Reggie Upton was out flanneuring (or flanneling, as Philomena Bucket referred to it). Or, at least, he would have been, had he not decided to pay a call on the Middlestreets, for in order to flaneur properly there should be no definite destination in mind. Since leaving The Squid and Teapot, Bartholomew and Ariadne had moved into the old Blomqvist house, a residence that came complete with its own guardian, a Tomte, who attended to all of the mundane, daily jobs that any self-respecting tenant would eschew – or at least, that was the idea. It seems that the Tomte had taken exception to the fact that neither Bartholomew, nor his wife, had a drop of Swedish blood in their veins, and had decided to go into retirement, in protest. That was why, when reaching the front door, Reggie found Bartholomew busily painting both it, and himself, in the process. He didn’t seemed too bothered, however, as he splashed the paint about liberally, singing to himself as he did so.

 “Goodbye Hopeless I must leave you,

For it’s time for me to go. I won’t miss your dismal sea-views,  And the cold Atlantic blow.

No more trudging over headland In the fog and driving rain.

So farewell, Hopeless I must leave you,

Goodbye Hopeless, Maine.”

 “Why, that tune takes me back,” said Reggie, waving his sword stick like a conductor’s baton.  “I haven’t heard it sung for years, though the words have changed.”  

“I wouldn’t have thought so,” said Bartholomew. “That song was composed here on Hopeless by one of the few people to escape from the island. My grandfather taught it to me and he learned it from the man who wrote it – a fellow called Colonel Ruscombe-Green.”  

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Reggie. “Not Mad Jack Ruscombe-Green? I knew the chap in Africa, during the Boer War. He was a lowly lieutenant in those days… he made colonel, eh? How the devil did he get here?”

“Well, it might not be the same man – although it’s not a common name, so you might be right. But I can promise you that he definitely wrote the song,” insisted Bartholomew.  

“Ruscombe-Green was a splendid chap, but always a bit of a rogue,” smiled Reggie. “I wouldn’t put it past him to pass that tune off as his own. The words must be his, though. There aren’t too many songs knocking around about Hopeless, Maine.”  

“Then what are the words?” asked Ariadne, walking through the doorway and narrowly avoiding getting paint on her apron.  “Come on, Brigadier, give us a song.”  

Reggie beamed. He had a fine baritone voice, and he knew it. The old soldier never missed a chance to give his tonsils an airing.  “The true title is ‘Goodbye Dolly Gray,” he said, “and there is a short verse that precedes the chorus that Mad Jack so casually borrowed… ” And then he closed his eyes and began to sing.

 “I have come to say goodbye, Dolly Gray.

It’s no use to ask me why, Dolly Gray.

There’s a murmur in the air, you can hear it everywhere,

It’s time to do and dare, Dolly Gray – so

Goodbye Dolly I must leave you,

Though it breaks my heart to go.

Something tells me I am needed At the front to fight the foe.

See, the soldier boys are marching

And I can no longer stay.

Hark, I hear the bugle calling,

Goodbye Dolly Gray.”

The account of Colonel Ruscombe-Green leaving the island is recounted in the tale entitled ‘Goodbye Hopeless‘. Should you wish to hear the full, and original,  version of ‘Goodbye Dolly Gray’, below is a link to a splendid rendition by Mr Edward Woodward.