon, Joan Winser. Staged by Alexandre Hausvater Induction Stage lights are off. Sauvage and Citizens greet audience and mingle with them. SAUVAGE [to audience, ad lib.] Attention. Mesdames et messieurs, remplir vos verres, SVP. Ladies and gentlemen, please charge your glasses - if your credit is good. Bon. First of all, welcome to my farm house. My name is Prospère Sauvage. The entertainment is about to begin. It will last for some time, so if you would like to sit down, please go up to my balcony [gestures to V.H. balcony]. We will start with a song that has become very popular in the last few years. Please listen attentivement. Otherwise, my wife, who will sing it for you, will be so hurt. Scene 1 The parlour in the farmhouse of Prospère Sauvage. Mrs Sauvage is singing, Emily accompanying her on the piano. Sauvage is standing up, watching them with pride. MRS SAUVAGE [singing] Once I was happy, but now I'm forlorn, Like an old coat that is tattered and torn; Left on this wide world to fret and to mourn, Betrayed by a maid in her teens. The girl that I loved, she was handsome, I tried all I knew, her to please, But I could not please her one quarter so well, Like that man upon the Trapeze. He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease, That daring young man on the flying Trapeze. His movements were graceful, all girls he could please, And my love he purloined away. SAUVAGE [to audience as the piano is being played quietly] C'est ma femme. Elle chante bien, non? Bon. Je me présente. En français. Je m'appelle Prospère Sauvage. J'suis fermier. J'habite le chemin de la Côte St-Antoine. Près de la rue Clarke. Bon. [Piano stops. Sauvage looks from side to side, lowering voice] Vous habitez pas loin d'ici, aussi? [Citizens say "oui!"] Well, today's an important date: 19th of February, 1874. Anno domino. You'll be the temoin of the creation of a new municipalité. C'est vrai! Il y a une gang de fous qui sont en train de fonder un nouveau village. Ici. Un village en pleine campagne! Imagine! They want to construire on our good land farm and orchards. Mais, je m'en fous. Car ces élus, they said they will pay me 50 piastres a year to use my house for Council rendezvous. That's with chauffage included, bien sûr. A bed chamber will become a Council chamber. My wife - she's anglaise - she's not too happy about it. So she and her sister - she's the one at the piano - they composed new words to the song. We'll sing it ensemble for you. [To Mrs Sauvage] We'll sing it ensemble for you. SAUVAGE and MRS SAUVAGE Once we were carefree, but now we are worn, Invaded by men who to our house are drawn. They blather forever while making us yawn: They'd better be good for the rent. The town they'll erect will be handsome, Yet it won't be us they will please, Merchants and brokers will move here in droves, Our land they will certainly seize. They give off hot air with the greatest of ease, Those boring old men always shooting the breeze. Our municipal council will do as they please, And that'll be the end of the farm. SAUVAGE [to audience] Why don't you sing it with us? My wife would be so pleased [Citizens hold up placards with the lyrics. Audience sings.] SAUVAGE [looking out the window] Stop! MRS SAUVAGE Why? I have a splendid second verse. Sauvage clamps hand over Mrs Sauvage's mouth and muffles piano keys. SAUVAGE Silence! Here comes the first councillor. The Council rendezvous starts any minute now. [To audience] I know why they're meeting. They've come to choose a mayor. Entre eux. This fellow is James Ward. Born on the Île of Man. That's in England somewhere. He fabricates coton and lumber. [To Ward] Bonjour M.Ward. Ça va ce soir? WARD Bonejower, Savage. Mrs Savage. Emily. Toot le mond on famille, ness pa? MRS SAUVAGE [ingratiatingly] Would you like to hear me sing? WAR D Why certainly. [Pompously] "music hath charms to soothe the savage breast". Emily and Mrs Sauvage look at each other and begin giggling. SAUVAGE Not now, my dear. [Ward, looking a little confused, goes next door.] Here comes the rest of them. [Says a few words to each councillor as they enter and go into next room. Meanwhile, they grumble and talk among themselves.] Ah, this is John Dunlop. He's secrétaire and avocat. He lives just up the road from me: number one Metcalfe Terrace - you know, just beyond the quarries. [Looking out of window again] Mais où est le sénateur Prud'homme? It's already past eight. Vous savez, he's always a bit slow Mondays. Likes to have a good time la fin de semaine, if you know what I mean. Eh bien, that's how the other half lives. Me, I'd better start listening to what's going on. [Listens in on them] Scene 2 George Bowser, David Laidley A room next door to the parlour in Prospère Sauvage's farmhouse. Council-members sit around a rustic deal table in Quebec-style ladderback chairs with rush seats. Two kerosene lanterns are lit on the table. There is a wash-stand in the corner. Dunlop sits at one end of the table, with ledger, quill pen and inkwell. Top hats are lined up on a pine chest of drawers. Walking canes are stuck in a brass tub. Sauvage is listening in. Everyone is fidgeting and talking. Finally, Sauvage snaps his fingers. Council-members beome immobile. SAVAGE [To audience, after pulling out watch] It's now 8:15....8:16. [Snaps fingers. Council-members begin moving and talking.] WARD [pulling out watch] Where's Prud'homme? The Honourable Eustache? MILLS [under his breath] Saint Eustache! Ha, ha! WARD ...I know he's often tardy, but, after all, he's now exactly 17 minutes late. But we can't start without him. SAUVAGE [to audience] That's Ward. Always got his knickers in a twist. In fact, entre nous, he likes wearing women's underthings. ST-GERMAIN Well, why can't we start? What's on the agenda? SAUVAGE St-Germain. Always writing about his garden in the Montreal Gazette. DUNLOP [drily] We have to elect a mayor. SAUVAGE [to audience] Ah, Dunlop - he's just re-tired MILLS What, you mean choose a mayor from among ourselves, just like that? What will the public say? I believe in contested elections. SAUVAGE [to audience] That's Mills. He got elected Councillor by acclamation. RUTHERFORD What will the public say? Why, they'll just applaud our good taste and expeditiousness. Besides, it's the way they do it in England. SAUVAGE [to audience] Rutherford. What does he know? He never got out of McGill. SNOWDON I bet in England, City Councils don't meet in a smelly old farmhouse. [Sauvage and Mrs Sauvage reacts] It's not even zoned for this use. Can you imagine the day when we want to put in a police station and fire house next door? The locals will vote against any zoning change. They'll be worried about clanging of fire alarms and police whistles and all. SAUVAGE [to audience] Snowdon. An apothecary who discovered how to bannir les cheveux gris. RUTHERFORD Well, we can always have Montreal provide fire services. VARIOUS What! Not on your life! Never!, etc. ST-GERMAIN While we wait for the Senator, can't we deal with other matters? How about the state of our cowpaths...I mean roads? DUNLOP All right. We have a number of petitions. Firstly, the residents of Côte St Antoine complaining of "inconveniences suffered from want of sidewalks". We also have complaints about people sliding down Mountain and Clarke Avenues. Then, a letter from a Mr Olivier Décarie calling the attention of the Council to the growth of noxious weeds and grasses. RUTHERFORD People want sidewalks? Well, let's give them the standard 32" sidewalk: [counts on fingers] Pine or hemlock. Three inches thick. Three planks wide. As far as the weeds are concerned, why don't they just spray some kind of poison on them. I understand the railways do it all the time. WARD [irritated] This is all well and good, but if Prud'homme doesn't get here in the next five minutes, we'll have to adjourn this meeting. We need quorum to chose a mayor. [Meaningfully] He'll be the late Senator Prud'homme in more than one sense. VARIOUS Let's get this over with. Who does he think he is? This is why I ran for Council? I could never work in groups. Etc. MRS SAUVAGE [rushing in] While you're waiting, I will sing for you. [Starts singing "Drink to me only with thine eyes". Sauvage runs in and grabs her, bringing her back] SAUVAGE Attends ma chérie. Wait until later. Then you can sing to me only. [Snaps fingers, Council freezes, Sauvage addresses audience] Finalement, here he comes. M. le sénateur Prud'homme. Mais c'est du bon monde, quand-même. Après tout, il était membre du premier sénat du Canada. En 1867. Son ancêtre - Louis Prud'homme - etait associé avec Samuel de Champlain. Louis était le premier brasseur à Montréal - bien avant M. Molson. [St-Germain burps] Mais M. Molson habitera jamais dans ce village. Mais, comme lui, M. le sénateur Prud'homme aime sa bière, c'est certain. Pas un prude, cet homme! [laughs uproariously, stopping the moment Prud'homme enters, humming] PRUD'HOMME Bonjour, Sauvage. Hello, my dear, dear Madame Sauvage. [Holds both hands, kissing one, she titters, Sauvage glowers] and my sweet, sweet Emily. [Emily fans herself furiously] MRS SAUVAGE [batting her eyelids] Senator, you appreciate my singing. [Suggestively] I can even do it a cappela. EMILY and PRUD'HOMME Oh? SAUVAGE What? You don't do it that way with me. [Clears throat] M. le sénateur is busy now. Va à la cuisine. [Mrs Sauvage remonstrates] S'il te plaît, chérie. [To audience] With M. Prud'homme, you have to watch out for your women! PRUD'HOMME [entering Council room] Sorry I'm late, everyone. I didn't have change at the toll-gate, then I had a devil of a time finding a spot to park my carriage. SAUVAGE [to audience] Probably stopped by the Bistro on the Avenue Greene. Council remains immobile. Prud'homme looks around in confusion. Finally, Sauvage snaps his fingers and everyone comes back to life. ST-GERMAIN Why didn't you use that new horse-car service? The Montreal City Passenger Railway Company. PRUD'HOMME Well, you know, I think it undermines the dignity of my office not to own a carriage. Taking the omibus is so, so common. MILLS [to Snowdon] Probably afraid of falling off the wagon. SNOWDON [to Mills] And taking a cab is rather hackneyed. RUTHERFORD [looking out window] I hope you won't get fined. Your horse is in a no-tethering zone. PRUD'HOMME No, some green-clad official from Montreal tied a V.I.P. sign to his tail. Besides, pretty soon we'll be able to fix our own tickets. Now, what are we supposed to be doing? ALL Elect a mayor! [Everyone looks around at each other.] PRUD'HOMME Oh, really? I should have read my agenda. Oh well, I don't want to be mayor, that's for certain. SAUVAGE [snaps fingers. An animated discussion ensues among members of Council, but without any sound. To audience] Mesdames et messieurs, je sais que ça va passer. Après des débats musclés, finalement, il y aura trois candidats. They are already two at the starting gate. Ward, who can't wait to be mayor. St-Germain, who is a - ah - dark horse. And some councillors are trying to convaincre le sénateur Prud'homme to run. He's a horse of a different collar. Ah, the first speech comes from Ward. So now a word from Ward [Snaps fingers.] WARD If elected, I'll pass a law to promote the better observance of Sunday and further the cause of temperance. I've got it all written down here. I call it [reading with relish] a by-law concerning Decency and Good Morals and Public Nuisances. [Clears throat] Article one says: "a) No Gambling Houses or house of ill fame shall be allowed to be kept within the limits of said municipality". And: "b) All cockfighting and dogfighting are hereby prohibited..." ST-GERMAIN I think dogs should be leashed. MILLS What about cocks? SNOWDON [slowly] I think that's covered in the first part. RUTHERFORD [to Ward] Now, how would you deal with that salacious picture framer and his Magnum Opus? ST-GERMAIN [butting in] If I'm elected mayor, I would make it an offence to post up indecent placards, paintings, drawings, words, or inscriptions upon houses, walls, or fences. RUTHERFORD [to St-Germain] Some cities have even declared war on graffitti. MILLS Where's Graffiti? [groans all around] RUTHERFORD What about the use of dynamite for excavating up on the hill? ST-GERMAIN If elected, I'd ban fire crackers in the vicinity of a building, grove or fence. WARD This is ridiculous. May I continue? "...Article two: No person shall make deposits of substances whence issue noxious gasses or odours, such as the contents of privies" ST-GERMAIN Does that apply to dogs? WARD [continuing. Standing up] "...Article three: No person shall drive faster than at an ordinary trot within a radius of half a mile from any church". SNOWDON What if you're late for church? MILLS Simple. You honk if you love Jesus. WARD [glaring at Mills] "...Article four: No person shall use profane Oaths and blasphemous and obscene language on roads or in squares" SNOWDON Unless, I suppose, you see a gambling house, and indecent placard, public bathing, fire crackers, deposits from privies, or speeding vehicles. PRUD'HOMME I know, you forgot something. Shouldn't we have a prohibition against females dressed in men's garb? Or how about banning aprons...in front yards. WARD [primly] Obviously, you are not taking this seriously. Some of us want to live in a God-fearing and decent community. Now, for example, [Looking at St-Germain] I would make it an offence to bathe or wash in public waters or in the open air. ST-GERMAIN I would install lampposts - at least 20 - all with the latest coal-oil lamps. WARD I would establish a police force and have it paid for with a Police Tax. ST-GERMAIN I would extend Sherbrooke Street right through our village. WARD I would ban sliding and tobogganing on public streets. ST-GERMAIN I would license dogs: one dollar for males. Two dollars for females. WARD I would ban horse racing on the Sabbath. ST-GERMAIN I would prohibit hogs, sheep, or poultry straying in public places. WARD [shouting] And I would prohibit the sale of all intoxicating liquors. PRUD'HOMME [in spite of himself] What? Silence SAUVAGE [snaps fingers] La, la, ils sont allés trop loin. Ces anglais; they drink like fishes, but want to pretend they are Simonne pûre. C'est pas de la démocratie, c'est de l'hypocrisie. Ecoutez, Mills is about to speak. He has a surprise for the rest of them. [Snaps fingers] MILLS No offence, but in view of the pretty lame choice so far, I propose Eustache Prud'homme as mayor. First [Looking at Ward] he is a man. And, second, he is also a senator. His thoughts are at least sometimes sober, even if they are secondary. And imagine his title: His Worship, the Honorable Eustache Prud'homme. [To Prud'homme] You would, of course, have to agree to enact all of the laudable legislation put forward by the others. WARD But his ancestors started Montreal's first brewery! Surely he would be against creating a dry village on the slopes of our majestic mountain? Wouldn't he be in favour of a wet mount? PRUD'HOMME Yes! I mean, no! Oh, I'd never be good as a mayor. Besides, I'm too young. Mayors are old fogies. After all, I was only born in 1818. And, you know, I'm a busy, busy man. I'm a gentleman farmer, a captain in the militia, a senator, and a member of the Legislative Council. According to the Gazette, I'm the last one to leave a party. [Pause] I think I'll just stay a councillor. I know, we can call ourselves aldermen. After all, I always said women like alder-men. MILLS But your village needs you! PRUD'HOMME I don't know. [Pause] How much does a mayor get paid, anyway? MILLS Well, nothing right now. But I'm sure it won't be long before Council will vote you a decent salary. PRUD'HOMME So, I wouldn't get paid. I have to swan around wearing striped trousers with a chain around my neck. I have to cut ribbons and kiss babies. What's next? Do I have to give blood? MILLS Oh, but you get to ride in Irish parades and open flower shows. You get to call in the army when there's too much snow. SNOWDON Just imagine! You'll be chief magistrate. Monarch of all you survey. You'll have a gavel and a big carved chair. They'll paint your portrait when you're gone, so you'll eventually be hung on the Council chamber wall. Well hung. RUTHERFORD You'll have lampposts outside your house. They'll get lit every night. MILLS [to Prud'homme] So will you. SNOWDON Think of the adulation. The young interns. Women love a man with power. PRUDHOMME Ah, women! All right, I'll run. But just for one year. I don't think mayors should stick around too long. DUNLOP That's settled then. Let's put it to the vote. Fill in your ballots and put them in the hat. SAUVAGE [snaps fingers, Council freezes. To audience] This is your village too. Who would you want as mayor? Ward? St-Germain? Senator Prud'homme? [Citizens raise placards in favour of one or another of the three candidates. Some shout their names and start arguing with each other. One even shouts "Prospère Sauvage!"] While Dunlop counts the votes, les candidats sont très nerveux. Gouttes de transpiration sur le front de Ward. St-Germain looks cool, but he's run out of booze.. Prud'homme, lui, s'en fiche comme l'an quarante. He's even lighting up a cigar. [Snaps fingers.] DUNLOP I now have the results. We have three candidates: Ward. St-Germain. Prud'homme. I have counted the ballots. Ward: one vote. St-Germain: one vote. Prud'homme: the rest of the votes. I declare Senator E. Prud'homme duly elected the first mayor of the village municipality of Notre Dame de Grâce. A FEW Hip hip hurrah! WARD [to St-Germain] You dolt! I would have won had you not decided in the last moment to run too. Besides, you stole my platform. ST-GERMAIN You want a platform? [gets on table] How about this one? MILLS Let's table that motion. SNOWDON But Ward has the floor. PRUD'HOMME Order! ST-GERMAIN [to Prud'homme] Oh, go pull your chain of office! WARD I demand the protection of the chair. ST-GERMAIN Here! [Sticks chair on Ward's head to the astonishment of all]. MILLS Next thing you know, he'll be striking a committee. SAUVAGE [rushing in] Time, gentlemen, please! I mean, ajournez, messieurs! Attention à mes meubles! PRUD'HOMME [to St-Germain] Joe, calm down. [To Ward] Jim, you can be mayor next time. I'll give you the name of my tailor. It'll certainly help. ALL Speech! Speech! PRUD'HOMME The future is bright for our little village. [ Emily starts playing the Battle Hymn of the Republic] One day, we'll have a huge bureaucracy, and an oratory with a pickled heart. We'll have a hockey team, an insectarium, and a deconstructing stadium. We'll have a gardener as mayor. [Music stops] SAUVAGE You've got the wrong city. Bruce StLouis & Wife PRUD'HOMME. Oh yes, you're right. The future is bright for our little village. [Music starts again] One day, we will change our name to something more euphonious...like Glen Royal. Or Avonmount. Westmount, even. We will be the first in Quebec to have a municipal library. We will be the first in Canada to have a City Manager. We will send maple syrup to the Queen. We will have dog runs. We will be populated by matrons. We'll have bilingual status. [Music stops] WARD What about female councillors? PRUD'HOMME Don't get carried away. MILLS Great speech! Long live Notre Dame de Grâce! Or Côte St Antoine! Or Westmount! Or whatever! [Ragged cheers] MRS SAUVAGE [from salon] Oh, your Worship! I have just the perfect song for you! Prudhomme starts to walk out WARD Wait! Wait! I want to get something off my chest. None of you voted for me, did you? [To Snowdon] You didn't, right? [To Rutherford] You didn't either. [Grabs him by the collar] RUTHERFORD Let's just say your hair shirt didn't fit too well. Besides, you just wanted to ban things. WARD That's not true. I also wanted to start a garden contest. SNOWDON You would be in favour of a community in bloomers. Or pistils at dawn. ST-GERMAIN What a sore loser! Real men accept defeat with grace. MILLS I prefer Denise with Grace. WARD But I would have been so decisive as mayor. I believe in affirmative action. ST-GERMAIN You are all talk and no action. You make a great case for a sound barrier. Piano starts to play "I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair" DUNLOP Speaking of needing a sound barrier, Mrs S. seems to be ready to sing once again. She obviously prefers Music Hall to City Hall. I must say, in spite of these rather informal surroundings, we have accomplished quite a bit today. RUTHERFORD Accomplished quite a bit? We made history! Three cheers for our new Council, our new mayor, and our new village! ALL Hip Hip Hurrah! Scene 3 Me Margaret Cuddihy Back in Sauvage's parlour. MRS SAUVAGE Now, who's going to clean up the mess? SAUVAGE I know, let's be democratique. Put it to the vote. [To Mrs Sauvage] I vote for you, ma chérie. EMILY [to Sauvage] And I vote for you. MRS SAUVAGE [to Sauvage] And I vote for you, too, my dear. SAUVAGE Wait a minute.... Prud'homme enters PRUD'HOMME J'ai besoin de quelque chose à boire. Puis ça presse. SAUVAGE Ça sera un honneur, votre honneur. [Serves him a tankard] PRUD'HOMME [drinks it down in one go. St-Germain burps] I needed that. I just got elected mayor. But the forces of Puritanism have won the day. There'll be no tavern in this town. MRS SAUVAGE Say, that sounds like a song. SAUVAGE, MRS SAUVAGE, and PRUD'HOMME There'll be no tavern in this town, in this town, On booze and trollops, we will frown, we will frown, No drinks of wine 'mid laughter free: It's all because, because of me! Fare thee well to Montrealers, And to bar-room caterwaulers, And remember that the best of friends must part, must part. Eschew, eschew, kind friends, eschew, yes, eschew, Each vice that might please you, please you, And close each house of ill-fame We'll build a road called Sherbrooke Street, Sherbrooke Street, With wooden sidewalks of four feet, four feet, You shall not drive at more than a trot As far as speeding: thou shalt not! Fare thee well to all you gamblers, Cockfighters, canine ramblers, And remember not to slide on public streets, public streets. Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu, yes, adieu, To smelly products of your loo, of your loo, These are the laws that I will have to pass, In Notre Dame de Grâce, de Grâce! SAUVAGE [to audience as the rest of the cast comes in one by one] Well, that's about it, mesdames et messieurs. Remember, these laws are not yet in force: so you can eat, drink, and be merry tonight. We'll have some dancing later on. And if you are lucky, my sister-in-law Emily - that's her at the piano - will conduct a sing-a-long. So join us. But before we say "au revoir", let's sing our new song together. [Placards come out. Audience and cast sing both verses of "There'll Be No Tavern in this Town.] [CURTAIN CALL] "Encore Encore ...Author! Author!"

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