Archive for October, 2010

by Old Uncle Crow 
[The first selection below, with bracketted interpolations, is closest to the version I learnt 1960 ca from my American maternal uncle EJ whilst “polishing many a shitfork handle” in the barn and hoghouse on the family farm Summers between 1956-69, on the high, dry and, to-day, farmed-out ground on the high ground between Madison Lake and Eagle Lake, MN — OUC]
Bamber01-25-2010, 05:40 AM

Three Old Whores From Winnipeg
CHORUS: Oh, roly poly stick-a [tickle — Uncle E] my holey,
Up my slimy slough [Sink in a slimy slough — cantare citat],
I [I’ll — ibid] drag my balls across the halls,
I’m one of the sportin’ [that whorey whorehouse — ibid] crew.

Three old whores from Winnipeg
Were drinking cherry wine,
Says one of them [One of them said — ibid] to the other two,
“Yours is smaller than mine [My cunt (NB) is bigger than yours! — ibid]

“You’re a liar,” says the second old whore,
“Mine’s [My cunt is — ibid] as big [wide? –ed] as the sea, [Hudson’s Bay — ibid]
[The — ibid] Ships sail in and [the — ibid] ships sail out
And [they — ibid] never bother me.”

“You’re a liar,” says the third old whore,
“Mine’s [My cunt is — ibid] as big [wide? — ed] as the moon [ocean — ibid]
[The — ibid] Ships sail in [there — ibid] on the first of the year
And never come [back — ibid] out [again — ibid] till June.”

“You’re a liar,” says the first again [old whore some more — ibid],
Mine’s [My cunt is — ibid] as big as the air [sky —  ibid],
[The — ibid] Ships sail [birds fly — ibid] in and ships sail [the birds fly — ibid] out
And never tickle a [pubic — ibid] hair.”

“You’re a liar,” says the second [old whore — ibid] again,
Mine [My cunt — ibid] is bigger than [the biggest one of — ibid] all,
For many’s the ship that sails right in [on in — ibid]
And never * comes [back — ibid] out [again — ibid] at all [At ALL! (followed by plenty of sub-adult boyish giggling) — ibid]”

*  — Anxiously discussed non-emergence from a female vagina was the great megrim and boyhood horror and boogeywoman of male childhood in the midwestern American 1950s; and, alas, a lot of the fellows of course did disappear into the fatuities of marriage and all the vicissitudes of child-support payments.  Many others became credentialled professionals which is the remarkable postmodern metaphor, to-day, of a castrated uselessness in the 1946-64 Baby Generation– OUC

These other links are to versions more inept and, yet, all the less innocently playful and jejeune:
[Old Uncle Crow
[copyrighted by tio cuervo
[October 6th, 2010]

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