Excellent Advice From The Folks
I have, at this writing, three lovely things to blog, involving food (no kidding, Sara! Really! I'm getting to it soon!), Victorian taxidermy art, and the third subject, which I'm going to choose, because it's the funniest at the moment, to me at least, and ha! ha ha! I get to choose. Such is the power of the blog.
And the third (but WHAT could be better than food and Victorian taxidermy!) is from Making Light:
Folksongs Are Your Friends, in which Jim Macdonald starts things off by relaying various bits of advice culled out of folk ballads from Great Britain:
Don’t ignore warnings. If someone tells you to beware of Long Lankin, friggin’ beware of him. If someone tells you not to go by Carterhaugh, stay away. Same goes for your mother asking you not to go out hunting on a particular day. Portents about weather, particularly when delivered by an old sailor who is not currently chatting up a country maid, are always worth heeding.
If you are an unmarried lady and have sex, you will get pregnant. No good will come of it.
If you are physically unable to get pregnant due to being male, the girl you had sex with will get pregnant. No good will come of it. You’ll either kill her, or she’ll kill herself, or her husband/brother/father/uncle/cousin will kill you both. In any case her Doleful Ghost will make sure everyone finds out. You will either get hanged, kill yourself, or be carried off bodily by Satan. Your last words will begin “Come all ye.”
Going to sea to avoid marrying your sweetie is an option, but if she hangs herself after your departure (and it’s even money that she’s going to) her Doleful Ghost will arrive on board your ship and the last three stanzas of your life will purely suck.
If you are a young lady do not allow young men into your garden. Or let them steal your thyme. Or agree to handle their ramrods while they’re hunting the bonny brown hare. Cuckoo’s nests are right out. And never stand sae the back o’ yer dress is up agin the wa’ (for if ye do ye may safely say yer thing-a-ma-jig’s awa’).
Et cetera.
But that's just the start of it; the commenters are also well informed:
Don't be surprised when your father presents you with your illicit love's heart in a box. You should have seen it coming.
Never compliment anyone on his featherbed or sheets.
When making toasts, do not under any circumstances omit Barbara Allen.
Et, as above, cetera.
Should it worry me that I recognize at least 90% of the songs alluded to in the post AND the comments?
And can sing them?
(Thanks to Crooked Timber for the link.)
And the third (but WHAT could be better than food and Victorian taxidermy!) is from Making Light:
Folksongs Are Your Friends, in which Jim Macdonald starts things off by relaying various bits of advice culled out of folk ballads from Great Britain:
Don’t ignore warnings. If someone tells you to beware of Long Lankin, friggin’ beware of him. If someone tells you not to go by Carterhaugh, stay away. Same goes for your mother asking you not to go out hunting on a particular day. Portents about weather, particularly when delivered by an old sailor who is not currently chatting up a country maid, are always worth heeding.
If you are an unmarried lady and have sex, you will get pregnant. No good will come of it.
If you are physically unable to get pregnant due to being male, the girl you had sex with will get pregnant. No good will come of it. You’ll either kill her, or she’ll kill herself, or her husband/brother/father/uncle/cousin will kill you both. In any case her Doleful Ghost will make sure everyone finds out. You will either get hanged, kill yourself, or be carried off bodily by Satan. Your last words will begin “Come all ye.”
Going to sea to avoid marrying your sweetie is an option, but if she hangs herself after your departure (and it’s even money that she’s going to) her Doleful Ghost will arrive on board your ship and the last three stanzas of your life will purely suck.
If you are a young lady do not allow young men into your garden. Or let them steal your thyme. Or agree to handle their ramrods while they’re hunting the bonny brown hare. Cuckoo’s nests are right out. And never stand sae the back o’ yer dress is up agin the wa’ (for if ye do ye may safely say yer thing-a-ma-jig’s awa’).
Et cetera.
But that's just the start of it; the commenters are also well informed:
Don't be surprised when your father presents you with your illicit love's heart in a box. You should have seen it coming.
Never compliment anyone on his featherbed or sheets.
When making toasts, do not under any circumstances omit Barbara Allen.
Et, as above, cetera.
Should it worry me that I recognize at least 90% of the songs alluded to in the post AND the comments?
And can sing them?
(Thanks to Crooked Timber for the link.)
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