Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Got a lot on my plate
...so this is just to post a song I was recently introduced to by Andrew, very old friend and fellow who is teaching me some carpentry chops at present. One day I'll have to post more on the fellow, though he does figure into a previous Yawp. There's a number of versions on the web...and apparently one done by the Dead...and my not knowing that may be construed as a signal of my lack of allegiance in that direction...not that I nurture the same antipathy my wife does in this direction, but...in any case, here 'tis--this the closest to the version Andy was singing the other day on the job, and still not exactly the same. The nature of traditional lyrics, I suppose. I think there are far worse fates for a poem than to undergo alteration in this manner...but then, I'm not sold on attributing primacy to the author...certainly not over the poem itself, which, IMHO, should live its own life.
Maybe I can convince Andyman to work it up for the digicam. If so, posting to follow. But who knows?
I like it, though, and thought I'd share. More later.
A Horse Named Bill
I had a horse, his name was Bill
And when he ran, he couldn't stand still
He ran away, one day And also, I ran with him
He ran so hard he couldn't stop
He ran into a barber's shop
He fell exhausted, with his teeth In the barber's left shoulder
Oh I went out into the woods last year
To hunt for beer and not for deer
I am, I ain't A great, sharp shooter
At shooting birds, I am a beaut
There is no bird I cannot shoot
In the eye, in the ear, in the finger
In Frisco Bay there lives a whale
And she eats porkchops by the bale
By the hatbox, by the pillbox, by the hogshead, by the schooner
Her name is Lena, she is a peach
But don't leave food within her reach
Or babies, or nursemaids, or chocolate ice cream sodas
She loves to laugh and when she smiles
You just see teeth for miles and miles
And tonsils, and spareribs, and things too fierce to mention
She knows no games so when she plays
She rolls her eyes for days and days
She vibrates, she yodels, and breaks the ten commandments
Oh wheat can you do in a case like that
Oh what can you do but stamp on your hat
Or on an eggshell, or a toothbrush, or anything that's helpless
Maybe I can convince Andyman to work it up for the digicam. If so, posting to follow. But who knows?
I like it, though, and thought I'd share. More later.
A Horse Named Bill
I had a horse, his name was Bill
And when he ran, he couldn't stand still
He ran away, one day And also, I ran with him
He ran so hard he couldn't stop
He ran into a barber's shop
He fell exhausted, with his teeth In the barber's left shoulder
Oh I went out into the woods last year
To hunt for beer and not for deer
I am, I ain't A great, sharp shooter
At shooting birds, I am a beaut
There is no bird I cannot shoot
In the eye, in the ear, in the finger
In Frisco Bay there lives a whale
And she eats porkchops by the bale
By the hatbox, by the pillbox, by the hogshead, by the schooner
Her name is Lena, she is a peach
But don't leave food within her reach
Or babies, or nursemaids, or chocolate ice cream sodas
She loves to laugh and when she smiles
You just see teeth for miles and miles
And tonsils, and spareribs, and things too fierce to mention
She knows no games so when she plays
She rolls her eyes for days and days
She vibrates, she yodels, and breaks the ten commandments
Oh wheat can you do in a case like that
Oh what can you do but stamp on your hat
Or on an eggshell, or a toothbrush, or anything that's helpless
# posted by Gene Justice @ 1:14 AM 
Comments:
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sang it many times with andy-o-back it enid eh?whoa!love to you and the family and say hey to andy for me-------peace-Corey
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# posted by 
: 8:39 PM
: 8:39 PM << Home
