Volume 158 — THE TALE OF THE TUNEFUL TUB.
Reading edition
["Why do so many people sing in the bathroom?... The note is struck for them by the running water. While the voice sounds resonantly in the bath-room it is not half so fine and inspiring when the song is continued in the dressing-room. The reason is that the furniture of the dressing-room tends to deaden the reverberations."—Prof. W.H. Bragg on "The World of Sound."]
When to my morning tub I go, With towel, dressing-gown and soap, Then most, the while I puff and blow, My soul with song doth overflow (Not unmelodiously, I hope). The plashing of the H. and C. Castalian stimulus affords; I reach with ease an upper G And, like the wild swan, carol free The gamut of my vocal chords. And when, my pure ablutions o'er, The larynx fairly gets to work, Amid the unplugged water's roar I caper, trolling round the floor, In tones as rich as Thomas Burke. But in my dressing-room's retreat My native wood-notes wilt and sag; Not there those raptures I repeat; My bellow now becomes a bleat (For reasons, ask Professor Bragg). So, Ruth, if song may find a path Still through thy heart, be listening by The bathroom while I take my bath; But leave before the aftermath, Nor while I'm dressing linger nigh. On the acoustic side, I fear, My chest of drawers is quite a "dud;" The chairs would silence Chanticleer, Nor would I have you overhear When I have lost my collar-stud.