Assigned reading (1 and 2/2 paragraphs [] plus 209 notes) [secondary] [McH]
We see the wake proper here, as described in the song... comparatively straightforward/simple. [♬ they all joined in with the utmost joviality] [♬ Arrah, why did ye die?] [Owen, why did you die?] [♬ drums&guns&guns&drums] [I'll lead the fashions, says ♬ Bryan O'Lynn]
Another song is alluded to, with "Christmas Cake" in the title, performed by 6yo James Joyce in 1888. [♬ plums&prunes&cherries, raisins&currants&cinnamon too]
There's another, very different version of "Finnegan's Wake" [lyrics] that starts "I'm a decent gay laboring youth" and "I'll never commit such a sin [marriage] again". Maybe 'Barnaby Finegan' or 'Barney McFinnigan'.
All the "-ation"s are (by consensus) indications of the Twelve (boring) Citizens, jurors, sometimes called the Sullivans, represented by the siglum "O".
The rotated 'E' is supposedly HCE lying dead on his back, and the possible reference to page 88 may refer to a photo in a French book about Egypt that's now online.
FDV: "His howth filled heavy, his hodd did shake. He fell from the latter. Damb! He was dead. Dump! Size! I should say! MacCool, macool, why did ye die! Sore they sighed at Finn's wake. There was plumbs and grooms and sheriffs and zitherers & raiders and cittamen too. 'Twas he was the dacent gaylabouring youth! Arrah where in this world would you hear such a din again it? The owl hangsigns & the thirsty fidelios! They laid him low along his last bed. With abuckalyps of finisky at his feet & a barrowload of guinesis at his head. To the total of the fluid & the twaddle of the fuddled, O. Hurrah, there is but one globe for the owlglobe wheels anew which is testamount to the same thing as who shall see. He, a being so on the flat of his bulk, let wee peep at Hom, plate III."
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So if this is Joyce's universal history, he's starting off with the eternal truth that all great men inevitably suffer a Fall: if nothing else, they die. FW's eternal hero HCE will be seduced by a sexy girl, but this theme has only gotten a phrase or three so far.
ReplyDeleteShize? I should shee!
ReplyDeleteMacool, Macool, orra whyi deed ye diie, of a trying thirstay mournin?
Sobs they sighdid at Fillagain's chrissormiss wake,
all the hoolivans of the nation,
prostrated in their consternation
and their duodisimally profusive plethora of ululation.
There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherers and raiders and cinemen too.
And all gianed in with the shoutmost shoviality.
Agog and magog and the round of them agrog.
To the continuation of that celebration
until Hanandhinnigan's extermination!
Some in kinkin corass, more kankan keening.
Belling him up and felling him down.
He's stiff but he's steady, is Priam Olim!
'Twas he was the dacent gaylabouring youth.
Sharpen his pillowscone, tap up his bier!
E'erawhere in this whorl would ye hear sich a din again?
With their deepbrow fundigs and the dusty fidelios.
They laid him brawdawn alanglast bed.
With a bockalips of finisky fore his feet.
And a barrowload of guenesis hoer his head.
Tee the tootal of the fluid hang the twoddle of the fuddled, O!
Hurrah, there is but young glebe
for the owl globe wheels in view
which is tautaulogically the same thing.
Well, Him a being so on the flounder of his bulk like an overgrown babeling,
let wee peep, see, at Hom, well, see peegee ought he ought, platterplate |_|_|. Hum!
From Shopalist to Bailywick or from ashtun to baronoath
or from Buythebanks to Roundthehead or from the foot of the bill to ireglint's eye
he calmly extensolies.
And all the way (a horn!) from fjord to fjell
his baywinds' oboboes shall wail him rockbound (hoahoahoah!)
in swimswamswum and all the livvylong night, the delldale dalppling night,
the night of bluerybells, her flittaflute in tricky trochees (O carina! O carina!) wake him.
With her issavan essavans and her patterjackmartins about all them inns and ouses.
Tilling a teel of a tum, telling a toll of a teary turty Taubling.
Grace before Glutton. For what we are, gif, a gross if, we are, about to believe.
So pool the begg and pass the kish for crawsake. Omen. So sigh us.
Grampupus is fallen down but grinny sprids the boord.
Whase on the joint of a desh? Finfoefom the Fush.
Whase be his baken head? A loaf of Singpantry's Kennedy bread.
And whase hitched to the hop in his tayle?
A glass of Danu U'Dunnell's foamous olde Dobbelin ayle.
But, lo, as you would quaffoff his fraudstuff
and sink teeth through that pyth of a flowerwhite bodey
behold of him as behemoth for he is noewhemoe.
Finiche! Only a fadograph of a yestern scene.
Almost rubicund Salmosalar,
ancient fromout the ages of the Agapemonides,
he is smolten in our mist, woebecanned and packt away.
So that meal's dead off for summan, schlook, schlice and goodridhirring.