PICNIC AND HAYRACK FOLLIES, CLOSE HARMONY, AND DARN FOOL DITTIES
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(Contents)
SUCKING CIDER THROUGH A STRAW
DID YOU EVER, EVER, EVER?
I WAS BORN ALMOST TEN THOUSAND YEARS AGO
GO GET THE AX
ABALONE
IN DE VINTER TIME
CIGARETTES WILL SPOIL YER LIFE
MARY HAD A WILLIAM GOAT
I WISH I WAS A LITTLE BIRD
OLD ADAM
THE HORSE NAMED BILL
CRAZY SONG TO THE AIR OF DIXIE
A BOY HE HAD AN AUGER
ABDUL, THE BULBUL AMEER
GREENS
ANIMAL FAIR
CALLIOPE
SI HUBBARD
Music arr. by Marwn Lychenheim; Alfred G. Wathall
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SUCKING CIDER THROUGH A STRAW
H. Luke Stancil heard this from old men, his neighbors, in the mountains of Pickens County Georgia. And Jess Ricks of Long Island heard it in Taylorville, Illinois, as a boy, 11. W. Gordon surmises it may be early minstrel. . . . The syllable "ci" in "cider" is drawn out as if to indicate a prolonged sip.
1 The prettiest girl
That ever I saw,
Was sucking cider
Through a straw.
2. I told that gal
I didn't see how
She sucked the cider
Through a straw.
3. And cheek by cheek
And jaw by jaw,
We sucked that cider
Through that straw.
4. And all at once
That straw did slip;
I sucked some rider
From her lip.
5 And now I've got
Me a mother-in-law
From sucking cider
Through a straw.
DID YOU EVER, EVER, EVER?
A children's game rhyme, for counting out and finding who's going to be "It," is said to be as old as "eeny meeny miny mo" or "monkey, monkey, bottle of beer, how many monkeys are there here?"
Did you ever, ever, ever,
In your leaf, life, loaf,
See the deevel, divil, dovol,
Kiss his weef, wife, woaf ?
No, I never, never, never,
In my leaf, life, loaf,
Saw the deevel, divil, dovol,
Kiss his weef, wife, woaf.
I WAS BORN ALMOST TEN THOUSAND YEARS AGO
Folk lore tells of giants and long-lived men. On far travels they saw and heard much. . . . Also hoary legends have dealt with the Champion Liar. . . . We have in this instance a vest pocket encyclopedia, an outline of history with numerous references to picturesque personages.. . . It packs a wicked lot of biography.
I WAS BORN ALMOST TKX THOIS \NI> YKARS AGO
1 I was bom almost ten thousand years ago,
And there's nothing in the world that I don't know;
I saw Peter, Paid and Moses,
Playing ring-around-the-roses
And I'm here to lick the guy what says 'taint so.
I saw Satan when he looked the garden o'er,
Saw Adam and Eve driven from the door,
And behind the bushes peeping,
Saw the apple they were eating,
And I'll swear that I'm the guy what ate the core.
3 I saw Jonah when he embarked within the whale,
And thought he'd never live to tell the tale.
But old Jonah had eaten garlic
And he gave the whale a colic,
So he coughed up and let him out o' jail.
4 I saw Samson when he laid the village eold,
Saw Daniel tame the lions in the hold.
And helped build the Tower of Babel,
Up as high as they were able,
And there's lots of other things 1 haven't told.
5 I taught Solomon his little A-B-C's,
I helped Brigham Young to make Limburger cheese,
And while sailing down the bay
With Methusaleh one day,
I saved his flowing whiskers from the bree/e
6 Queen Elizabeth she fell in love with me
We were married in Milwaukee secretly,
But I schemed around and shook her,
And I went with General Hooker
To shoot mosquitoes down in Tennessee.
7 I remember when the country had a king,
I saw Cleopatra pawn her wedding ring,
And I saw the flags a-flying
When George Washington stopixnl lying,
On the night when Patti first began to sing.
GO GET THE AX
A bob-haired blond girl with a dirty face stood on a downtown street corner in Chicago singing this song; she wore green goggles and held out a tin cup to passers-by; she was being initiated. . . . We have heard the piece sung and giggled. ... As to gigglers we quote Cherubini, "The only thing worse than one flute is two flutes."
1 Peepin' through the knot-hole
Of grandpa's wooden leg.
Who'll wind the clock when I am gone?
Go get the ax
There's a flea in Lizzie's car,
For a boy's best friend is his mother.
2 Peepin' through the knot-hole
Of grandpa's wooden leg,
Why do they build the shore so near the ocean?
Who cut the sleeves
Out of dear old daddy's vest,
And dug up Fido's bones to build the sewer?
3 A horsey stood around,
With his feet upon the ground,
Oh, who will wind the clock when I am gone?
Go get the ax,
There's a fly on Lizzie's ear,
But a boy's best friend is his mother.
4 I fell from a window,
A second-story window,
I caught my eyebrow on the window-sill.
The cellar is behind the door,
Mary's room is behind the ax,
But a boy's best friend is his mother.
ABALONE
Monterey is a California town of Spanish streets lined with houses of a time when Proud Spain ruled the West Coast. Tourist cars run to the House Where Robert Louis Stevenson Lived. In the harbor one may see Italian fishermen mending nets, putting out to sea, coming home with toll taken from deep waters. And roundabout the pyramids of aba lone shells are stacked high. It is a world capital of abalone. At the lunch counters nbalone is a favorite dish, a nutritious mollusk. His shell makes shirt buttons by the carload. . . . From Monterey we go to Carmel-By-The-Sea, past cypress trees, tough twisted torsoes lashed by long winds, shajx^s of storm transfixed with a momentary peace, a picture for pilgrims. . . Then at Carmel we may hear Abalone Song, its stanzas chiefly a bequest of George Sterling of San Francisco. . . . Beach fire singers have flung it with laughter at goblins of the half moon, the rising full moon, and the waning silver crescent.
1 In Carmel Bay the people say,
We feed the Lazzaroni
On caramels, and cockle-shells
And hunks of abalone.
2 O, some folks boast of quail on toast,
Because they think it's tony;
But my tom-cat gets nice and fat
On hunks of abalone.
3. He hides in caves, beneath the waves,
His ancient patrimony:
Race suicide will ne'er betide
The fertile abalone.
4 I telegraph my better half
By Morse or by Marconi
But when in need of greater speed
I send an abalone.
5 Some folks say that pain is real
And some say that it's phoney;
But as for me, when I can't agree,
I cat an abalone.
6 Our naval hero, best of all,
His name was Pauley Joney;
He sailed the seas as he darn pleased,
But he never ate abalone.
IN DE VINTER TIME
This is sung by superincumbent cucumbers in Iowa and elsewhere. We have it from students and faculty members of Cornell College. The tempo is mazurka and came with Polish and Czekoslovak emigration to the Corn Belt.
In de vinter, in de vinter-time,
Ven de vin' blows on dc vindpw-pane.
An' de vimnien, in de vaud'vil
Ride de velocipede in de vestibule,
All, vimmens! Ah, mens!
CIGARETTES WILL SPOIL YER LIFE
Two newspapermen, working for the Boston Post, took a poor poet around the town in a motor car, showing him Faneuil Hall, Bunker Hill, Charlestown Jail, Harvard University. They made inquiries, the poet gave guarded replies, but was twice caught napping. They wrote notes for an interview. Then they fed the poet and sang this modern Boston ditty.
Cigarettes will spoil yer life,
Ruin yer health and kill yer baby,
Poor little innocent child.
MARY HAD A WILLIAM GOAT
We have heard of a man who bet he could eat two dozen raw oysters. Before putting up the money he excused himself, left the room, came back and won the bet. "But why did you leave the room?" he was asked. He replied, "I went out and ate two dozen raw oysters to make sure I could do it." Then they all joined hands and sang a tune that used to have words about Mary and her little lamb.
Mary had a William goat, William goat, William goat,
Mary had a William goat, his stomach lined with zinc.
One day he ate an oyster can, oyster can, oyster can,
One day he ate an oyster can, and a clothesline full of shirts.
Oh, th." shirts can do no harm inside, harm inside, harm inside,
Shirts can do no harm inside, but the oyster can.
I WISH I WAS A LITTLE BIRD
Suppose a bashful girl and a backward young man are lonesome at a party or picnic. Can they do better than to sing this just to see how it goes as a duet? . . . The spoken line can be varied to " But I don't see how you expect me to stay here deserted, forlorn, isolated, eating my heart out, all by myself." ... A Hudson river steamboat deck favorite on moonlight nights.
. . . Text and tune from Magda Brooks of New Paltz, New York.
1 I wish I was a little bird,
I'd fly up in a tree.
I'd sit and sing my sad little song,
But I can't stay here by myself!
2 I wish I was a little fish,
I'd swim way down in the sea.
I'd sit and sing my sad little song,
But I can't stay here by myself!
OLD ADAM
Sympathy for The First Man is here. . . . College girls sing it. from the State Teachers College at Harrisonburg. Virginia.
1 I'm so sorry for old Adam,
Just as sorry as can be;
For he never had no mammy
For to hold him on her knee.
2 For he never had no childhood,
Playin' round the cabin door,
And he never had no daddy
For to tell him all he know.
3. And I've always had the feelin'
He'd a let that apple be,
If he'd only had a mammy
For to hold him on her knee.
THE HORSE NAMED BILL
The tempo for this song is indicated as "with lucid intervals if possible." It is a highbrow folk song disbursed in many places where the higher learning is sought. The text is from Bed Lewis of Sauk Center, Minnesota, who got the last verse from George Sterling of San Francisco, and one or two other verses from an Englishman in Italy returning from a cruise to Bombay. On the same boat was a rah-rah boy from Walla Walla, Washington, who asked the Englishman, "What Is a caterpillar?" and answering his own riddle, said, "A caterpillar is a worm in a raccoon coat going for a college education." Also he told the Englishman, " Walla Walla is named twice for the sake of those who didn't hear the first time."
THE HORSE NAMED BILL
1 Oh, I had a horse and his name was Bill.
And when he ran he couldn't stand still.
He ran away one day
And also I ran with him.
2. He ran so fast he could not stop.
He ran into a barber shop,
And fell exhaustionized with his eyeteeth-
In the barber's left shoulder.
3 I had a gal and her name was Daisy
And when she sang the cat went crazy
With deliriums St. Vituses
And all kinds of cataleptics.
4 One day she sang a song about
A man who turned himself inside out
And jumped into the river
He was so very sleepy.
5 I'm going out in the woods next year
And shoot for beer and not for deer
I am I ain't
I'm a great sharpshootress.
6 At shooting birds I am a beaut.
There is no bird I cannot shoot
In the eye, in the ear, in the teeth,
In the fm(g)ers.
7 Oh, I went up in a balloon so big,
The people on the earth they looked like a pig,
Like a mice like a katydid like flieses
And like fleasens.
8 The balloon turned up with its bottom side higher.
It fell on the wife of a country squire.
She made a noise like a dog hound, like a steam whistle,
And also like dynamite.
9 Oh, what could you do in a case like that?
Oh, what could you do but stamp on your hat,
And your toothbrush and everything
That's helpless.
CRAZY SONG TO THE AIR OF "DIXIE"
We present here lines written by Andy Lee, a pen name of W. W. Delaney, as published in the Delaney Song Book No. 33. Our guess may be that his "Crazy Song to the Air of 'Dixie'" was the beginning of the highbrow folk song perpetrated and perpetuated by Sinclair Lewis, George Sterling and others. The text of it in full is here, so that each individual singer can figure it out for himself. Some of the logic is on the order of that of the member of Congress who expostulated, "Mr. Sfieaker, I smell a rat. I see him floating in the air. But I will nip him in the bud." Nor is it in tone above or below that of the orator addressing the House of Commons regarding certain thieves in high places, saying, "Sir, put these men on an uninhabited island and they would not be there an hour before they would have their hands in the pockets of the naked savages." . . .
With but slight practice any of the verses will go to the tune of Dixie. And they are nearly as silly if read instead of sung.
1 Way down South in the land of cotton,
I wrote this song and wrote it rotten;
I did, I didn't you don't believe me,
The reason why I cannot sing,
I have no chestnuts for to spring,
O, rue! Did we? She don't. Why does she?
I just corne back from Mobile, I did, I didn't!
I just come back from Mobile,
And I don't care to go anywhere
I do, I don't. Oli, Lizzie sells the peanuts.
I used to live down on a farm,
And one bright night, when the day was warm,
I swiped some; choose from oil' the table,
Tlic farmer chased me, but the night was damp,
And the farmer got such an awful cramp
In his necktie, in his feet, in his eye, oh, Ileinie!
. I just eome bark from Cuba! Hurrah! llurree!
I just come back from Cuba,
And I don't know which way to go
I do, I don't, I go out bicycle walking.
8 I like to sit down by the brook,
Take a fishing line and hook,
And fish for clams, for worms and sausages;
And when I see a sign so near
That says: "No fishing go\s on here."
I hunt for fleas, for flies and lobsters,
I am an Irish hunter, I am, I ain't,
I am an Irish hunter;
I hunt for beer, but not for deer,
I do, 1 don't. Now can you know the difference?
4 I once went up in a big balloon
To get some cheese from off the moon;
But the moon was full and I was fuller.
I don't forget I took a drop,
I fell kerflop in a barber shop,
And got a shave a shampoo that's all.
I'd like to see you after the show I will I won't.
I'd like to know which way to go;
For I can't know the wrong direction
I do. I don't. She was bred in old Kentucky
A BOY HE HAD AN AUGER
An old English song is revamped in American colleges. Spoken final lines are improvised, as follows, "The Q is silent as in electricity," or "The bee is not mentioned as iu bumble or honey," and so on.
A boy, he had an auger,
It bored two holes at once;
A boy, he had an auger,
It bored two holes at once;
And some were eating pop-corn,
And some were eating pickles
Spoken (And the G is silent as in "Fish.")
ABDUL, THE BULBUL AMEER
When the Ahkoond of Swat passed away after a lingering illness, his last words were a message of felicitation to Abdul the Bulbul Ameer, his kinsman and host, that the reign and sway of that potentate might be long, illustrious, and filled with deeds of distinguished valor. This wish would have come tnie, in all likelihood, but for the sudden and dramatic entrance on the scene of Ivan Petruski Skivah, whose knife proved superior to the chibouque in the culmination of the violent conflict, the finish contest, or knockdown and dragout affair, as one might say, which ensued between these two bitter opponents in classical language and diplomatic procedure. ... Of the victor's Muscovite morganatic bride, little is known .save the fact that while prone on her couch and fast in the arms of Morpheus she was heard frequently to pronounce the words "Ivan Petruski Skivah." . . . The song in which is enshrined this legend of two embittered opponents, is a familiar of robustuous arid grandiloquent men in both metropolitan centers of urban activity and in wilderness outposts of the Northwest Mounted, so to speak; it is vocalized con amore equally well in tuxedo vest, flannel shirt or duck canvas pants. . . . As a serial tale it creates a climax which is hoist by its own petard . . . The plot gets thicker and thicker till it runs out of gas, discombobulates, and Iwves two stuffed shirts in the wind.
ABDUL, THE BULBUL AMEER
1 The sons of the Prophet are hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear;
But of all, the most reckless of life or of limb,
Was Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer.
When they wanted a man to encourage the van,
Or to shout "Hull-a-loo!" in the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt, they straightway sent out
For Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer,
For Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer.
2 There are heroes in plenty and well-known to fame
In the ranks that are led by the Czar;
But among the most reckless of name or of fame
Was Ivan Petruski Shivah.
He could imitate Irving, play euchre or pool,
And perform on the Spanish guitar;
In fact, quite the cream of the Muscovite team,
Was Ivan Pet rusk i Skivah.
3. One morning the Russian had shouldered his gun
And put on his most cynical sneer,
When, going down town, he happened to run
Into Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer.
Said the Bulbul, "Young man, is your life then so dull,
That you're anxious to end your career?
For, infidel, know that you've trod on the toe
Of Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer.
4 Said the Russian, "My friend, your remarks in the end
Will only prove futile, I fear;
For I mean to imply that you're going to die,
Mr. Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer."
The Bulbul then drew out his trusty chibouque,
And, shouting out "Allah Aklar,"
Being also intent upon slaughter he went
For Ivan Petruski Skivah.
5 When, just as the knife was ending his life
In fact, he had shouted "Huzza!"
He found himself struck by that subtle Calmuck,
Bold Ivan Petruski Skivah.
There's a grave where the wave of the blue Danube flows,
And on it, engraven so clear,
Is, " Stranger, remember to pray for the soul
Of Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer."
6 Where the Muscovite maiden her vigil doth keep
By the light of the true lover's star,
The name she so tenderly murmurs in sleep
Is "Ivan Petruski Skivah."
The sons of the Prophet are hardy and bold;
And quite unaccustomed to fear;
But of all, the most reckless of life or of limb,
Was Abdul, the Bulbul Ameer.
GREENS
"What is close harmony?" was asked a glee club boy with fair Yale locks. He vouchsafed reply, "Close harmony is so called because the singers stand close to each other and watch each other closely." . . . Explaining why its music was not written in four parts, editors of the book of Columbia University Songs declared, "The musical contortionists will get in their fine work
anyhow, and can always be relied on to contribute their improvisations regardless of the arrangement." . . . The following quartet, octette or double octette affair, is a "mellow" (negro for melody) from Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Texas air and words as sung by Loia Magnusou.
Greens, greens, good old culluhed greens,
I eats 'em in the mohnin',
I eats 'em in the night,
I eats 'em all the time;
They makes me feel just right.
ANIMAL FAIR
"All the old minstrels, Dan Rice, Dan Ernmett, and all of them, sang it," said Delaney about Animal Fair. . . . "The monk, the monk, the monk," may be repeated till out of breath.
ANIMAL FAIR
I went to the animal fair,
The birds and beasts were there.
The big baboon by the light of the moon
Was combing his auburn hair.
CALLIOPE
The monkey he got drunk
And sat on the elephant's trunk,
The elephant sneezed and fell on his knees
And what became of the monk, the monk?
This is customarily rendered as a stunt without words, as indicated, in falsetto, soprano register, and in imitation of that mammoth, invincible, crowning feature of the three-ring circus, the last wagon in the parade, the steam "kallyope." Some quartets prefer singing it straight with words, This House Is Haunted. It was widely known across the Corn Belt in the 1890's. The version here is from Knox County, Illinois.
This house is haunted, this house is haunted,
It fairly makes my blood run co-o-old;
This house is haunted, this house is haunted,
It fairly makes my blood run co-o-old.
SI HUBBARD
Circus barkers made up as "hayseeds" sang and recited this piece in the 'Eighties. It was published in the early 'Seventies with the title Hey Rube. Three boys in Pittsfield, Illinois, asked a barker to teach them the words. He refused. The boys took turns listening, wrote down the words, joined the three parts and thus had the whole song. One of the boys grew up, became a
Peoria lawyer, then a Chicago lawyer, and now on cold winter nights when there is no circus to go to, he sings it for his own boy.
SI HUBBARD
It wuz one day, I believe in May, when old Si Hubbard to me did say,
"Barnum's circus has come to town, let's you an* I go see the clowns."
So we sold our barley, oats an* corn; in fact, we most cleaned out the barn;
Then went an* bought two bran' new suits, with white plug hats an' red top-boots.
An* when that circus got around, we two wuz the fust ones on the ground.
Sez Si to me, "Let's go get tight, pull down the tent an' have a fight."
"Not much," scz I, "I'll raise no feud," for you sec I wuz skccrcd of the old 'Ilcye Rube!*
So I proposed some red lemonade an' goober peas for which 1 paid.
'Twuz a jolly good cuss who kept the store, so we thought when he asked us to have some more.
Sez he, "I like you boys fust rate, so don't stand back; I'll stand the treat."
So Si an' I jist pitched right in, an' the way we ate an' drank wuz a sin;
But when we turned to go away we heard that gosh-durncd sharper say:
"Four dollars, quick! you Rubes! Don't wait, or else to the side-show you'll be late."
50 I paid the cash like a durn fool cuss, an' of? to the side-show we did rush.
When we got inside what sights we seen wuz enough to turn our whiskers green.
There wuz a tattooed man all covered with ink, an' a dog-faced boy called the 'missing link.'
But the sight that fairly made us shake wuz a great big sleepy-lookin' snake.
51 pulled his jack-knife out right quick an* up to the cage he then did slip,
An* he stabbed that snake an' jumped away, but I laughed for the critter wuz stuffed with hay.
Now a parrot in a cage close by soon caught the gaze of foolish Si;
Si didn't know this bird could talk an' when it called him a country gawk
He got right mad an* jist for spite, he knocked that bird clean out of sight.
But a monkey who wuz in the cage, at Si's conduct got in a rage,
An' to show his love for his feathered friend, a helping hand he allowed to lend.
50 he grabbed poor Si by his red goatee an' it made the whole crowd laugh to see
51 tug an' pull to get away, but the pesky monkey had come to stay.
An' he pulled Si's whiskers so all-fired hard that his chin wuz as long as the neck of a gourd;
All at once I seed Si smile an' grin an' I knew his troubles wuz at an end.
An* sure enough, with his knife so keen, he'd cut them whiskers off close to his chin.
When I seed that face with the goatee off, I coughed an' laughed an' laughed an* coughed.
An* two girls fainted at the terrible sight, an* the rest of the crowd nil took to flight;
Then the showmen threw us out in a hurry an' the gosh-durned band played "Annie Laurie."
Sez I: "What's the next thing on the docket?" for we both had money in our pocket.
As if in answer to my question, we both looked in the one direction,
An* there, before our very eyes, wuz a big balloon of enormous size.
An' a man in the basket in skin-tight clothes sez, "Cut the rope an' let her go."
Sez Si to me, "I'll spoil his racket," an* he grabbed a rope that wuz hitched to the basket,
An' he tried to hold the balloon to the ground, but the balloon wuz the strongest, so Si soon found.
An* to the horror of the lookers-on, up went poor Si tied to the balloon.
When I seed Si goin' I rushed to his aid, an* a sudden dash for the rope I made,
But my feet got tangled in the coil, an' I, like Si, left native soil.
Then up in the air like a rocket we shot, an f I called to the man in the balloon to stop;
But he only smiled into my face, an* asked me how I liked my place.
"Not much," sez I, "you skinny dude." "Then call me down," sez he, "you rube."
Sez I to Si, "Take out your knife an' cut the rope an' save our lives."
An* Si in his pocket his hand did slip, to get his knife, but he lost his grip,
An* he lit right square upon my face an' then we both fell into space.
"Look out! We're comin'," I cried out loud; "Oh, we don't care." came back from the crowd.
But instead of alighting on the spot I meant, we came smack down on the animal tent;
When we lit the tent began to tear, an' to save my life I grabbed Si's hair;
But his hair broke off an* down I went with Si on top, inside the tent.
An* we lit so hard on a candy-shop that the whole durned band in the circus stopped.
An' then the folks came running out to see what the racket wuz all about;
An* one of the troupers wanted to know if we had paid to get into the show.
"Why, no,** sex I, "We just dropped in to try an* hear a circus ring."
He up with a club an* he hit me a crack which nearly broke my pesky back.
This made me mad an' up I rose an' I hit him square upon the nose.
He cried, "Hey Rube!" an' to my surprise, Hey Rubes came nrunning thick as flies.
An' they grabbed us both an' tore our clothes, an' said they'd teach us to steal in shows.
"We didn't steal in," sez I to the crowd. "Why, no,*' sez Si, "We dropped from the clouds."
But a constable who had a badge on, an' like a dog's tail he kept a wagon,
Told Si an' I to get inside an' with him take a little rule.
When at the calaboose he stopped, he showed us in an' the door he locked,
An* said for being two big Jays, he*d have to give us sixty days
But once wuz enough for us, once wuz enough for us, we'll never go to another show,
For once wuz enough for us.