Salvatore Massara recovered, in America, a very intriguing document: the score and text of a ballad Irving Berlin dedicated to Dorando Pietri after his ill-fated olympic race (London, 1908), at the end of which he was disqualified for having being helped across the finish line. Irving Berlin, a pseudonim of Israel Balin, was from Siberia, the son of Jewish immigrants. He died in New York in 1989, at the enviable age of 101. He composed more than a thousand songs, a few of which became very popular.
By Irving Berlin
I feel a much a bad, like anything
All the night I nunga canna sleep
It's a my pizon Pasquale
He say we take da car
And see Dorando race a "Long - a ship"
Just like da sport, I sell da barber shop
And make da bet Dorando he's a win
Then to Madeesa Square, Pasquale and me go there
And just a like a dat, da race begin.
Dorando! Dorando! He run - a, run - a, run - a
Run like anything
One - a, two - a hundred times around da ring
I cry, "Please - a nunga stop!"
Just then, Dorando he's a drop!
Good - bye, poor old barber shop
It's no fun to lose da mon
When de sun - of - a - gun no run
Dorando, He's good - for not!
Dorando, he's a come around next day
Say, "Gentlemen, I wanna tell - a you
It's a one - a bigga shame
I forgot da man's a - name
Who make me eat da Irish beef - a stew
I ask - a him to give me da spagett
I know it make me run a - quick - a - quick
But I eat da beef - a stew, And now I tell - a you
Just like da pipps it make me very sick."
Dorando! Dorando! He run - a, run - a, run - a
Run like anything
One - a, two - a hundred times around da ring
