Hey at least I come by macabre fascinations honestly. Below is a lullabye my grandmother sang to my father, aunts, and uncle---and when I was seven or so--she sang it to me. I still remember her sweet face and lilting voice as she tucked my sheets in under my feet.
About a maid I'll sing a song ………
sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong,
She did very one of them in,
them in, she did every one of them in
Her mother she could never stand ………
sing rickety tickety tin
He mother she could never stand
and so a cyanide soup she planned
The mother died with a spoon in her hand,
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,
her face in a hideous grin
One morning in a fit of pique………
sing rickety tickety tin
One morning in a fit of pique
she drowned her father in the creek
she drowned her father in the creek
the water tasted bad for a week,
and we had to make do with gin, with gin,
we had to make do with gin.
She set her sister's hair on fire ………
sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
and as the smoke and flames rose higher
She danced around the funeral pyre,
A' playing a violin,
'olin, playing a violin
She chopped her baby bother in two
sing rickety tickety tin
She chopped her baby bother in two
And served him up in an Irish stew
And invited the neighbors in
'bors in, invited the neighbors in.
And when at last the police came by………
sing rickety tickety tin
And when at last the police came by
She said she could not tell a lie
She knew she could not tell a lie
And lying she knew was a sin,
a sin, lying she knew was a sin
My tragic tale I won't prolong………
sing rickety tickety tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
and if you do not enjoy my song
You've yourself to blame if it's too long,
you should never have let me begin,
begin , you should never have let me begin
No comments:
Post a Comment