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30 Jun 00 - 12:14 PM (#249847) Subject: Lyr Add: BORN IN CINCINNATI^^ From: Uncle_DaveO BORN IN CINCINNATI (To the tune of The Wearin' o' The Green) I was born in Cincinnati Up in Iceland, in the South And that's the very reason why My voice is in my mouth. 'Twas a hot and frosty morning, Yes, quite windy, I believe, And the great big trees were making boughs For they were going to leave. And I went to sleep in a river Just because it had a bed And I took a sheet of water Just to cover up my head. If a rooster could but carry a hod, A hen would lay a brick. There are cripples dying nowadays Because they cannot kick. And the veg'tables were racing To win the Butter Cup, And the cabbage got so far a-head The tomatoes couldn't ketchup. And the pigs was making pigsties And the grass was making hay, And the bumblebees was making bum . . . . For Ta-ra-bum-de-ay! Collected in Minnesota in the late 40s, from an old (then about 70) Irishman named Frank McGovern. DRO |
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20 Dec 24 - 12:14 PM (#4213792) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: GUEST,liferdog My grandfather would sing this nonsense song. He didn't have the 'rooster' nor the 'pigs' verses. He did have others. "A lady laid down by the sewer and by the sewer she died and at the coroner's request they called it sewer side. Me father owned a big store house; he owned it in his mind, he put a shutter on the roof and did it for a blind. My uncle owned a great big bull; it's size it was immense, it stuck it's horns into me back and threw me ore the fence. It chased me here, it chased me there, it chased me to Washington and there I got a pension for the battle of Bull Run." I have sung it many times. |
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20 Dec 24 - 01:41 PM (#4213795) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd Here's a version from the Max Hunter folksong collection (https://maxhunter.missouristate.edu/songinformation.aspx?ID=171 JERSEY CITY I was born in Jersey City In Chicago, near th South And that's th very reason why My voice is in my mouth T'was a hot and frosty evening Th wind was full of air There's people dying this year Who never dyed their hair My wife she had th headache She had it again and again I throwed her thru th window Jest to take away th pain A man pulled up th river He pulled up by th roots A miser can't hide money In ice an' cowhide boots The oyster plant is in a stew Th cowslip ate th buttercup Th cabbage got so far ahead Th tomato could'nt catch up I laid down in th river Because it had a bed I took a sheet of water And pulled it over my head My Father had a great big steer He simply was amense He ran his horns clean thru my pants And throwed me o'er the fence He ran me here, he ran me there He ran me to Washington There I received th pension For th battle of bull run I been taking lectric bitters To set my liver at right And I hain't been sick fer eight weeks since We've had electric lights A lady by a sewer And by a sewer she died And at the corners inquest It was said, was sewercide Th crows are making crowbars Th hayroots making hay And th bumblebees are making bums Fer ta-ra-boom-de-a |
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20 Dec 24 - 01:47 PM (#4213796) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd We may have a tentative origin to the song! From Buffalo Evening News, July 24th, 1897: Can you please procure for me the words to a song which were sung by Billy Rice's minstrels a few years ago, the first few lines of which were: |
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20 Dec 24 - 04:28 PM (#4213798) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd Three editions appeared in Vance Randolph's Ozark Folksongs, Vol. 3: Humorous & Play Party Songs, pp. 203-205 (link) under the title "POPULAR GAG SONG" The first entry prints the first stanza only of a 6 stanza edition printed in the Aurora (Missouri) Advertiser, which I don't have access to. However, the first stanza is identical to three editions I've found from 1921, so I think it's safe to say this is the version Randolph referenced. This version is from Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang, Vol. II. No. 17, February, 1921. Identical versions are in The Smithfield (NC) Herald, February 25th, 1921, p. 6; and the University of Winsconsin-Stout's The Tower (1921), p. 143. Randolph also points readers to Ira Ford's 1940 Traditional Music Of America, which I'll quote later, and notes the tune was also The Wearing Of The Green. A Tom Fooler Rhyme It was midnight on the ocean, Not a street car was in sight, The sun was shining brightly And it rained all day that night. It was a summer night in winter, The rain was snowing fast, A barefoot boy, with shoes on, Stood, sitting on the grass. It was evening, and the rising sun Was setting in the west, And the little fishes in the trees Were huddling in their nest. The rain was pouring down, The moon was shining bright, And everything that you could see Was hidden out of sight. While the organ pealed potatoes, Lard was rendered by the choir, While the sexton rung the dish-rag, Someone set the church on fire. “Holy smoke!” the preacher shouted; In the rain he lost his hair; Now his head resembles Heaven, For there is no parting there. |
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20 Dec 24 - 04:35 PM (#4213799) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd Randolph's second reference, from Mrs. Violet Savory Justis in Clinton, Missouri on December 7th, 1928. This entry was sung to the tune of "The Captain With His Whiskers" I was born in Jersey City In Texas way down South, And that is just the reason why My voice is in my mouth. The night was cold and stormy And the wind was full of air, There was people dying lately Who had never died before. Oh my father he was wealthy, But 'twas only in his mind, He put shutters on his windows But he did it for a blind With a club he used to wallop me Till I'd kick up a row, He'd be off the earth entirely If he'd tried to do it now. When I was three days old, my boys, I worked upon a farm, It was there I done the milking, For my country life's a charm. My mother used to take me out And show me funny sights, She showed me how the flowers bloomed And how they come to light. Oh my father had a Texas steer That broke my temperance pledge, I took two horns against my will, As he fired me o'er a hedge. He chased me here and chased me there Till I ran to Washington, That's why I got my pension For the Battle of Bull Run. The crickets they played cricket, And the horse-flies they played horse, The butterflies made butter, And the grasshoppers horse and horse. The gum-trees they were chewing gum Drawn from the buttercups, The cabbage was too far ahead For the tomatoes to ketch up. Oh the bullfrogs sang a merry song, The cowfrogs laughed hi-hi, The lightning-bugs made lightning For the sweet bye and bye, I'll never forget those funny sights I saw on mother's knee, The bumblebees were chasing bums For ta-ra-bum-de-ay! |
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20 Dec 24 - 04:39 PM (#4213800) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd Randolph's third reference, from Mrs. H. A. Mullenix of Farmington, Arkansas, on December 20th, 1941. She called it "The Barefoot Boy With Shoes On." The night was dark and cloudy, the sun was shining bright, The stars were casting burning rays on the storm that raged that night, The lightning struck the cowshed, the cows all chewed their cuds, The moonshine set the prairie on fire in the middle of a flood. A barefoot boy with boots on came shuffling down the street, His pants were full of pockets, his shoes were full of feet, He was born when just a baby, his mother's pride and joy, His only sister was a girl, his brother was a boy. He never was a triplet, but always was a twin, His legs were fastened to his knees just above the shin, His teeth were fastened in his head, several inches from his shoulder, When he grew up he was a man, and every day grew older. One day he married a woman, who quickly became his wife, Her weight was just six hundred, she weighed that all her life, Her head was full of notions, her mouth was full of tongue, They raised a dozen children, all born when they were young. The youngest was a baby, the oldest was born first, The good one was the best one, the bad one was the worst, They never knew their ages, and never had to fear, They knew they had a birthday a-coming every year. They never knew their father's age, but always had a hunch That he was born before the son, the oldest of the bunch, And when they died they could not speak, their names they could not tell, The girls all went to heaven, where the boys went I won't tell. |
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20 Dec 24 - 04:45 PM (#4213801) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd Here's the version in Ira Ford's Traditional Music of America referenced above (link). pp. 438-439 in the 1965 edition. THE TRAIN PULLED IN THE STATION (Tune "Wearing of the Green") Oh, the train pulled in the station, The bell was ringing wet. The track ran by the depot And I think it's running yet. Oh, I jumped into the river, Just because it had a bed. I took a sheet of water, For to cover up my head. 'Twas midnight on the ocean, Not a street car was in sight. While the sun and moon were shining, And it rained all day and night. 'Twas a summer day in winter, And the snow was raining fast, As a barefoot boy, with shoes on, Stood sitting in the grass. |
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20 Dec 24 - 04:53 PM (#4213802) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Born in Cincinnati (from Frank McGovern) From: cnd Following is a version printed in The Menasha Record (Wisconsin) on November 20th, 1909, p. 1 (link). Stanzas added in 4 line intervals for readability. The following pesky conglomoration [sic] of nothingness was written by the great grand-father of Herr Nighthawk's grandfather and recently appeared in an exchange: I was born in Cincinnati, up in Iceland near the south, And that's the very reason that my voice is in my mouth: "Twas a hot and frosty morning; yes, quite windy I believe. The great big trees were making bows, for they were going to leave. If a rooster could but carry the hod, a hen could lay a brick; There are cripples dying nowadays because they cannot kick. So I went to sleep in the river just because it had a bed, And I took a sheet of water to cover up my head. I will ne'er forget the schoolmaster who gave me many a rap: If he should try to do it now he'd not be on the map. For the oyster plant was cooking 'longside the buttercup, And the cabbage got so far ahead, the tomatoes couldn't catch up. Oh, my uncle owned a great big steer, its size was quite immense. He stuck his horns into my back and threw me o'er the fence: He chased me here, he chased me there, chased me to Washington. And there I got a pension for the battle of Bull Run. My father owned a great big store house; owned it in his mind He put a shutter on the roof and did it for a blind. A girl laid down by a sewer, and by that sewer she died. And at the coroner's inquest they said it was sewer-side. Oh the crows were making crowbars and the bells were ringing wet. And the chambermaids were making beds to do them, up, you bot. Oh the pigs were making pigstys and the grass was making hay, And the bumble bees were making bums for Ta-ra-ra-bum-de-ay. |