MudCat Tavern -

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Janie
Date: 13 May 15 - 09:28 PM

Tears and laughter, rereading this. A good bit of joy and delight.

Found myself searching for this song as a good metaphor. Early

"Early" (Greg Brown, copyright 1980 Love Breeze Publishing)

Early one morning I walked out alone,
I looked down the street; no one was around.
The sun was just comin' up over my home,
On Hickory Street in a little farm town. And

[chorus:]
Oooo-ee, ain't the mornin' light pretty,
When the dew is still heavy, so bright and early.
My home on the range; it's a one-horse town,
And it's alright with me.

Plow broke the prairie, the prairie gave plenty,
The little towns blossomed and soon there were many.
Scattered like fireflies across the dark night,
And one was called Early, and they sure named it right. 'Cause

[repeat chorus]

Many dry summers parched all the fields,
They burnt the fine colors and cut down on the yield.
But the rain has returned to wash away our tears,
It's the fullest green summer that
We've seen for years. And

[repeat chorus]

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: An Pluiméir Ceolmhar
Date: 13 May 15 - 07:59 PM

A fitting tribute to a friend I never even met.

It's the gratuitously silly but bizarrely creative posts that bring the tears to my eyes.

Even an atheist lives on in the affection of the friends he/she has touched.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 30 Jun 14 - 04:26 PM

Oops! Sorry, I dozed off over here in the corner. All those crumpets made me sleepy. What's been going on eh? Have I missed anything? Ladies sitting on a fellow's knee? I'd squash the poor chap flat. More Guinnesh pleash!

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: gnu
Date: 30 Jun 14 - 01:02 PM

Can we get a big screen TV in here so we can put on the World Cup? No sound, of course. I'd rather hear the banter and the songs.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: GUEST,Artful Codger
Date: 29 Jun 14 - 07:48 PM

The next to come in was a reckoner,
He was a flirtatious beckoner;
The ladies complied with his beckoning
And bedecked our jovial crew.
He assessed their gifts, he totted their talents
While on his knees two maids he did balance
And downed his ale with the greatest nonchalance
When Jones's ale was new, my boys,
When Jones's ale was new!

When the landlord's daughter she came in....

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: JennieG
Date: 27 Jun 14 - 09:01 PM

Would you prefer a side of pickled onions with that soufflé, or perhaps curried eggs? How about a dish of each?

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: SINSULL
Date: 27 Jun 14 - 11:29 AM

broccoli and sauerkraut souffle on the way

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 27 Jun 14 - 09:59 AM

"Great!" says the man with the sword. "I propose a toast to Le Pétomane! M'sieur Spaw would appreciate it! And we need more bean and cabbage burritos!"

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: JennieG
Date: 27 Jun 14 - 02:52 AM

The usual crowd were meeting, and some who had never been,
As they raised a glass to Cletus, Possum, and Spaw -
A voice came from the background, 'twas a small voice, soft and sweet,
"I haven't seen so many here before!
Look at all the familiar faces, some not seen for a while,
All gathered here to share a memory.......
'Tis wonderful to see you all! How are you, my old friends?
Let's all tune up, and sing a song with me!"

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 26 Jun 14 - 10:07 PM

There is no patron saint of the perpetually flatulent.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: gnu
Date: 26 Jun 14 - 06:19 PM

"Saint Patrick Patterson"? I am sure it will be St. Spaw. And, He WILL be my patron saint forever.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Dave Wynn
Date: 26 Jun 14 - 06:03 PM

The telephone rings.....when it's answered a voice says "can't make the tavern but I would like to say Spaw once said to me 'F*** off you piece of shit rat bastard and take your friggin' worthless ass to some other site' It was the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Here's to you Spaw,I'm drinking a Whyte and Mackays, save me a space on the steamboat, window seat, somewhere in a corner near a bar."...............click..dial tone.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: SINSULL
Date: 26 Jun 14 - 12:10 PM

Put your quirt back where it belongs, Rap. There are ladies present.


'TWAS a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there,
Which well-nigh filled Joe's barroom, on the corner of the square;

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 25 Jun 14 - 09:32 PM

It's a miracle! And the face appeared inside of the swordsman's quirt! Yes! It's a Miracle Whip!

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: frogprince
Date: 25 Jun 14 - 07:26 PM

It can't be Jesus, 'cause he always has a beard. Doesn't look quite right for the Virgin Mary. These smudgy miraculous images are always sorta subject to interpretation, but I think that it's either Jerry Falwell, Rush Limbaugh, or Saint Patrick Patterson.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: SINSULL
Date: 25 Jun 14 - 07:12 PM

And with a flick of her Bic, SINSULL yells "Let the games begin!!!!!!" A huge blast: a huge ball of flame and the chimney once again draws.

Almost as good as the Christmas Tree fire...

But WAIT!!!!! Whose face is burned into the brarroom floor?????? Or is that bar room?

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 25 Jun 14 - 09:33 AM

Gradually the smoke is forced down, down, down into the room. A murmuring is heard: "Why is so smoky all of a sudden?" "What the bloody HELL is that stink?" "Bert forgot the bathe again!" and even ruder comments.

The gent with the sword has carved out a place for himself in the prevailing atmosphere and calls for another bottle of Talisker.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Bert
Date: 24 Jun 14 - 10:08 AM

It was Spaw, who first mentioned my namesakeThe steamboat Albert Hansell..

It is sad to hear that she is sunk.   Don't forget that her holds were full of whiskey and tobacco. Perhaps we should do a Mary Ellen Carter on her and drink all that whiskey.

We could patch her rents, stop her vents, dog hatch and porthole down, fill her with flatulence and watch her rise again.

There is a whole generation of Mudcatters who will forever think of Spaw every time they hear a fart joke.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: MMario
Date: 24 Jun 14 - 08:37 AM

well - the door in the side wall - the one that's boarded up? 'Spaw was the first (and only) one to pass through it and survive...I'll have to see if I can find the thread...

and of course we need to find the one where he first met Cleigh; and first puffed possum butt...

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Roger the Skiffler
Date: 24 Jun 14 - 05:29 AM

I haven't used the jello tanker for quite a while, I hope lime is OK. I've got a load for the wrestling pit, just let me clear this blockage....
OOps, sorry, , goes everywhere doesn't it- have you got enough towels? I'll just aim it at the pit now.

RtS

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Janie
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 11:05 PM

Janie speaks, voice quiet because there is no need for volume to be heard above a morose and quiet gathering. "One of ya'll who go waay back, tell us a good Spaw story. A good 'remember the time when...."

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Janie
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 10:23 PM

The Octopus slithers back to the jello pit, disappointment dimming his large eyes. He had hoped to acquire a ninth testicle.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 10:00 PM

It was just wound around his fly buttons -- no damage. He quietly goes to the bar and whispers, ANOTHER GALLON OF RED BREAST, PLEASE!!!

Outside, Ferd the Flatulent Horse is insidiously casting his spell, which creeps under doors, through keyholes, and slinks through any unplugged hole like a Maine Coon Cat. Even the smoke from the chimneys begin to back up, driven down by a heavier vapor.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Nigel Parsons
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 03:26 PM

The Bar Keep, with a look and a nod, sent the Octopus to the Gent's to help out.

Ah, the miracle of good beer. He was only a septopus on page one.

Several good drinks later and he's re-grown his eighth testicle!

I'll have what he's having, and a large Paddy's as a chaser.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: GUEST,Janie
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 02:55 PM

The Bar Keep, with a look and a nod, sent the Octopus to the Gent's to help out.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 02:03 PM

That cri de coeur was from me.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: GUEST
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 02:01 PM

"A little help here?" a voice queries from the Gent's. "I seem to have part of my anatomy stuck in the buttons."

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Bat Goddess
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 12:16 PM

Aw, gnu... you've got me blubbering again. Not so quietly this time...

Linn

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 11:35 AM

Quietly, he slams the now empty bucket through the bar, yells out "To SPAW, who will never leave us!" and sings:

My life flows on, but something's wrong--
I'm caught in consternation;
Whenever I begin to sing
there's rising agitation.
My singing voice was not my choice,
Fate brought it sweetly winging,
Since Fate's to blame, I now proclaim:
you can't keep me from singing!

My voice is hoarse, but then, of course,
a sweet smooth voice is boring.
And if a song be sad or long,
I pep it up by roaring!
To sing on pitch is something which
was not in my upbringing;
To sing off-key sounds fine to me,
you can't keep me from singing!

If I sing just right I can incite
a peaceful group to riot
Or offer me a handsome fee
if only I'll be quiet!
But I don't bargain with a mob,
though tar and feathers they're bringing,
Put down that noose and turn me loose
you can't keep me from singing!

The birds have fled my neighborhood,
their tiny eardrums shattered;
My neighbours, too, have said, "Adieu!",
but it hasn't really mattered.
My daily mail brings threats of death
and curses coarse and stinging,
I heed them not they're a tin-eared lot
and they can't keep me from singing!

and then he roars out

Each living thing its song must sing,
life sings to life in chorus;
Our song brings courage when we do not
know what lies before us.
Our songs of freedom, love and hope
down through the ages ringing--
Cold Death defy and that is why
you can't keep me from singing!

Finished for the moment, he heads to Gent's -- the Smithwick's demanding to the set free again.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: SINSULL
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 09:10 AM

Ah yes...Gordon Bok fans, nose flutes, and blue blazers.

Pour me another and join in on the chorus.

See the tree how big it's grown
But friends it hasn't been too long
Since it wasn't big

not sure I can finish this...

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Amergin
Date: 23 Jun 14 - 03:47 AM

The poet still sits at the table, writing....or trying to....his empty glass collection gradually grew from a couple, to a small army, as the liquor burns in his stomach. He looks up, at the widows' table, and then the wallflowers, and the bookworn, librarian highwayman drinking a bucket of Smithwick's.

He lifts his own pint of IPA, and tastes the bitter bubbles as they slide over his tongue, spill down his throat. He sets the glass down.

Then, he looks at the saltwater smudged words on his tablet...words that spread as the tears drip down his guttered cheeks, smeared the paper. He just shakes his head and writes on....this draft nearly finished.

The tune's distant strains
murmur on light air currents
through open windows
calls him, bewitches to track
the tattered strands of the song.

The fingered notes yank
his heart, pushes him to rise
from his bed, and breathe
goodbye in her ear, as his
lips savour hers one last time.

He walks from the room,
follows the beckoning song
as it calls for him
from the mist shadowed fog line
across the apple orchard.

He follows the song,
tentacles of mist grab him,
cool vapour fingers lock
over his wrists, his ankles
tow him deeper in the wood..

He strolls down the rows
between apple trees, stretched limbs
reach for heaven's floor,
he turns back, one final look,
then steps into the shadows.

He places the pen in the spiral wire that binds the pages together, and closes the notebook. Then, he lifts his last shot of Black Bush, and toasts, "To Pat, sleep well and safe journey." He pours the whiskey down his throat, then chases it with the beer.

Next, he slams his money on the table, including tip, rises from his chair, and staggers out the door.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Rapparee
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 02:23 PM

Quietly, he ties Ferd the Flatulent Horse to the hitching post and accompanied by the miasma which envelopes everyone who rides Ferd, enters the North-North-West by East door. He removes his black-plumed hat, fires his blunderbuss at the ceiling, and shouts, "Drinks are on me!"

Sloshing in his shoes from the various drinks tossed and poured on him, he makes his way to the bar and, "Smithwick's, please. Cool but not cold. In a glass. A LARGE glass. Perhaps a bucket." The barkeep takes his blunderbuss, hangs it on a hook, and hands him the check claim along with a five-gallon bucket of Smithwick's.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: maeve
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 09:07 AM

And I think he would have loved this story...especially the last sentence.

http://www.independent.ie/world-news/europe/leading-scientist-ejected-by-audience-after-trying-to-crowd-surf-at-classical-music-concert-30371249.html

Sorry to post links rather than clever and creative posts such as those before mine- I just can't right now.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: maeve
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 08:42 AM

For gnu and others here...a link Pat sent me back in May of 2009.

Colo-Rectal Surgeon Song

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: GUEST,Eliza
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 04:41 AM

If Eliza drinks a whole pint of Guinness, there'll be another puddle, unless she can wend her way unsteadily to the loo. (Is there a loo?)


I'm very sorry indeed to hear about the passing of Spaw. My sincere condolences to his family and friends.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: JennieG
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 02:05 AM

A short woman with long hair and an Ozzie accent sidles in from the door in the corner and mutters:

"What on earth is that pong? Has someone been pharting again?"

Avoiding a puddle on the floor, she strolls up to the bar and orders a bottle of Sparkling Blue Methylated Spirits to keep up her own.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Janie
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 12:21 AM

Hey, didn't you see my finger pointing at the possum? Well, somewhere between the possum and Eliza.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Mrrzy
Date: 22 Jun 14 - 12:16 AM

The catcordeon yowls.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: ranger1
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 11:48 PM

To hell with a fan! Anybody got a match?

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Jeri
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 11:37 PM

Not that stealthy, Janie! (Sombody wanna get the fan?)

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: gnu
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 11:28 PM

KEEP!... put all Bat Goddess' drinks on my tab. Her money is no good tonight.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Janie
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 11:11 PM

I'll drink (and sing) to that!

Another round, barkeep! We are deep in sorrow. Need to climb our way up to celebration, even in the midst of sorrow. Sorrow not just for our loss of Spaw, but the too recent accumulative losses of Tom, Kat, JiK, combined with Spaw.

Tests one's resilience, it does. Also one's intestines.

PPHHHIssssssstttttt. Stealth attack.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: frogprince
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 10:43 PM

I'm tempted to suggest that we all sing "Honey". (Pat expounded at various times on how much he detested that song; hearing it might make him feel better about leaving all of us).

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Bat Goddess
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 10:42 PM

None of us are going to get out of this world alive. The best we can hope for is a good death...no pain, all of our marbles, surrounded by family and friends, and, if at all possible, music.

Here's to you, 'Spaw. Rest easy. Enjoy your next great adventure. Please give Tom (Curmudgeon) my love...

Linn

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Jeri
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 10:24 PM

Maybe we could just sing along with this, because it seems sort of related to the Read writing: What's the Life of a Man (Alex Campbell)

...I certainly can't argue and sing at the same time.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Jeri
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 10:13 PM

It's Herbert Read. Does everything around here have to be an argument? Google the quotation. Herbert Read: The Tree of Life

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Effsee
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 09:52 PM

Guest Gervase..."The death of each of us is in the order of things: it follows life as surely as
night follows day. We can take the Tree of Life as a symbol. The human
race is the trunk and the branches of the tree, and individual men and
women are the leaves, which appear one season, flourish for a summer,
and then die. One day we will all be torn off by a storm or simply decay
and fall and become part of the earth about its roots. While we live we
are conscious of the tree's flowing sap and steadfast strength. Deep
down in our consciousness is the consciousness of a collective life, a
life of which we are all part and to which we all make minute but unique
contributions. When we die and fall the tree remains, nourished to some
degree by our manifestation of life. Millions of leaves have preceded us
and millions will follow us, but the tree itself grows and endures."
That was by Herbert Read; art historian, anarchist and all-round hell-raiser...

I think you will find that what you quote is the work of Khalil Gibran, not Herbert Read.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Crowhugger
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 08:26 PM

Adjacent to widow's corner are we who know our turn likely must come sooner or later. For the time being, wearing my best iridescent black to honour a friend who passed, I toast Spaw yet again. Pass the Drambuie.

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: gnu
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 05:42 PM

UP SPAW!

Subject: RE: MudCat Tavern -
From: Janie
Date: 21 Jun 14 - 05:36 PM

The thing about being skeptics, Sins, is we can always hope to be proved wrong.

Bartender, set the house up with what Sins is drinking. Thanks. Now, somebody lead the toast.