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30 Aug 22 - 10:13 AM (#4151481) Subject: World War I songs: laundered From: Lighter From the American humor magazine "Captain Billy's Whiz Bang" (July, 1921): Expurgated By a Former Acting-assistant Buck Private, Budd L. McKillipps. Last night I was at a party And some fellow sang a song, A song I’d heard, But this poor bird Had half the words all wrong. He sang a soldier ballad, But it lacked the army tang; It sounded strange To hear the change, These were the songs he sang: Mademoiselle from Armentieres; Parley Vouz, Mademoiselle from Armentieres; Parley Vouz, Mademoiselle from Armentieres, She hasn’t been kissed in forty years, Hinky Dinky Parley Vouz. I’d tell you the way we sang it Around the cafes in France, (The words grow worse With every verse), I don’t dare take a chance. Oh, I long to see the captain in the grave yard, With the quartermaster sergeant by his side, And the non-commissioned officers in the tool house While the privates in the mess hall running wild; The non-commissioned officers are a bunch of dirty sticks, They take us to the drill field and they teach us dirty tricks. Squads East, Squads West, Right Front Into Line— The dirty bunch of loafers, they give us double time; Then it’s home boys, home; That’s where we ought to be, Home, boys, home, to the land of liberty; We’ll hoist Old Glory to the top of the pole And we’ll all re-enlist—when the weather gets cold. That wasn’t the way we sang it, To comrades garbed in O.D.; There’s some may tell The real song, well— You’ll not find out from me. I want to go home, I want to go home, The mademoiselles in Gay Paree; They certainly all feel sorry for me; I want to go home I’m here with a busted knee. Oh, hell, I wish I was well, I want to go home. I cried when I heard him sing that, ’Twas a song we sang in Brest; When long days crept And boys were kept In stockades under arrest. Oh, why do they change those ballads, Till nothing’s left but the air? They’re made for men So sing them when There’s no darned women there. |
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30 Aug 22 - 12:27 PM (#4151491) Subject: RE: World War I songs: laundered From: Lighter Concerning the parody of Canadian Lieutenant Gitz Rice's popular "I Want to Go Home," the town of Brest was an important army embarkation port. McKillip's mention of "mademoiselles" and "stockades" suggests that the singer is under disciplinary confinement for contracting a venereal disease. The American military in World War I was unique for declaring brothels off limits for all personnel. |
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31 Aug 22 - 08:01 PM (#4151644) Subject: RE: World War I songs: laundered From: Thomas Stern http://ww1lit.nsms.ox.ac.uk/ww1lit/education/tutorials/intro/trench/songs https://music.si.edu/spotlight/wwi-music Thomas. |
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01 Sep 22 - 08:23 AM (#4151679) Subject: RE: World War I songs: laundered From: cnd There's aleady a pretty lengthy thread on the song this author seems to take the most issue with the bowdlerization of, Madamesoille de Armentieres (aka Inky Dinky Par Les Vous), but I'll add a few bits I typed out about it here. Considering the source, there's a surprisingly bawdy version of Mademoiselle from Armentieres from a budget Hallmark release available here. I haven't compared the lyrics to those available online, so if it sounds interesting to you, I can transcribe it. The Gordon "Inferno" Collection features what Wikipedia describes as a typical example of the impolite version (link). Given your interpretation above, this would seem likely to be similar to the version Mr. McKillipps had in mind: September 17, 1923 INKY DINKY PARLEZ VOUS Madamoiselle from Armenteers, parlez vous, Mademoiselle from Armenteers, parlez vous, Madamoiselle from Armenteers, She hadn't been tamped for umpteen years Inky-dinky-parlez-vous . The general won the Croix de Guerre And the son of a bitch was never there. Madamoiselle from Say Paree She had the crabs and she gave 'em to me. The French they are a funny race They fight with their feet and they f--- with their face. "and then of course the stock one sung by any army in reference to any other." The ------- are hairing a hell of a time Winning the war behind the line. (or) F------ the Waacs, behind the line. E. S. Fowlds |