I would sing this to my kids (along with a cleaned up version of Barnacle Bill the Sailor) when they were young.
Torn a' Ma Goon
chorus: He's torn a', ripped a', torn a' ma goon, He's torn a', ripped a', torn a' ma goon, He's torn a', ripped a', torn a' ma goon, Did ever ye see sic an ill-trickit loon?
O the broon coo's broken oot an' eaten a' the corn, The broon coo's broken oot an' eaten a' the corn, O the broon coo's broken oot an' eaten a' the corn, If she disnae eat it a' the day she'll eat it a' the morn.
O the black bu's broken oot an' bullied a' the kye, The black bu's broken oot an' bullied a' the kye, O the black bu's broken oot an' bullied a' the kye, If he disnae bu' them a' the day he'll bu' them by and by.
O, she widna dae't, she widna dae't, she widnae dae't ava, In the bed or oot the bed or up agin the wa', O, but she did it on the pantry flair, the best ye ever saw -- She hotchit up her petticoat and cried, "Ca' awa!"
(Recorded by The Friends of Fiddler's Green on "This Side of the Ocean." Evil Canadians.)
Of course when my younger daughter was in first grade and the music teacher asked everyone to sing their favourite song, she blasted out with:
It's a damn tough life, full of toil and strife, we whalermen undergo, And we won't give a damn when the gales are done how hard the winds did blow, For we're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds with a good ship taut and free, And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum with the girls from old Maui.
CHORUS: Rolling down to old Maui, me boys, rolling down to old Maui, We're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds, rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we sail with the northerly gales through the ice and wind and rain, Them coconut fronds, them tropical shores, we soon shall see again; Six hellish months we've passed away on the cold Kamchatka sea, But now we're bound from the Arctic grounds, rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we sail with the Northerly gales, towards our island home, Our whaling done, our mainmast sprung, and we ain't got far to roam; Our stuns'l's bones is carried away, what care we for that sound, A living gale is after us, thank God we're homeward bound.
CHORUS
How soft the breeze through the island trees, now the ice is far astern, Them native maids, them tropical glades, is awaiting our return; Even now their big brown eyes look out, hoping some fine day to see, Our baggy sails, running 'fore the gales, rolling down to old Maui.
("Rolling Down to Old Maui", the Stan Rogers version, which I also sang to them at night. More Canadians. Almost as bad as the Irish.)
Wait, there's a not-clean version of "Barnacle Bill the Sailor"? What am I missing here.
I am hoping that captainmushroom shows up in this thread and shares some of the lullabies he sings to his kid. One is apparently "Barrett's Privateers."
Oh, I sang them "Barrett's Privateers", too, but it only had "God damn them all" in the Chorus. A friend had a folk music radio show on WDET named "Staggers and Jags".
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Torn a' Ma Goon
chorus:
He's torn a', ripped a', torn a' ma goon,
He's torn a', ripped a', torn a' ma goon,
He's torn a', ripped a', torn a' ma goon,
Did ever ye see sic an ill-trickit loon?
O the broon coo's broken oot an' eaten a' the corn,
The broon coo's broken oot an' eaten a' the corn,
O the broon coo's broken oot an' eaten a' the corn,
If she disnae eat it a' the day she'll eat it a' the morn.
O the black bu's broken oot an' bullied a' the kye,
The black bu's broken oot an' bullied a' the kye,
O the black bu's broken oot an' bullied a' the kye,
If he disnae bu' them a' the day he'll bu' them by and by.
O, she widna dae't, she widna dae't, she widnae dae't ava,
In the bed or oot the bed or up agin the wa',
O, but she did it on the pantry flair, the best ye ever saw --
She hotchit up her petticoat and cried, "Ca' awa!"
(Recorded by The Friends of Fiddler's Green on "This Side of the Ocean." Evil Canadians.)
Of course when my younger daughter was in first grade and the music teacher asked everyone to sing their favourite song, she blasted out with:
It's a damn tough life, full of toil and strife,
we whalermen undergo,
And we won't give a damn when the gales are done
how hard the winds did blow,
For we're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds
with a good ship taut and free,
And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum
with the girls from old Maui.
CHORUS:
Rolling down to old Maui, me boys,
rolling down to old Maui,
We're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds,
rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we sail with the northerly gales
through the ice and wind and rain,
Them coconut fronds, them tropical shores,
we soon shall see again;
Six hellish months we've passed away
on the cold Kamchatka sea,
But now we're bound from the Arctic grounds,
rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we sail with the Northerly gales,
towards our island home,
Our whaling done, our mainmast sprung,
and we ain't got far to roam;
Our stuns'l's bones is carried away,
what care we for that sound,
A living gale is after us,
thank God we're homeward bound.
CHORUS
How soft the breeze through the island trees,
now the ice is far astern,
Them native maids, them tropical glades,
is awaiting our return;
Even now their big brown eyes look out,
hoping some fine day to see,
Our baggy sails, running 'fore the gales,
rolling down to old Maui.
("Rolling Down to Old Maui", the Stan Rogers version, which I also sang to them at night. More Canadians. Almost as bad as the Irish.)
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I am hoping that
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Oh, my.
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It did tax my inventive skills.
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Oh, I sang them "Barrett's Privateers", too, but it only had "God damn them all" in the Chorus. A friend had a folk music radio show on WDET named "Staggers and Jags".
Then there's Garnet's Homemade Beer, about a brewing effort by Stan's brother, Garnet.