Saturday, February 1, 2014

Page 149

Assigned reading (1 2/2 par [] plus 92 notes) [secondary] [McH] [*]











FDV: "plight, or, picking up lousies or dropping his teeth or wringing his handcuffs for peace, the poor blighter, & praying the Allfight for thomething to eath, if he wept while he leapt and guffalled with a whimper made bad bloud above black mund & no bones without flesh and taking kiss kak or kick with a suck sigh of simper, a diffle to larn and a dibble to lech, if he begged, the vain shinner you to save his immartial [...] skillmustered soul from the hoo hoodoodoo breaking boasts that of wile woe & sin he was partial, we don't think [we] care to this evening, would you?"

FDV2: "plight, or, picking up lousies or dropping his teeth or wringing his handcuffs for peace, the poor blighter, & praying the Allarmies for thomething to eath, if he wept while he leapt and guffalled with a quimper made cold bloud of black mundy & no bones without flech and taking kiss kake or kick with a sucksigh or simper, a diffle to larn and a dibble to lech, if the vain shinner begged you to save his immartial sore skillmustered soul with a Hoo! Hoodoodoo! breaking boast that to wile woem & sin he was partial, we don't think, Johm, we care to this evening, would you?"

mysteries:



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Friday, January 31, 2014

Page 148

Assigned reading (2/2 pars [] plus 88 notes) [secondary] [McH] [*]











FDV: "Is it not delicious really, I am enjoying it still, I swear I am. Why do you prefer it in the dark, if I may ask, my sweety? No, sweetest, why would that annoy me but don't! Your lips, love, be careful! Mind my dress above all! So, so, my precious. If I sell you, dear? I wouldn't for all the jewels above us. Shshsh! Don't start like, you wretch! I thought you knew everything. It's only another queer fish in the damned old river. Excuse me for swearing, love! I swear I didn't mean to! Did you really never speak to a girl before? Of course I believe you, my own sweet darling liar, when you tell me! Never! Never! Always of Always! As long as the stars look!
∧ 11) If you met on the binge a poor acheseyed from Ailing when the tune of his tremble shook shimming and shin while his contrary soughed to the squeak of his wailing like rugilant pugilant Lyon O'Lynn, if he maundered in misery plaining his"

FDV2: "Is it not delicious really, I am enjoying it still, I swear I am. Why do you prefer it in the dark, if I may ask, sweety? No, sweetest, why would that annoy me but don't! Your lips, love, be careful! Mind my dress above all! So, so, my precious. If I sell who, dear? I wouldn't for all the jewels above us. Shshsh! Don't start like, you wretch! I thought you knew everything. It's only another queer fish in the damned old river. Excuse me for swearing, love! I swear I didn't mean to! Did you really never speak clothse to a girl before? Of course I believe you, my own dear darling liar, when you tell me! Never! Never in my whole sweet life! Always of till Always love! As lone as the lucksmith laughs!
∧ 11) If you met on the binge a poor acheseyed from Ailing when the tune of his tremble shook shimmy and shin while his contrary soughed in the weak of his wailing like a rugilant pugilant Lyon O'Lynn, if he maundered in misery plaining his"

mysteries:



[04:17-06:25]
[00:00-00:11]

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Page 147

Assigned reading (1 par [] plus 88 notes) [secondary] [*]











FDV: "I swear to you by all I hold secret in this world & in my underworld and in the whole wondersworld. Close you, mustn't look, now open, pette, your lips, pepette, like I used to do with Dan Holohan told me, wholohan will have ears like yours. Do you like that, silenziosus? Are you enjoying, my life, my love?"

FDV2: "no, I swear to you by all I hold secret in this world & in my underworld and in the whole wondersworld. Close you, mustn't look, now open, pette, your lips, pepette, like I used to do with Dan Holohan taught me, wholohan will have ears like ours. Do you like that, silenziosus? Are you enjoying, my life, my love?"

mysteries:



[02:05-04:18]

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Thursday, January 30, 2014

[Origins of the song "Finnegan's Wake"]

[I've been exploring the capabilities of rapgenius.com for hypertexting song lyrics and texts. Which has led to the backlog of historical links... below.]  [[ps: rapgenius has a nice interface but they have no community spirit-- not recommended.]]

The Old and Young Courtier (1660)
Like a flourishing young gallant, newly come to his land,
Who keeps a brace of painted madams at his command,
And takes up a thousand pound upon his father's land,
And gets drunk in a tavern, till he can neither go nor stand

The Fine Old English Gentleman
He laid him down right tranquilly,
Gave up life’s latest sigh;
And mournful stillness reigned around,
And tears bedewed each eye

The Fine Ould Irish Gintleman (1845)
Written and Sung by John Brougham, [1814-1880]
sheetmusic

5. This fine ould Irish gintleman he was once out upon a spree,
And as many a fine ould Irish gintleman has done and more broken will do
to the end of time be got about as dhrunk as he could be,
His senses was complately mulvathered and the consequence
was that he could neither hear nor see,
So they thought he was stone dead and gone intirely,
So the best thing they could do would be to have him wake and buried dacintly,
Like a Fine Ould Irish Gintleman All of the rale ould stock.
6. So this fine ould Irish gintleman he was laid out upon a bed,
with half a dozen candles at his heels and two or three dozen
more or less about his head,
But when the whiskey bottle was uncorked he couldn’t stand it any longer
so he riz right up in bed,
and when sich mighty fine stuff as that is goin about says he
you don’t think I’d be such a soft headed fool as to be dead
,
Oh this fine ould Irish Gintleman it was mighty hard to kill.
Tim Finigan's Wake
by John F. Poole
as sung by Tony Pastor
Air: The French Musician [abc notation]
TIM FINIGAN lived in Walker street,
A gentleman Irishman-- mighty odd--
He'd a beautiful brogue, so rich and sweet,
And to rise in the world he carried the hod.
But, you see, he’d a sort of a tippling way--
With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born,
And to help him through his work each day,
He'd a drop of the craythur' every morn.
Chorus.
Whack, hurrah! blood and 'ounds, ye sowl ye!
Welt the flure, yer trotters shake;
Isn't it the truth I've tould ye,
Lots of fun at Finigan's wake!


One morning Tim was rather full,
His head felt heavy, which made him shake;
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull,
So they carried him home his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet,
And laid him out upon the bed,
With fourteen candles round his feet,
And a couple of dozen around his head!
Whack, hurrah, etc.

His friends assembled at his wake,
Missus Finigan called out for the lunch;
First they laid in tay and cake,
Then pipes and tobaccy, and whiskey-punch.
Miss Biddy O'Brien began to cry:
"Sich a purty corpse did you ever see?
Arrah! Tim avourneen, an' why did ye die?"--
"Och, none o' yer gab!" says Judy Magee.
Whack, hurrah, etc.

Then Peggy O'Connor took up the job:
"Arrah, Biddy," says she, "ye're wrong, I'm sure."
But Judy then gave her a belt on the gob,
And left her sprawling on the flure.
Each side in the war did soon engage,
'Twas woman to woman and man to man;
Shillalah-law was all the rage,
And a bloody ruction now began.
Whack, hurrah, etc.

Mickey Mulvaney raised his head,
When a gallon of whiskey flew at him;
It missed him, and, hopping on the bed,
The liquor scattered over Tim!
Bedad, he revives! see how he raises!
And Timothy, jumping from the bed,
Cries, while he lathered around like blazes,
"Bad luck till yer sowls! d'ye think I'm dead?"
Whack, hurrah, etc.
abc notation:
FINNEGAN'S WAKE (Torran UíFinnguine)
AKA "Tim Finnegan's Wake" "(An) Bhean Spáinneach", "The French Musician", "Paddy Doyle", "The Spanish Lady", and
"Doran's Ass" [American, March or Reel. USA, southwestern Pa. D Major. Standard tuning. AB. According to Bayard (1981) the title is the one the tune is most commonly known by, and comes from a "stage Irish" song (known in Pennsylvania as a folk song, "Dolan's Ass"). Source for notated version: Hiram Horner (fifer from Fayette/Westmoreland Counties, Pa., 1944, who learned it from Scots fifer David P. Henderson) [Bayard]. Bayard (Dance to the Fiddle), 1981; No. 276, pgs. 231‑232.]
Irish, New England; Air (cut time), Polka or March (2/4). D Major
(Mallinson, Miller & Perron, Taylor):
C Major (O'Neill):
G Major (Tubridy). Standard tuning.
AB (O'Neill): AABB (Mallinson, Miller & Perron, Taylor. Tubridy).
A tune derived from a comic "stage‑Irish" song, which Bayard (1981) says was known in Pennsylvania as a folk song called "Dolan's Ass." The first part of the tune, he observes, is perhaps older than the second.
Cazden (et al, 1982) report that Edwin Ford Piper gives 1884 as the date for the first appearance of the song "Finnegan's Wake," while Charles Kennedy uses the date of about 1870 for the piece he identifies as an "Irish-American vaudeville" work.
The sheet music was listed as published in New York by Wm. A. Pond Co. in 1864, while a different reference from the same year names the air to the song as "The French Musician."
The Journal of the Folk Song Society, vol. IV, pg. 294, gives three sets of the air, two from the early 18th century and one from camp meeting spirituals known in Britain and the U.S. (all sets resemble the first strain of "Finnegan's Wake").
The song "Willie Taylor" is sometimes sung to this tune in Ireland.
Sources for notated versions: Hiram Horner (Westmoreland and Fayette Counties, Pa., 1960), Henry Yeager (Centre County, Pa., 1930's), Fred Miller and Glen Gelnette (Jefferson County, Pa., 1949) [Bayard]; set dance music recorded at Na Píobairí Uilleann, late 1980’s [Taylor]. American Veteran Fifer, No. 62. Bayard (Dance to the Fiddle), 1981; No. 184A‑C, pgs. 140‑141. Mallinson (100 Polkas), 1997; No. 93, pg. 36. Miller & Perron (New England Fiddlers Repertoire), 1983; No. 57. O'Neill (Music of Ireland: 1850 Melodies), 1903/1979; No. 265, pg. 46. Ostling, pg. 23. Roche Collection, vol 2; No 298 (4th figure and 1st tune of a quadrille). Taylor (Music for the Sets: Blue Book), 1995; pg. 21. Tubridy (Irish Traditional Music, Book Two), 1999; pg. 6.
X:1
T:Finnegan’s Wake
L:1/8
M:C|
K:D
|:F3F F2E2|F2A2B2A2|d3d d2A2|B2A2E4|F3F F2E2|F2A2B2A2|d3d d2A2|B2c2d4:|
|:d3d d2e2|d2c2B2A2|d3d d2e2|d2e2f4|d3d d2e2|d2c2B2A2|B3c B2A2|B2c2d4:|

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Page 146

Assigned reading (1 par [] plus 83 notes) [secondary] [*]











FDV: "your hairymejig if even you had one no lovingest I'm not trying to take a rise out of you It's because I'm only any girl and because someone is not here and because I hate you the very thought of the thought of you and because, darling, of course, dearest, I was always meant for an engineer. I beg your pardon I was listening to every word I said fell from your lips. Move your mouth towards me, more, more and more, don't be a, I'm not going to,"

FDV2: "the your hairymejig if even you had one no lovingest I'm not trying to take a rise out of you It's because I'm only any girl and because old someone is not here and because I hate the very thought of the thought of you and because, darling, of course, dearest, I was always meant for an engineer. I beg your pardon I was listening to every word I said fell from your lips. Move your mouth towards me, more, more and more, don't be a, I'm not going to,"

mysteries:



[09:35-09:40]
[00:00-02:06]

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Page 145

Assigned reading (1 par [] plus 74 notes) [secondary] [*]











FDV: "birthday dress and that her two hands may rot off her the other little bitch I know by your cut you'll be going afte with the jumps in her stomach because of course I know, pettet, you're so considerate in yourself you cold cat you {Codling snakelet, icicle, O read my eyes, count all quick my rhythmic ticks, I'd risk a policeman passing by} the flame that is what in the pardon O did you speak, stuck! how I'd like to make you flame up when I'd run the torchlight through"

FDV2: "birthday pelts and that her blanche mainges may rot off her leprously the other winking bitch I know by your cut, sweetest, you'll be chasting afte with the jumps in her stomewhere because of course I know, pettet, you're so learnedful & considerate in yourself you long cold cat you Codling snakelet, icicle, my diaper has more life to it! O read my dazzled eyes, count all your quick my rhythmic ticks, pore into my me volumes, spell me stark & spill me often transname my loveliness & now here we & me for all times! I'd risk a pulloosemen passing by the flame I beg O pardone that is what O ah did you speak, stuckup! how I'd enjoy just love to make you flame your half a banana too when I'd run my torchlight through"

mysteries:



[07:31-09:36]

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Monday, January 27, 2014

Page 144

Assigned reading (1 par [] plus 94 notes) [secondary] [McH] [*]











FDV: "when I think of Dan Hishon, the & his maulers, bend come stoop a little closer, please feelse fealse, delicious simply, I haven't enjoyed such felt so turkish for ages & ages, what are they all the mucking lot of them only, pept,} listen, lovest, of course, it was so kind of you to remember my sighs in shockings and I'll always and always remind of it with my very best love even if he was to be ten times my age. O mind you poor fingy I'm very mummum I'm terribly sorry I swear I am. May you never see me in my figure when I'm asleep in my"

FDV2: "to make them look so rosetop glowstop dontstop nostop when I think of Dan Hishon, the foodbrawler & the sociationist party & his other 14 maulers, stoop a little closer, please fealse, delicious simply, I haven't felt so turkish for ages & ages, what are they all the mucking lot of them only, pept, that's right, hold it steady, listen, lovest, of course, it was so kind of you miser, to remember my sighs in shockings and I'll always and always remind of it with my very best rolling in love even if he was to be a hundred vermilion times my age to live on creaking around on his arxle like a crosty old cornquake. O mind you poor fingy I'm sorry mummum I'm terribly sorry I swear to you I am. {I'm only any girl. Thou You may be her man.} May you never see me in my figure when I'm asleep in my"

mysteries:



[05:27-07:32]

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Sunday, January 26, 2014

Page 143

Assigned reading (3½ pars [] plus 179 notes) [secondary] [McH] [*]











FDV: "hose held home, but comes elope year, coach and four, sweet peck-of-my-heart picks one man more.
⊗ 9) Now, to be on again and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech, if a human being duly fatigued of dayety of the sooty, with plenxty of time on his hands and roams of space at his feet, were acorded an earsighted view of all the ingredients and egriegunt means to which the course of his tory has had recourses, the reverberration of knotcracking awes, the reconjungation of nodebindings ayes, the redissolusingness of mindmouldered ease, the thereby hang of the hoel of it, could such a none, whiles even led come to comelieswithins and till intempestuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spy lucan dawn, byhold at ones what is main and why tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings, the sap rising the foles falling, the nimb of how nihilant round the girlyhead so becoming, the wrestless in the womb, all the rivals to the sea, shakeagain, all the O disaster, shakeamore, ah how starring!, but Heng's got a bit of Horsa's nose and Jeff's got the signs of Ham round his mouth, and the bow of beau that was beautiful pales as it palls, what was rude and oragious grows gelb and greem, blue out the ind of it! Violet's dyed! then what would he seem to seemself to be seeming at, dimn it all?
Answer — A collidoscape.
⊣ 10) What then is life but yurning, what is a lovematch but a brief burning, till shee that drawes doth smoak returne?
Answer — I know, pepette, of course [...] but listen, precious thanks, pette, these are lovely, {delicious, simply, [mind the wind, pet, what exquisite hands you have I bet you use French cream"

FDV2: "hose held home, but cometh elope year, coach and four, sweet peck-at-my-heart picks one man more.
⊗ 9) Now, to be on anew and basking again in the panaroma of all flores of speech, if a human being duly fatigued by the dayety of the sooty, with plenxty of time on his gouty hands and roams of space at his sleepish feet and as hapless beyond the dreams of accuracy as any camelot prince of dinmurk, were, at this auctual futule preteriting instant, in the states of suspensive exanimation acorded through the eye of a noodle, with an earsighted view of hopeinhaven with all the ingredient and egregiunt wights and ways to which in the curse of his persistence the course of his tory will had been having recourses, the reverberration of knotcracking awes the reconjungation of nodebindings ayes, the redissolusingness of mindmouldered ease, and the thereby hang of the hoel of it, could such a none, whiles even led comesilencers to comelieswithhers and till intempestuous Nox should catch the gallicry and spy lucan dawn, byhold at ones what is main and why tis twain, how one once meet melts in tother wants poignings, the sap rising the foles falling, the nimb but now nihilant round the girlyhead so becoming, the wrestless in the womb, all the rivals to the sea, shakeagain, O disaster, shakeamore, ah how starring!, but Heng's got a bit of Horsa's nose and Jeff's got the signs of Ham round his mouth, and the beau that was beautiful pales as it palls, what ross rude and oragious senks gelb and greem, blue out the ind of it! Violet's dyed! then what would that fargazer seem to seemself to be seeming at, dimn it all?
Answer — A collidoscape.
⊣ 10) What bitter's life but yurning, whut' sour lovemutch but a bref burning, till shee that drawes doth smoake retourne?
Answer — I know, pepette, of course [...] but listen, precious thanks, pette, these are lovely, delicious, mind the wind, pet, what exquisite hands you have if you didn't bite your nails I bet you use her fine French cream"

mysteries:



[03:27-05:28]

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