Something is wrong with the Vagabond. He has not been the same lately and he cannot figure out just what is the matter. It isn't Spring, or Christmas, or Thanksgiving. Vag's been different lately that's all.
For instance Vag's reflections, stimulated somewhat by the Radcliffe girls at a joint Glee Club rehearsal, the other night proved to be more painful than pleasant. It all began when he alone held over a note two beats that was staccato for the rest of the chorus. Woody looked up; Vag joined the others in looking around and leered scornfully at the innocent man sitting next to him, then resumed singing. This time he would pay attention to the music, he thought. What was he singing for if he kept thinking about other things? After all, the "Missa Solemnis" was the greatest choral piece, so Woody said; at least one of the greatest ever created. Yes, Beethoven was undoubtedly a great composer, even if he did have syphilis. But he was not as prolific as some, such as John Sebastian Bach, who had a great many children. By the law of averages his children must have been about half boys and half girls, and some of these girls probably remained single all their lives. How horrible! But some must have been O.K. like that soprano over there, third row up and two seats in.
Vag sang a short solo. Woody stopped and looked around towards the offender. There was no mistaking him this time. The girls giggled. Oh Vag, what has become of thee?