Forty Four Tonnes

##### Written by Jason

"... Though primarily noted for its celebratory chorus and melody, Forty Four Tonnes should indeed be praised as a reliable means by which those of the criminal persuasion might communicate surreptitiously during feasts and similar events. Being a lesser known variation of the vastly more popular 54 Tuns (itself a more dour affair whose lyrics in the context of the Underworld betray the declaration of a "party coming to halt" - a criminal venture failing in spectacular, oftentimes public fashion, discussed later in this very chapter), Forty-Four Tonnes remains esoteric enough to retain its inherently coded nature, and yet popular enough to rouse non-essential participants, such as onlookers, attendees, fellow ne'er-do-wells who are not privy to the conversation, etc., to raucous song. These twin applications are nonetheless worth mentioning here.

The song is most commonly employed as a means of interference, as the nature of the tune and its bawdy lyrics lend themselves to drunken screlching, to a volume which serves to insure confidentiality. Numerous times throughout the present course of study, I have observed groups of smugglers, pirates, prostitutes, and other seedy individuals begin this song and swiftly allow the crowd to finish it out whilst they huddled 'round their table to speak in hushed tones. This means of distraction might be viewed as inelegant but I find it to be frightfully effective.

However, there exists a secondary, nuanced application that has gone unnoted in all preceding Citadel record. Indeed, the stanzas themselves can serve to communicate clear albeit highly specific messages, whose context would only matter to those aware of the situation being referenced to. In particular, I witnessed a man place a golden dragon beneath his tankard and stand with his right hand upon its handle, hiding the coin. He began the song in such a manner but mirrored the lyric "I've sat at my table as Stormer's relate to/a poor Dornish Bastard some terrible dread..." promptly sitting down and stilling himself after the stanza was finished. I noted several interested persons who approached him during the song, and by its end, he had given the dragon to a man who I'd assumed was a smuggler.

In examining the public events which followed this incident, I found that some time prior, a Dornish Merchant of ill repute had been strangled to death with butcher's twine by an unknown assailant, presumed to be a business partner of his, in some capacity. It was by this time that I also learned of the name Gerrold Cleaver, who so happened to leave aboard The Silvered Stallion (a noted pirate vessel) some 3 days prior to my questioning..."

- An Excerpt from "Amidst the Docks: An Account of Various Practices and Esoterica Exercised by the Sailors of Oldtown" by Maester Symon

LYRICS:

My Lords and my Ladies, you care for us greatly,

Your guests upon this blessed day,

To gift us a bounty of drink, oh so stately,

So we might rue when we all must away

But ma'ams and good sers, I question thy judgement

For we're but shy of 20 score,

And while we do thank you for tonnes of refreshment,

What are we to do with 44?

Forty four tonnes, oh, forty four tonnes

Of finest ale to pass around

(Aye) Forty four tonnes, yes, forty four tonnes

'Til half of us lie with the rest on the ground

The Westerman's palate agrees wi'the gallons

O'wine his southern neighbors produce,

Yet four tankards in, and he's lost his medallions

And jewelry - the man and his fortunes unloose

A Northwoman's bodice is built fiercely honest

Consumption of beer is no task for her maw

So while ye may laugh, boy, you'll soon be astonished

The view from the floor will just leave you in awe

Forty four tonnes, oh, forty four tonnes

Of finest ale to pass around

(Aye) Forty four tonnes, yes, forty four tonnes

'Til half of us lie with the rest on the ground

I've sat at my table as Stormers relate to

A poor Dornish bastard some terrible dread,

I nurse at the throbbing my head doth elate to

As Dornishman's eyes roll back into his head

A Vale-r, his sword at his side, is now blushing,

It seems that a Reacher girl's taken wi'him

But while I do see one hand used for his hushing

I only can dream where th'other hand's jimmed,

Forty four tonnes, oh, forty four tonnes

Of finest ale to pass around

(Aye) Forty four tonnes, yes, forty four tonnes

'Til half of us lie with the rest on the ground

An Ironborn cries out, "We're halfway through drunking!"

While I've set mine eyes on a maiden so fair

Her face is a portrait, she's right for the plunking

I'll just have to set my feet - there goes my chair

I crash to the ground, my feet all a-tremble

I haggard my way to the lady for thrills

I ask for her hand, and our minds disassemble

Our lusts bid me lay on her bountiful hills

Forty four tonnes, oh, forty four tonnes

Of finest ale to pass around

(Aye) Forty four tonnes, yes, forty four tonnes

'Til half of us lie with the rest on the ground

We wake before sunrise, the Hall is now fully

Replete with the guests' and the good nobles' snores

I look to my partner and, fortunes unruly!

I've bedded the wife of my Lord on the floors

Now gentle folk, tell me, in my good position,

Would you have done the same as I did

And took to the sea on a maddening mission

To sail for Essos and stay jolly hid?

I speak in good conscious, that night does escape me

Yea now, to my mind new spectors assail

Though I may not know what transpired then, truly,

I know that I drank my full share of the ale.

Forty four tonnes, oh, forty four tonnes

Of finest ale to pass around

(Aye) Forty four tonnes, yes, forty four tonnes

'Til half of us lie with the rest on the ground (Once more!)

Forty four tonnes, oh, forty four tonnes

Of finest ale to pass around

(Aye) Forty four tonnes, yes, forty four tonnes

'Til half of us lie with the rest on the ground!