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Origins: Blackwatertown (Paul Muldoon)

oldhippie 21 Dec 06 - 07:23 PM
GUEST,John Moulden 22 Dec 06 - 06:53 PM
oldhippie 22 Dec 06 - 08:52 PM
Jim Dixon 06 Nov 09 - 06:24 PM
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Subject: Origins: Blackwatertown - Paul Muldoon
From: oldhippie
Date: 21 Dec 06 - 07:23 PM

I have a CD 'The Rode & The Briar' which contains this song by The Handsome Family. The liner notes state "Paul Muldoon, today's bard from Armagh, reimagines 'The Bard of Armagh' aka 'The Unfortunate Rake' aka 'St James Infirmary' aka 'The Streets of Laredo'. Beginning with a syphilitic's funeral, pausing here - because the song has many more lives to lead - as a cautionary bidding of good luck".
The tune is 'Streets of Laredo' with new lyrics. Who is Paul Muldoon? And what does genre does he normally write/sing?


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Subject: RE: Origins: Blackwatertown - Paul Muldoon
From: GUEST,John Moulden
Date: 22 Dec 06 - 06:53 PM

Try http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Muldoon

Despite the variable nature of wikkipedia articles, this particular entry is largely accurate.


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Subject: RE: Origins: Blackwatertown - Paul Muldoon
From: oldhippie
Date: 22 Dec 06 - 08:52 PM

Thanks, your link John, and the further link to his home page, explain a lot about his song!


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Subject: Lyr Add: BLACKWATERTOWN (Paul Muldoon)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 06 Nov 09 - 06:24 PM

From General Admission by Paul Muldoon (Oldcastle: Gallery Books, 2006), page 26:


BLACKWATERTOWN
Paul Muldoon

As I rode out through that sweet-scented valley
That runs by the printworks in Blackwatertown,
I met a young maid who was proofing a galley
Who would ask me to help her find her way down.

Who knew that my love would take me to the cleaners
When I put a few pennies into her purse?
Now when I look back on that slight misdemeanor,
I see I was paying up front for my hearse.

When mutton is led like a lamb to the altar,
There's just no use crying over spilt milk.
The storm clouds fill out when the mercury falters,
For that purse was a pig's ear rather than silk.

She vowed that such matters were all immaterial,
That our bad behaviour was all in good fun,
But fun has a way of becoming funereal.
The horses fall short in the not-so-long run.

So bring me two pintos for one painted lady,
Bring me two chestnuts for her hair,
And bring me two bays for her dealings so shady,
And bring me two blacks for her black underwear.

As I ride out through that sweet-scented valley,
That runs by the printworks in Blackwatertown,
If I meet a young maid who's proofing a galley,
I'll ask her to help me find my way down.


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