Assigned reading (1 par [] plus 171 notes) [secondary] [McH]
[Adam delved and Eve span] [Delvin] [♬ Madamina]
everybully (HCE?) / everybuddy (ALP?) / everybilly / everybiddy
This Prankquean vignette is based on a historical Irish piratess, Grace O'Malley, who around 1576 kidnapped the 8yo grandson of the Earl of Howth (both named Christopher) to punish the Earl for being inhospitable! It's combined with elements from the slightly earlier story of Janet/Margaret and "Tam Lin". The lyrics of Tam Lin tell of a man trapped by a fairy-spell who impregnates a girl, and her love frees him. Each time she visits him she plucks/pulls a rose or two. (Weirdly, 'plucking a rose' was a polite euphemism for going to the bathroom, around that time.) Sandy Denny's voice always makes me weep:
FDV: "kicking on the oil cloth... With their dummy" maybe originally they were babies in the care of a nursemaid/dummy who laid out the oilcloth because it was pee-resistant?
FDV: "It was of a night. Lissom! lissom! I am doing it. Hark, the corne entreats! And the larpnotes prittle. It was one night at a long time ago when Sir Howther had his head up in his lamphouse. And his two little jimminies were kicking on the oil cloth, Tristopher & Hilary. With their dummy. And who come to the keep of his inn but the prankwench. And spoke she to the dour: I want a cup of porter. But the dour handworded her: Shut. So she snapped up Tristopher and she ran, ran, ran. And Sir Howther warlissed after her: Come back to my Earin. But [the] she sware at him: Unlikely. Then the prankwench went for a hundred years and she washed the scabs off the jiminy and taught him his tickles and brought him back to Sir Howther another night at another time. And Sir Howther had his heels down in his cellarmalt and his little jiminy, Hilary"
Earl of Howth → Sir Howther → Jarl van Hoother
at some point the prankwench/prankswench/prankqueen/prankquean starts calling him 'Mark', and she's called his niece/niece-in-law, so already Mark's nephew Tristan's wife Isolde, formerly betrothed to Mark himself?
Looking at the evolution of "why do I am alook alike a poss of porterpease?" we see "I want a cup of porter, please", "I want peace", maybe a riddle "why am I like peas in a pod?"
FDV: "But the wicked handworded. Shut." ie, he held up his palm, meaning 'stop' (why wicked? because he's refusing her cup of porter??)
"warlessed after her... stop" a wireless telegram to her (saying 'stop thief')??
mysteries: weenybeenyveenyteeny, auldstane, mulk, burnt head, cousins of ourn, dummy, oilcloth
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But lay it easy, gentle mien,
ReplyDeletewe are in nearing of a norewhig.
So weenybeenyveenyteeny.
Comsy see!
Het wis if ee newt.
Lissom! Lissom! I am doing it.
Hark, the corne entreats!
And the larpnotes prittle.
It was of a night,
late, lang time agone,
in an auldstane eld,
when Adam was delvin
and his madameen spinning watersilts,
when mulk mounty notty man was everybully
and the first leal ribberrobber
that ever had her ainway
everybuddy else to his lovesaking eyes
and when everybilly lived alove
with everybiddy else
and Jarl van Hoother
had his burnt head
high up in his lamphouse,
laying cold hands on himself.
And his two little jiminies,
cousins of ours, Tristopher and Hilary,
were kickaheeling their dummy
on the oilcloth flure of
his homerigh, castle and earthenhouse.
And, be dermot,
who come to the keep of his inn
only the niece-of-his-in-law,
the prankquean.
And the prankquean pulled a rosy one
and made her wit forenenst the dour.
And she lit up and fireland was ablaze.
And spoke she to the dour
in her petty perusienne:
Mark the Wans,
why do I am alook alike a poss of porterpease?
And that was how the skirtmisshes began.
But the dour handworded her grace in dootch nossow:
Shut!
So her grace o'malice
kidsnapped up the jiminy Tristopher
and into the shandy westerness
she rain, rain, rain.
And Jarl van Hoother warlessed after her
with soft dovesgall:
Stop deef stop come back to my earin stop.
But she swaradid to him: Unlikelihud.
And there was a brannewwail
that same sabbaoth night of falling angles
somewhere in Erio.
And the prankquean went for her forty years' walk
in Tourlemonde
and she washed the blessings of the lovespots
off the jiminy with soap sulliver suddles
and she had her four owlers masters
for to tauch him his tickles
and she convorted him to the onesure allgood
and he became a luderman.
So then she started to rain and to rain
and, be redtom, she was back again
at Jarl van Hoother's in a brace of samers
and the jiminy with her in her pinafrond,
lace at night, at another time.
And where did she come
but to the bar of his bristolry.
And Jarl van Hoother
had his baretholobruised heels
drowned in his cellarmalt,
shaking warm hands with himself,
and the jiminy Hilary
could the dummy be a pacifier?
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