My father was the one who sang to us, but he made odd choices. What, more normal, songs did I miss out on?
My father’s favourites were:
Patsy Fagan
Chorus:
Hello Patsy Fagan, you can hear the girs all cry,
Hello Patsy Fagan, you’re the apple of my eye,
You’re a decent boy from Ireland, that no-one can deny,
You’re a harum, scarum, divil may-care-um, decent Irish Boy
and
Last train to San Fernando
Chorus:
If you miss this one,
There’ll never be another one,
biddi biddi bum bum
To San Fernando
My Pop would sing Hush Little [Daithi], Don’t Say a Word, and Bah-Bah Black Sheep, but he’d always improvise and set up a funny dialogue between Bah-Bah and himself. He was a gas man…
Christmas Eve, Mom would sing me all the carols she knew, even the Spanish ones. Thankfully, they both had lovely voices.
As a side note, I always pictured the Virgin Mary as being rather zaftig because I interpreted the lyrics in Silent Night as “round, young virgin,” rather than “round yon Virgin!”
Mom sang us “Ghost Riders In the Sky” as a lullaby. I love telling people that. Makes my mom sound like a real weirdo.
Their brands were still on fire,
And their hooves were made of steel.
Their horns were black and shiny
And their hot breath he could feel,
A bolt of fear went through him
As they thundered through the sky.
The he saw the riders comin’ hard
And he heard their mournful cry:
Yippee kiy-yaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy . . .
Yippee kiiiy-yoooo-ooooo . . .
*Don’t the moon look lonesome shinin’ through the trees . . .
Don’t the moon look lonesome shinin’ through the trees . . .
Don’t the house look lonesome when your baby packs up to le-eave . . .
Sent for you yesterday and here you come today . . .
Sent for you yesterday, here you come today . . .
You CAAAAAN’T love me, Baby, and treat me that-a-waaaaaaaayyyyyy . . . *
To this day I have no idea what song that is, but I’m pretty sure my Dad didn’t make it up . . .
My mom sang Delta Dawn, and if that wasn’t bad enough, mt grandpa’s standard lullaby was Hank Williams’ I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry. No wonder I’ve always been the pessimistic sort!
I caught myself singing it to Bella the other day, then decided to switch over to Tom Sawyer.
You know, you can make any song a pretty lullaby if you sing it gently.
Really, try it. Sing Welcome to the Jungle. Sing* Crazy Train*.
Give your kid some personality.
Of course they will, and warmly. I hadn’t thought of my parents singing to me in the longest while, and when I saw this thread I got a big ol’ goofy smile on my face, just from remembering.
Down in the valley, valey so low.
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.
Hear the wind blow, dear.
Hear the wind blow.
Angels in heaven, hear the wind blow.
And
*In the pines, in the pines,
Where the sun never shines… *
And
*It takes a worried man to sing a worried song.
It takes a worried man to sing a worried song.
I’m worried now, but I won’t be worried long. *
Gee, no wonder Mama was depressed all the time.
The song’s audience must be perched on the singer’s knee, and the singer must make the appropriate trotting or galloping motions.
He’d also sing the one about the One-Eyed, One-Horned, Flying Purple People Eater, and one that’s apparently called “The Thing”.
Mom sang You Are My Sunshine to me for a while, but I was extremely sensitive and found it terribly upsetting.
Qadgop sang a lot, though not particularly tunefully. His songs usually prompted me or my sister to shriek “EEEEEE! DAAAAAAAAD!” until he stopped, ungrateful wretches that we were. I’m sure he’ll remind me of more songs once he reads this, but right now all I can remember him singing is the theme song from My Mother The Car.
Dad sang Jeepers Creepers, Istanbul/Constantinople, and Mairzy Doats. My mom knows millions of songs and sang them to us a lot. I’ve got sixpence, That’s where my money goes, Oh baby telephone, You are my sunshine, Tavern in the town… the list is pretty endless. I must have the same kind of brain as she does, because I know a lot of songs and sing them to my kids too. (Unfortunately, this also means that about half my brain is given over to knowing every 80’s/early90’s songs, and being able to sing the whole thing upon hearing a few notes.)
Am I the only one who heard Toora Loora Loora(l) growing up? I don’t know if my grandmother picked it up from Bing Crosby and changed it a bit or if she learned a variation from her Irish parents, but it’s a family tradition. It’s a great lullaby, though a little sad now that Grandma’s gone.
Another one my mom sang was Three Little Fishies, ya know the one that goes “Boop boop dit-tem dat-tem what-tem Chu!” Great fun, and my daughter adores it.
Dad sang Mairsy Doats, You are my sunshine, Rum and CoCA cola, and the one about the dam. Doop doop diddle daddle waddum chew - and they swam and they swam right up to the dam.
Mom sang everything - hymns, pop songs, folk songs, opera, whatever.
*For California, for California,
The hills send back the cry, we’re out to do or die,
For California, for California,
We’ll win the game or know the reason why.
And when the game is over,
We will buy a keg of booze,
And drink to California
'til we wobble in our shoes.
So drink (tra la la),
Drink (tra la la),
Drink, drank, drunk last night,
Drunk the night before*
I swear to Og, I knew most of the words to this song by the time I was five or six years old.
