The idea of mis-heard or mis-understood phrases has long been explored in a general sense via the concept of the 'Gladly' - as in Gladly, my cross-eyed bear. Its folk equivalent is the 'Mondegreen', which emerged from Kenny Goldstein's interpretation of a line in The Bonnie Earl o Moray:
Ye Hielans an ye Lawlans, oh whaur hae ye been?
Ballad scholars among you will know that it ought to have been They hae slain the Earl o Moray an laid him on the green.
They hae slain the Earl o Moray an Lady Mondegreen.
Having been implored to set up an MT page in which a collection of such gems could be assembled, I have done so here ... and have inserted a couple from my own experience to set the ball rolling. The first is a favourite, told me by Dr Ian Olson of Aberdeen, and committed (perhaps intentionally?) by his Yorkshire grandfather, regarding that famous Jacobite anthem:
The second comes from the song transcriptions on the Lomax 'Portrait' album of Margaret Barry. In the second verse of My Lagan Love we find:
- Where's me fourpence, Charlie?
(Wae's me for Prince Chairlie.)
- And like a love-sick lemon, she has my heart in thrall
(And like a love-sick leannán sí, she has my heart in thrall)
There follow your own contributions, which I've now put in reverse order so you get the most recent additions first.
Phil Williams writes from N.Cornwall: From Here's Adieu sweet lovely Nancy:
- Come change a ring with the media girl
(Come change your ring with me dear girl)
Jerry O'Reilly writes from Dublin: An Góilín have run a couple of walking and singing tours of The Liberties in Dublin and one of the songs sung is the Dublin street version of Lord Randal, Henry Me Son. Colm Munnelly, Tom's son, brought his son Ronan to one of the tours and that night young Ronan was heard singing bits of the song including the line:
- "What did you have to eat, Henry me son?" "Pies and beans, Mother"
("What did you have to eat, Henry me son?" "Poison beans, Mother")
Gordon McCulloch writes: Following up on Claire M Jordan`s offering on Parcel of Rogues, a well-known scottish singer (best if he remains anonymous) used to sing:
And one or two American songs, for example The Willowy Garden, mention 'burglar`s wine' ... bit of a mystery this one ... is it meant to be 'burgundy wine'?
- The English steel we could disdain, secure in Balloch Station.
(The English steel we could disdain, secure in valour`s station.)
Possibly not a true Mondegreen - but very seasonal:
Kitty Parker writes from Nottingham: Some young children came carol-singing last night on our street. In all seriousness, and with shining little faces, they sang:
While shepherds watched their flocks by night
They couldn't work out why I was bent double! Merry Christmas.
All seated on the ground
The Angel of the North came down
And glory shone around
Cherry Daly writes: As an Australian, I can tell you that a lot of Aussie kids think the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda is 'Andy' ...
- Andy sang, Andy watched, Andy waited while his billy boiled, you'll come a waltzing Matilda ........'
Ray Cullimore writes: I just came across your website and enjoyed the page of Mondegreens and thought you'd like one I spotted on a website. I couldn't recall the last verse of Hard Times Come Again No More so I Googled it and - to be fair, the translator was Japanese - I discovered the line:
- It is a whale that is hurt upon the shore
(It is a wail that is heard upon the shore)
Hans Fried writes: May I add these gems from Melody Maker circa 1967 which, although not strictly mondegreens, deserve honorable mention:
- 'My Pagan Love' followed later in the same article with 'Bobo Davenport'. Do they, perhaps, deserve a Guardian award? I am sure there are others which I may remember.
Derek Slater writes: Many years ago, my three young children (8,7 and 4) were routinely assigned to the front pew in church, directly beneath the lectern; a finely carved dark oak stained replica of a large bird, wings outstretched to accommodate the heavy Bible. All this while my wife played the organ and I sang in the choir. In those 'good old days' the children were quiet as mice in church but given to re-enactments back at home. Such was the profound impression made by the sinister lectern, that they were quite convinced part of the Lord's Prayer to be:
I see you have included the highly flavoured gravy variant of The Angel Gabriel carol. On tour, we basses always sang 'Thou highly flavoured Lady' - relevant, graphic, economical using only one additional letter and easy to get away with, even in the most po-faced gatherings!
- ... and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from eagle ... A fervent collective wish!
Doug Olsen writes from Oakland, CA: Just stumbled across your Modegreens page, for which much thanks. I'm a bit stunned that no one has submitted a mis-heard line from Adieu Sweet Lovely Nancy. Whoever prepared the lyrics on the back of the LP had it as:
Shades of the Tell-Tale Heart! Sorry I don't remember the album or performer. I wasn't able to listen to the LP, so cannot say what the performer(s) actually sang.
- So let your body beware at night. My heart will be with you still.
(So let your body be where it might, my heart will be with you still.)
Jean Squires writes in with a lovely seasonal offering from her young daugher:
- Away in a manger, no crib for a bed, the little Lord Jesus laid down his wee ted.
Niamh Parsons writes: A friend reminded me of a Mondegreen that never actually happened. Apparently I was singing The Banks of the Bann (other version - As I roved out one morning down by the Hilltown) and Crawford Howard was in the audience and swore I sang: at the bank, in Strabane - instead of - on the banks of the Bann. (I know I wouldn't have sung that - but he got a great laugh out of it and slagged me for years afterwards!)
The other mondegreen I meant to tell you was about a Kerry woman who sings The Tinkerman's Daughter - and sings of a 'Nine gallon Pony' - ... a wild gallant pony.
Steve Jones writes from Montreal: 'Pat Broaders of Bohola is a valuable source of the mystifying lyric ... here's my favourite, from the song Home on the album Bohola (3), Track 2'
- I'm home again, I'm home again, nor will I leave it more,
I'll spend my days in love with you, dear friends, till I fizz o'er
(I'll spend my days in love with you, dear friends, till life is o'er)
Claire M Jordan writes: I too always hear in Parcel of Rogues (see below) 'false Argyle' rather than 'force or guile'. The reputation of the Argyle family at the time was such that this makes perfect sense.
Further, I possess a decades-old cassette tape of Mediaeval French court music. One of the songs begins:
However, the lyrics given in the notes to the songs contain a curious error. A French-speaking friend pointed out to me many years ago that the printed text says:
- Belle qui tiens ma vie captive dans tes yeux (Beautiful one who holds my life captive in your eyes)
Qui m'as l'ame ravie d'un sourire gracieux (Who has ravished my soul with a gracious smile)
- Qui m'as l'ame ravie d'un souris gracieux (Who has ravished my soul with a gracious mouse)
Lesley Abernethy writes: Two more mondegreens, both committed by the same class of five-year-olds in a Scottish Borders primary school (which had better remain nameless!):
- Away in a manger, no crisps for a bear
(Away in a manger, no crib for a bed)
- Go, Telly Tubby mountain, over the hills ...
(Go, tell it on the mountain, over the hills ...)
Simon Furey writes: Once when at a club in Tunbridge Wells, I heard a local (Kent) singer do Blackleg Miners and come out with:
I asked him about this afterwards, to which he replied "well, it's somebody's gang, anyway" at which I gently pointed out that a some knowledge of Tyneside dialect (or even better, pitmatic) might help to get "divvent gan"!
- The devil's gang near the Seghill mine ...
(Divvent gan near the Seghill mine ...)
Fynnian Titford-Mock writes: A good friend of mine, Isla Hughes, I'm sure she won't mind me saying so, once asked her dad to sing the 'Hairy Tongue' song - you know:
I did once involuntarily sing this, from The Lover's Ghost, or The Grey Cock (note: don't mix these names up - the Grey Ghost and the ... yes, well)
- And her hairy tongue over her shoulder, along with the black velvet band
(And her hair it hung over ........)
- He knelt down gently on a scone
(He knelt down gently on a stone)
Jon Kiparsky writes: Recently I was listening to Dick Gaughan's recording of Rattlin' Roarin' Willie (the title itself is apt to provoke some misunderstandings...) and once again, though I know better, I was startled to hear him sing:
- It's Willie come sell your fiddle, come sell your fiddle and buy some underwear ...
(It's Willie come sell your fiddle, come sell your fiddle and buy some other ware)
A first contribution from Ian Page: As I heard the tale, it was Ewan MacColl himself who was asked on night to sing ‘that Irish song’ he had written. Puzzled, he asked what song and reply was that it was the one with the line:
This one always pleased me because the song almost makes sense if every verse ending is heard this way.
- I’d dream about the shores of Erin
(shoals of herring)
And another from Beck Woodrow: Here's one from my very earliest childhood. My mother used to sing Waly, Waly, and it seemed entirely reasonable to me to hear and then in turn sing:
- I leaned my bike against an oak, thinking it was a trusty tree ...
Chris Smith chips in with a lovely one from the blues world:
Blind Lemon Jefferson - Got The Blues (Paramount 12354, mx 1053-2, c. May 1926). In the lyrics as published in a CD booklet, the transcriber, who was undoubtedly of a nice disposition, comes up with:
Ah yes, good old noixante-sweuf.
- She ain’t so good lookin’, and her teeth don’t shine like pearls (x2)
But that 9-6 position carried the woman all through the world.
(But that nice disposition carried the woman all through the world.)
Tim Barker writes: Reading your Mondegreens page with great amusement yesterday I was reminded of something similar to Dave Hunt's example reported on the BBC a few years ago. Apparently a young boy was overheard singing The Battle Hymn of The Republic as:
- Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He is trampling on the village where the great giraffe is stored
(... He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.)
John Roberts makes a first contribution with: Someone just gave me a couple of unsolicited sets of words, including Brendan Behan's The Old Triangle. The second verse started:
- To begin the morning, the water's boiling, "Get out of bed and clean up your cell"
(To begin the morning, the warder's bawling ...)
Dick Greenhaus writes again - 'one of the neatest Mondegreens I've encountered was in the version of The Death of Queen Jane (Child 170) collected in Kentucky'.
- Queen Jane was a Neighbor
(Queen Jane was in labour)
Donald Duncan writes: In the American country song Big John, about a mine cave-in, I remember wondering about the line:
Manners were frayin’ and hearts beat fast,
I listened to it many times, and that was what I heard. I could see how people might begin to abandon the conventions of courtesy under the circumstances, but it did seem an odd phrase for a country song.
And everybody thought that they’d breathed their last, ‘cept John.
It was some thirty years later when I heard it on the radio, and something snapped inside my head (it was almost a physical sensation, like some little part of my brain suddenly twisted 90 degrees). I realized the line was Miners were prayin’ and hearts beat fast, – which had never occurred to me when I was racking my brain to figure out what else it might be.
Elaine Belkind writes from Berkely, CA, with a perfect 'classic' Mondegreen - involving the misunderstanding of a correctly heard line. From Haul Away Joe:
- The captain had a pigmy, boys
(The captain had a pig, my boys)
Dick Greenhaus writes to add the splendid, and seasonal:
- Lead On, Thou Kinky Turtle
(Lead On, Thou King Eternal)
And tells us that the originally committed Mondegreen was first publicly noted by Sylvia Wright in an Atlantic Magazine article in (he thinks) 1952.
- Aki, Rice, salt fish on ice
(Aki, Rice, salt fish are nice) - Jamaica Farewell
Jerome Colburn writes to say that, in Illinois, The Walls of Liscarroll (see below) was often called The Waltz of Liz Carroll.
Ewan McVicar makes a welcome first-time contribution with three excellent examples:
The Alan Lomax transcription in 1951 of an Edinburgh children's version of 'I am a little orphan girl' has the startling:
When transcribing Jimmy MacBeath's 1950s suspect account of the community creation of bothy ballads, Lomax transcribes:
- My father is a drunkard and goes right in my bed
(My father is a drunkard and won't buy me my bread)
Singer Arthur Johnstone of the Glasgow band The Laggan was looking at the guitar player's set list. "What's this song, Mountain Goat?" "You know - the chorus starts:
- dunking their heels in the corn and custard
(dunting their heels on the corn kist)
... and Ewan then adds: Billy Connolly and many another Glasgow wean [kid] sang 'A wean in a manger'.
- Hi, bonny lassie, mountain goat
(Hi, bonny lassie, mount and go)
Ray Templeton writes: While listening to the Dixon Sisters' version of Farther Along, I was reminded of an intriguing Mondegreen of sorts in a version of the song recorded in the 1950s by the gospel quartet the Swan Silvertone Singers, where the chorus line is rendered - quite plausibly, I've always thought, given the religious context:
- Father alone will know all about it
(Farther along, we'll know all about it)
Vic smith again with: 'I have been reading the wonderful book Queen Amang The Heather written by Sheila Stewart about Belle for review in MT. At the end of the book there are number of tributes to Belle including one from Peta Webb which ends:
I have a treasured tape of Belle singing at the National Folk Music Festival where she sang some old sentimental songs (in the company of Sheila and her grandsons Rob Roy and Ian) as well as a lively "Wish I was back in Smeraldairye."
This gives I Wish I Was Back Aince Mair in Dalry the distinction of being the first song to be 'mondegreened' twice in this column. I noted Ewan MacColl & Peggy Seeger's bloomer earlier.'
Mike Yates tells me he heard a club singer the other night with the following line to Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation:
- What false Argyle could not subdue, through many warlike ages
(What force or guile could not subdue, through many warlike ages)
Dick Miles once again, with a version of Tramps and Hawkers, found on the internet as sung by Donal Hegarty, Co Cork:
- Come all you tramps and hawker lads and give your ears a blow
(Come aa ye tramps an hawker lads, ye gaitherers o blaw)
Ian Olson returns with a 'firmly justified' mondegreen. He writes 'A mondegreen which has been both wrongly annotated and then justified must be the best of all. In Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger's The Singing Island , containing their version of the North-East of Scotland farming song, Charlie, O, Charlie, they substitute for 'brosers' (i.e. workers who subsist on an oatmeal-based diet):
a lovely mishearing which is not, curiously enough, in the Ord version they refer us to in their Notes, but which their Glossary goes on to justify firmly as follows: 'grozet = gooseberry - used as a term of derision'.'
- For thon hungry grosets are coming frae Pitgair
(For thon hungry brosers are coming frae Pitgair)
Dick Miles makes a first entry with, from Rise up Jock:
And, from Jock o Hazeldean, verse3:
- By there came a bantam hen with a face as black as smoke
(By there came a band of men with faces as black as smoke)
- Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, nor parsley fresh and fair
(Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, nor palfry fresh and fair)
Finbar Boyle writes: 'I once saw a mondegreen involving both the Irish and the English languages. On the wall of the toilet of McGann's pub in Doolin, somebody had written 'What dead cat put me here?' He was obviously quoting the song Casadh an tSúgáin where the words 'Cén cat mara a chas san áit seo mé?' occur. The words 'cat mara' mean 'sea monster', but parse literally as 'sea cat'. Our friend had confused the word 'mara' (of the sea) with 'marbh' (dead). I'm sure it's long gone, being a graffito, but perhaps others saw it also?
And Vance Randolph, in Pissing in the Snow (not for the faint-hearted, no less respectable than me or millions of others), quotes a story which he calls The Kids Didn't Get It. It's a Mondegreen, but ye can look it up yereselves.
In a footnote, a further footnote appears:
He does say that it's not clear whether these are actual or would-be tales.
- Constipated cross-eyed bear
(A consecrated cross I'd bear)
- My feet stink on the mantel
(I'm feasting on the manna)
- Jesus is sneaking through Humboldt Park
(Jesus is seeking a humble heart)
And then there's the (verified) anecdote, in the Opies' Lore & Language of Children when children in schools in various parts of Britain spontaneously sang at Christmas 1938 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Mrs Simpson Stole Our King'. There's a coronation mug in our house at home with a crowned King Edward the Eighth on it. My mother reckoned it was worth a fortune because they were smashed in millions when he abdicated.'
Jeff Gillett writes: 'I can remember Jim Couza when he first appeared in this country, some twenty-odd years ago, singing a gloriously garbled version of Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning, in which the second line was:
It leads me to suspect that he was actually spelling 'sons' differently in the first line, too - although how many suns there are in the average morning is not a question I've previously asked myself. I suppose that the song, being mystical, is therefore exempt from logic and rationality in the lyric.'
- Dawn out of darkness and lend us thy name
(Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid)
Steve Gardham writes: 'The Hudleston collection book Songs of the Ridings is absolutely packed with mondegreens due to the fact that the two cowboys who were asked to edit it had no idea about folk music or the local dialect.'
This is just a sampler: Gordon & Adams' version from the song Mary, Oh Mary, Please Come Home to Me, p15, verse 2 line 7:
and the real title is Th' Owd Farmer and His Shrew, a song attributed in the book to 'an unknown singer, Leeds' - but of course we all know it couldn't really be anybody else but the famed Tommy Daniel of Batley.'
- Told us we're butch 'cause he's guest in a show
(T'owd 'oss won't budge cos he's casting a shoe)
Jerry O'Reilly writes: 'As we seem to be moving along to a new phase on the mondegreens, here's one that has cropped up.
From Craigie Hill:
Of course we would never have known of the existence of bagels when we were younger. The global village syndrome I suppose.'
- The landlords and their agents, the bailiffs and their bagels
(... the bailiffs and their beagles - pronounced with a Fermanagh accent)
Pete Wood writes: 'During my stint with the Ranters, a lady down south asked me to sing:
- The Snows on Mount Vesuvius. It took the four of us a long time before we realised what she was asking for:
(The Snows they Melt the Soonest).'
Geoff Wallis chips in with: 'In terms of misprints, nothing can be worse than Paddy Killoran's The Grease in the Bog which appears on Proper's The Irish Music Anthology alongside Barbara Mullen's The Garden Mothers Lullaby [sic].'
Terry Moylan make a first appearance with: 'On the tracklist of one of the early Columbia records Padraig O'Keeffe or Denis Murphy (can't remember which at this stage) is credited with playing:
A friend of mines deliberately transforms "we kissed, shook hands and parted" into "we pissed, shook lads and farted". This has ruined so many songs for me.
- The Queen of O'Donnell
(Caoine Uí Dhomhnaill)
And finally, surely when the Watersons sing "Go down, go down into yonder town and sit in the gallery" in The Leaves of Life, they really mean "Go down, go down into yonder town, the city of Galilee"?'
Jim Bainbridge writes: 'I lent a Paddy Tunney LP to a good friend once, and she came back to me asking why, in the Green fields of Canada,
- The lambs have gone to Russia
(The lands have gone to rushes)
Fred McCormick again: 'There's a certain Irish music hall song, Irish Molly-O, I think, in which an earnest young man tries to persuade his girlfriend to marry him. When I first heard the song, I couldn't figure out why this desired act of betrothal had to entail the young lady descending into a life of sin and degredation. Then I realised, the guy was singing "Go on, be game", not "Go on the game".
And more record company misprints: Ray Spendley writes: 'During Kelly Harrell's recording of the fascinatingly titled song Cave Love has Gained the Day (Complete Recorded Works Vol. 2 ,Document), he actually sings , "'Caze ( i.e.'because') love has gained the day". What a let-down!'
Fred McCormick writes: 'Since Reg Hall has started on record company misprints, I shall weigh in with:
I'm sure there's many more which will suface eventually. In the meantime, a famous English singer once had to drop Queen Among the Heather from her repertoire after singing 'ploughman's lunch' instead of 'ploughman lad'.
- Back in the Morning - from the old Harp record of The Laictin Naofa Céilí Band.
(Lark in the Morning),
Reg Hall makes his first appearance here, and contributes some delightful mis-namings of tunes on record labels:
- The Legs of Sligo - Colonial LP741
(The Lakes of Sligo)
- Waltz of Liscarroll - Dolphin DOLM5013
(Walls of Liscarroll)
- Siege of Venice - an American-Irish record label, but I can't lay my hand on it.
(Seige of Ennis)
Niamh Parsons returns with something she heard from Eugene McEldowney:
- Where Brian fought the Dane and St Patrick fought the Germans
(Where Brian fought the Dane and St Patrick fought the Vermin)
Bob Rummery writes from Australia: 'More years ago than I would care to remember I was at one of the original clubs in Sydney and heard a version of The Overlander. I was particularly taken with the lines:
They bred them tough in those days!
- A little girl in Sydney Town she said, "Don't leave me lonely."
I said, "That's sad, but my old Dad has room for one man only."
(I said, "That's sad, but my old prad (horse) ...")
Tom Sherlock writes: 'In Cole Moreton's engaging book on the descendants of the people who left the Blasket islands off the Kerry coast, Hungry for Home, he describes his discomfort as an Englishman finding himself in an Irish bar in Springfield, MA, where he is on the trail of some of the first generation Blasket people. He describes a 'Wolfe Tones' type ballad band blaring out the standard 'republican' stuff and is made uncomfortable by the lusty chorus he hears:
There follows a true story ... although it doesn't strictly qualify as a Mondegreen. Some years ago I was working in Claddagh Records in Dublin. A call came through to me from a major film studio in Hollywood asking for me by name. The woman from Hollywood explained that she was working on a film version of Tom Clancy's blockbuster novel, Patriot Game, with Harrison Ford to star in it, and that they had been referred to me as somebody who might be able to help them with a musical query.
- I'm a broad backed swimmer for the IRA
(The Broad Black Brimmer of the IRA)
"I understand there is an Irish song of the same name", she said.
Trying to be helpful, I replied with the line from Dominic Behan's song, The Patriot Game, "My name is O'Hanlon, my age is sixteen."
Momentary silence at the other end ... "Well, um, thank you, Mr O'Hanlon ... Do you think we might be able to speak with somebody a little more senior in your organization?"
A Happy Christmas to you and continued congratulations on a great site.
Tom Sherlock - Dublin
Hal Hughes writes: 'I have one handed down from my mother who, being of Swiss descent, quite naturally heard the old hymn Bringing in the Sheaves as Bringing in the Cheese.
Finbar Boyle makes a first visit with: 'I was discussing mondegreens with Tom Clarke of Na Piobairi Uilleann the other evening. He came up with one from a Belfast singer of Sean South of Garryowen:
- He has gone to join that gallant band, all punctured, pierced and torn
(He has gone to join that gallant band of Plunkett, Pearse and Tone)
Dave Hunt has just reminded me of something I should have remembered myself:
- You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille,
With four hundred kids and a crap in the field
(...With four hungry kids and a crop in the field
Vic Smith returns with a personal Mondegreen:
The first time that I recorded Jali Sherrifo Konteh was in his compound in the Gambia in 2001. I have been listening to the recordings and looking at my notebook from that time. For one song he recorded I have written "The only early composition of Sherrifo's that he still sings. Written for a friend and schoolmate who died tragically early. The song says what a happy person he was and lists his other qualities. S is sometimes still asked to sing it by the mother and other members of the family." I have given the title as Smiling Guy, and I remember thinking at the time that this title and the phrase in the song was Sherrifo's only use of English in his songs.
With a better knowledge of Mandinka personal names, I now realise that the title is the unfortunate lad's name ... Ismael N'jie.
Roly Brown returns: 'At risk of offending sensiblities and the memory of Sabine Baring-Gould ... some years ago, when Gabriel's Message was being sung, the chorus line came out as:
- Most highly flavoured gravy ...
(Most highly favoured lady ...)
Vic Smith writes:
I’ve had a good chuckle looking through the selection that you have included so far. It does seem to me that it is the Scots ballads and songs that cause particular problems and hilarity. It is also particularly funny when it comes from a published source from someone who Ought-To-Know-Better. In the original, for example, Mr Goldstein had spent a year living in households in Fetterangus in Aberdeenshire studying Scots ballads and traveller singers and really should have had the words of ballads pretty clear in that time. Here’s another of his from the booklet notes to Lucy Stewart - Traditional Singer from Aberdeenshire (Folkways FG3519) In transcribing her Laird O’Drum he has:
He goes on to transcribe the next verse about the marriage, but fails to twig that it is 'bridal' bread.
- O fa will bake your bridle bried, and fa will broo your ale-o
We would want to put Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger among those who knew something about Scots songs and places, but their study of another Scots Stewart family - of Blairgowrie, we find on page 247 of their Till Doomsday in the Afternoon in their transcription of Geordie Weir:
I know I’ve found some other howlers in this book, but I can’t remember them offhand, perhaps I’ll have a look through when I’ve got more time.
- So, I wish I was back in Smarendale Rye
(So I wish I was back, aince mair in Dalry)
It is unsurprising that the transcriptions from the booklets of the Alan Lomax Collection series by Matthew Barton have found themselves on to this page and I would suggest that a trawl through his transcriptions would provide a rich Mondegreen harvest. My own favourite is from the Jeannie Robertson booklet (Rounder 11661-1720-2) in The Battle o’ Harlaw:
- It’s did ye come frae the hielands, man, and did ye come o’er the Wye?
(It's did ye come frae the hielands, man, and did ye come a' the way?)
Ernie Whalley remembers discovering folk music when working up north. He decided to learn a new song to sing down the Pickering Arms folk club, hence:
Not to mention a busker's rendition of Steely Dan's My Old School:
- ... and we come, our face eggy, as you very well do know
(... come a pace-egging as you ...)
He also recalls himself and June Tabor 'half-listening to a group at Chester folk festival. June turned to me and said "Why are they singing about 'our elbow'?" I paid more attention and they were indeed singing "Let's bid farewell to our elbow" (old Benbow). I'm also convinced they sang "Good dogs of his kind they are gay, hard to find" (are gey hard to find) - obviously learned via the oral tradition from the same same source as your 'horse on Seventh Avenue'?'
- I remember ... the fortified sweet goodbyes
(the furtive and sweet goodbyes)
Roly Brown adds another selection:
The 'moisten your eye' saga (see below) - many, many year ago, in company with Dolores Keane, we collapsed when 'mice in your eye' was the line we were hearing in Shores of Lough Bran as sung by Herself …
Other Mondegreens, on reflection, were more deliberate…conscious, perhaps…not quite Mondegreen-ish. Thus: at Christmas, the Boar's Head carol was always introduced as The Whore's Bed and, in it, in reginense patrio sung as on Reg and Nancy's patio.
Another true carolling story … Once, during Awake, Arise, Good Christians, when Hosanna! Hosanna! was being uplifted, in came a serving wench at exactly that moment, bearing a plateful, crying 'Smoked salmon? Smoked salmon?' Thereafter …
Paul de Grae writes from Ireland with quite a selection:
Paul adds: 'and of course, with some songs you don't even have to get the words wrong to find yourself giggling uncontrollably and inappropriately - it's been many years now since I could sing A Sailor's Life because of the startling last line, 'How can I live now my Willie is gone?'
- Where the thrush ate the robin and two balls of twine
(Where the thrush and the robin their notes do entwine)
- She begs for more
- The Kinnegad Flashers
- The Gay Housemaid
(The Gatehouse Maid)
- Here comes the rain again, falling on my face like a newt in motion
(... like a new emotion)
- Let me ride on the water-bed one more time
(Let me ride on the wall of death ...)
Mike Yates returns with a line from a friend of his. According to her, this was known to the family as The Salad Hymn:
- Lettuce with a gladsome mind ...
Andy McInally and Susan McClure - two of the original conspirators - contribute the following:
From John Prine:
- You get a happy enchilada and you think you're gonna drown
(you get a half an inch of water and you think you're gonna drown)
From Whisky in the Jar (a la Thin Lizzy/Dubliners.)
- Oh the felony, oh the felony, you shine where you stand
From Lord Bateman:
- I first produced my pistol, then produced my ray gun.
- This turkey had one only daughter
Fred McCormick adds a couple more: 'Anyone who owns the old EFDSS LP of Phil Tanner will recall that Phil's singing of The Dark Eyed Sailor, became transmogrified by some hapless typist':
'And then there was a geezer I once knew who sang, during The Green Linnet':
- ... to entice a maiden to slide the jacket through
(to entice a maiden to slight the jacket blue)
- Come guess me you cretins, come tell me in time
(Come guess me you critics, come tell me in time)
While Don Petter submits yet another true classic - 'I can never eliminate my initial interpretation of a song first heard, I think, way back in those palmy days at the Favourite':
- I have four green fields, one of them's in Wantage
(I have four green fields, one of them's in bondage)
Steve Tunnicliff writes: 'As we approach the festive season all this talk of Mondegreens brings to mind that since early childhood I have wondered why anyone should request:
... unless it was to throw it against the wall.'
- Pass me a clock on a cold and frosty morning
(Past three o'clock on a cold and frosty morning)
And now Keith Chandler donates a real classic - 'My favourite has long been a US version of Sir Hugh of Lincoln, which begins':
- It rains, it rains, American corn
(It rains, it rains, in merry Lincoln)
Mike Yates says: 'How about one that I once heard my very young daughter singing':
- Waltzing bright and beautiful ...
Which reminds me of a similar circumstance:
- Mary's boyfriend, Jesus Christ, was born on Christmas Day.
Niamh Parsons returns with some little snippets, which she thinks more-or-less clean her out.
Jim McFarland came up with this one last night at the Goilin - least I think it was him, there was so much laughter at the dirty ones (which cannot be printed) - but this one got through the censor:
- She said not a word but passed away from life's immoral dream
(She said not a word but passed away from life's immortal dream)
'And my mother, Máire, came up with this one that my dad loved:
- Oh Mother, I could leap from earth!
(Oh Mother, I could weep for mirth)
A friend had a funny pronouncation of the word moisten - as in - moisten your eye. It sounded like - mice in your eye. And I'll stop now!!'
Andy Turner contibutes this Simon & Garfunkel mishearing by a German busker - from The Boxer:
- Just a come-on from the horse on Second Avenue
(Just a come-on from the whores on Second Avenue)
It was made worse by the next line, correctly sung as:
I do declare there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there.
Which brings to mind that joke about a sheep tied to a lamp post .........
And, continuing the horsey theme, Kevin Sheils brings us - from When I was on Horseback:
John Halliday send this chaming little vingette:
Mark Wilson, editor of Rounder's NAT series, writes: 'In the late sixties there were virtually no US issues of groups like the Blue Sky Boys, but they were enormously popular in Japan, presumably as a legacy of the American occupation. So Japanese RCA put out rather lavish sets complete with transcriptions. Now any of us who have attempted to transcribe old records will have made embarrassing mistakes, but these exceeded all bounds. My favorites:
From Lorena - a slave mourns for a wife sent cruelly down-river.
Second example from Charlie Monroe's Boys, about the unexpected nuptials of a newsboy - it should have been:
- The moon shone down upon the old plantation and the big gal was chomping like a horse
(and the old owl was hooting like a horn)
Instead of answering the parson "I do", I stepped up and said "Good morning to you."
They got the line about the parson more or less right, but the newsy's cheery greeting became:
- My pizen is popped and I'm depending upon you.
I can still picture some earnest bluegrass group in one of the hillbillyclubs around Tokyo singing these immortal lines in transliterated harmony.'
Fred McCormick contributes the following morsel of delight:
- If my Johnnie he were here this nightie would save me from all harm
(from The Banks of Claudy, naturally)
And here are five crackers from Niamh Parsons, who was one of those who begged me to set up this page:
Rod Stradling - e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org Tel: 01453 759475
snail-mail: 1 Castle Street, Stroud, Glos GL5 2HP, UK
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