There’s not many in tonight

After last week’s polar vortex, a week of thaw.

But it cools again.

A song from Toast of London captures the mood:

Here is an interpretive quandary. Does the song go like this?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

There is a chill within the air,
The still of the night;
The stalls and theatre, bare:
There’s not many in tonight.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Or like this?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

There is a chill within the air,
The still of the night;
The stalls and theatre bear [witness],
“There’s not many in tonight.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I ponder this, mustachioed, during bouts of sleeplessness.