Cremation of Sam McGee/Star of the County Down

[dubhlinn]

Cool idea Carol,
I think that somebody got there first though..alas.

These two guys pitched it about halfway between Monty Python and Samuel Beckett with a sprinkling of Dario Fo thrown in for good measure.
I suppose a re-make - or adaptation as they say in Hollywood - with Woody Allan and Colin Farrell ( Yeats is on the curriculm in Irish schools so young Farrell is bound to have heard the name if nothing else)might have legs.
The original had a huge horse as well so that would have to be kept in - Animals sell! (Just think of the kiddie market for cuddly toys).
My local boozer would make an ideal location if it was cleaned up a bit.
The Dubliners version of “The Ragmans Ball” could be re-mixed with a techno/house/garage spin for the soundtrack (Think Celine Dion/Titanic..Mega bucks).
The only problem I can see is the casting of “..that raving slut who keeps the till.” I have a few ideas but Dale is very touchy about libel so I will mention no names at this stage…

To be continued…

Slan,
D.

[burnsbyrne]

I (and all of my fellow 11th grade English students) had to memorize “Cremation” by reciting it at the beginning of every class, standing up, until our teacher arrived. Kept us from horsing around and it got us to exercize our memories. I have been wanting to find a copy of it since I don’t remember it any more. Thanks for the text. I’ll see if I can cram it back into my head. But I thought there were many more verses.
Mike

[Darwin]

@Walden

@jim stone

I’ve set the Iliad to music, to the tune of This Land is Your Land.

Itself being set to the tune of When the World’s on Fire.

Yep. Woody being a shameless melody thief. (And little Bobby Zimmerman following in his footsteps.)

Back in the early '60s we used to do “Jabberwocky” to the classic '50s I-VIm-IV-V chord progression, with a bit of a Calyspo feel. In C, it would be:

       C                   Am

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

   F                     G

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.

   C                     Am

All mimsy were the borogroves

          F                     G

And the mome raths outgra-ha-ha-ha-habe.

[gonzo914]

@burnsbyrne

I (and all of my fellow 11th grade English students) had to memorize “Cremation” by reciting it at the beginning of every class, standing up, until our teacher arrived. Kept us from horsing around and it got us to exercize our memories. I have been wanting to find a copy of it since I don’t remember it any more. Thanks for the text. I’ll see if I can cram it back into my head. But I thought there were many more verses.
Mike

There’s lots more verses, and copies all over the net. Here’s one – http://www.hyperborea.org/writing/sammcgee.html

You were lucky in the 11th grade. We had to memorize Thanatopsis –

To him who in the love of Nature holds
communion with her visible forms, she speaks
a various language dum-de-dum-de-dum
de-dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-dum-de-dum-

and so it lumbers iambically on for another 80 or so lines.

Oh, god, the pain. it still hurts.

[peteinmn]

@gonzo914

We all know that just about any Emily Dickenson poem can be sung to the tune of “Yellow Rose of Texas,” but did you know that Robert Service’s “Cremation of Sam McGee” can be sung to the tune of “Star of the County Down.”

Try it with some representative verses –

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
When I cremated Sam McGee.
. . . .
Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.
. . . .
Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.
. . . .
And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.
It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

Granted, this is nowhere near as interesting as Hilary’s campaign finances or Shrub flim-flamming the American public about Iraq or even as interesting as a dead bird, but it is has kept me amused all day.

And so much more fun than flogging each other over that political crap all the time.

[emmline]

Actually, Byrnes, it is quite a bit longer than that–the posted portion starts after Sam dies…he hangs around bemoaning the cold for a couple verses before he croaks. All the verses are equally important and non-excisable.

[Flyingcursor]

@Darwin

Back in the early '60s we used to do “Jabberwocky” to the classic '50s I-VIm-IV-V chord progression, with a bit of a Calyspo feel. In C, it would be:

I always refer to that as the “Last Kiss” progression. I’m trying to think of the “Hit the Road Jack” progression but it escapes me.