The African Queen

Bread of heaven

Bread of heaven

In this barren wilderness

Song of praises

Song of praises

I will ever give to thee

Be the Lord my righteousness

Song of praises

Song of praises

I will ever give to thee...

Death of death and hell's...

Song of praises

Song of praises

I will ever give to thee

When I tread the verge of Jordan

Song of praises

I will ever give to thee

Amen.

Amen

- Hello, Reverend.

- Mr. Allnut.

- Here's your mail.

- Thank you.

Sorry I'm late, but one thing and another

kept me in Limbasi.

You know how it is. Maybe you don't.

- Good morning, Mr. Allnut.

- Good morning, miss.

Splendid, they've come at last.

My rose trees.

- You'll stay for tea?

- Don't mind if I do.

I sure need something in my condition.

I'm in for a going over

when I get back to the mine.

Them Belgians are calling me

all the names they can think of,

but I don't mind being cussed out

in a foreign language.

They won't fire me.

Ain't nobody in Africa except yours truly

can get up a good head of steam

on the old African Queen.

You take sugar,

I seem to remember, Mr. Allnut?

That's right, miss. Couple of spoonfuls.

And milk?

That's right, miss.

- Bread and butter?

- That's right, miss.

- Brother.

- Thank you.

Just listen to this stomach of mine.

The way it sounds,

you'd think I had a hyena inside me.

Do have some more

bread and butter, Mr. Allnut.

Thanks, miss. I... I don't mind if I do.

Excuse me.

Queer thing, ain't it? What I mean is,

what do you suppose makes

a man's stomach carry on like this?

Try a rock cake, Mr. Allnut.

No, thanks, miss.

Herbie Morton's a bishop.

- Who's that, dear?

- Dear, surely you remember Herbie.

Blond, a bit younger

than I am, ruddy-faced.

He sang a solo

at the commemoration concert.

Holy, Holy, I think it was.

I think I remember. It was so long ago.

- He's a bishop now.

- Splendid.

Yes, I'd say Herbie was

a bit younger than me,

four or five years. Surprising, really.

He wasn't up to much as a student,

didn't have more than his share

of the social graces.

Then, of course, he married well.

Yes. That manufacturer's widow.

What was his name, Griggs?

Briggs. That was it. Alfred Briggs.

Soap flakes, I think. Mrs. Alfred Briggs.

Not to take anything away from Herbie.

I'm delighted for him, naturally.

Of course.

Ain't a thing I can do about it.

Itwas Holy, Holy.

More tea, Mr. Allnut?

Thank you, no, miss.

I reckon I'd better be shoving off

if I'm to get back to the mine

before tomorrow night.

- Don't hurry, Mr. Allnut.

- Do stay for dinner.

Thanks just the same.

I probably won't be coming around

this way for a couple of months.

Really? Well, what about our mail?

Don't look like there's going

to be any mail for a while.

Why not?

- The Germans will hold it up.

- Why, in heaven's name?

- On account of the war.

- War? Where, Mr. Allnut?

- Europe.

- Indeed. Between whom?

Germany, England...

- England?

- England?

- That's right.

- You really mean war?

Yeah, that's what they tell me.

Germans claim the British started it,

British claim it was the Germans.

Well, what do you know about it?

What's happened?

Well, let's see. I...

That's all I can remember.

Yes, the French are in it,

and all them little countries.

Austria, Hungary, Belgium, Spain.

I forget who's with who.

- Is that all you can tell us?

- That's all I know.

I'll see what I can find out

when I get to Limbasi.

Well, I'm wondering

what our position will be. Enemy aliens.

What harm could anybody do

the Germans

in this godforsaken place?

God has not forsaken

this place, Mr. Allnut,

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