I’m feeling pretty harried this week, because I’m teaching using a new curriculum, which requires all-new lecture slides and notes and homework assignments. I’m also going away this weekend, to Williamstown for the celebration marking the 50th anniversary of the founding of my college rugby club.
As a result, I’ve been losing more mental processor cycles than usual to thinking about my own college days, and remembering the lyrics to the dozens and dozens of songs I used to know. So, because it’s on my mind anyway, and because the mixing of college sports and alcohol would really cheese off the humorless scolds, here’s an audience poll question to fill some blog space while I frantically try to get two lectures ahead, because I don’t anticipate being in any shape to prep a class on Sunday night:
What’s your favorite drinking song?
This doesn’t have to be a traditional-type drinking song, along the lines of “Wild Rover” or that sort of thing– if you can’t have three beers without wanting to hear and sing along with “Sweet Home Alabama,” that works, too. Whatever you want to hear when you’re out boozing it up.
My answer actually has a tiny bit of science content:
As I said, I know a ton of rugby/ drinking songs, most of them more obscene than I’m willing to post here. I still find myself humming a few of them from time to time, often while in the lab.
My favorite single verse is probably this one (which is actually a double verse, but the chorus that would come after the second stanza was always dropped):
In the process of civilization
From anthropoid ape down to man
It’s been generally held that the Navy
Has buggered whatever it can.But, the recent scientific researches
Of Darwin and Huxley and Hall
Have conclusively shown that the hedgehog
Has never been buggered at all.So, we therefore feel our conclusion
Is incontrovertibly shown
That comparative safety on shipboard
Is held by the hedgehog aloneBut why don’t they do it at amherst,
Like they do it at Harvard and Yale,
And also at Oxford and Cambridge
By shaving ths apines off his tail?
(The chorus is the usual collection of nonsense– “rump-titty-titty-ay!” etc. The amherst reference (Williams’s big rival) is obviously a local addition to some older source.)
This almost certainly isn’t the hedgehog song so often referenced in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, but I’ve always associated this verse with that. There are a couple dozen other verses for this, that I don’t have the time to type out this morning, but will be stuck in my head all day.
Hands down, the Philosopher’s Song, that well-known Monty Python classic 😀
For me (as an alumnus of WVU) it has to be Country Roads by John Denver. But I must say that I am partial to anything by REM
I don’t drink, but I was definitely about to mention “The Hedgehog Can Never Be Buggered At All”, being a die-hard Pratchett fan. I guess I’ll settle for “A Wizard’s Staff Has A Knob On The End”.
I think anything written by Shane MacGowen, but that’s probably too easy.
Landlord fill the flowing bowl
Until it doth run over,
For tonight we’ll merry be,
for tonight we’ll merry be,
for tonight we’ll merry beeeeeeee,
Tomorrow we’ll be sober!
Beyond the obscene ones (aka North Atlantic Squadron), my classic drinking song goes:
Goddamn them all. I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold, shed no tears! (Spill no beers!) I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier, the last of Barrett’s privateers
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.
California Drinking Song — no contest!
(If I were non-partisan, I’d probably consider “Harbo & Samuelson”. But California Drinking Song is pretty darn good.)
The Rugby Queen song (or, as I like to call it, how I met my wife!).
Are you still playing Rugby? There is an excellent Master’s league. I was supposed to play this weekend, but there’s this thing called work…..
In Heaven there is no beer
(No beer?!)
That’s why we drink it here
And when we’re all gone from here
Our friends will be drinking all the beer.
In Heaven there is no wine
(No wine?!)
So we drink till we feel fine
And when we leave this all behind
Our friends will be drinking all the wine.
In Heaven there is no fear
(No fear)
So we worry too much here
And we drink ourselves full of beer
To help us when we deal with the fear.
In Heaven there are no drugs
That’s why we hang with thugs
And when the Lord pulls the plug
All the thugs will still be selling drugs, yeah.
I think the only “Drinking Song” I’ve ever acutally sung were some poorly remembered verses of Charlie Mops
Hands down, the Scotsman song…Yes, I actually know all the words to it…
Well a Scotsman clad in kilt left a bar on evening fair
And one could tell by how we walked that he drunk more than his share
He fumbled round until he could no longer keep his feet
Then he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
About that time two young and lovely girls just happend by
And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it’s true what they don’t wear beneath the kilt
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
I wonder if it’s true what they don’t wear beneath the kilt
They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold, for them to see, beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth
They marveled for a moment, then one said we must be gone
Let’s leave a present for our friend, before we move along
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon, tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
Around the bonnie star, the Scots kilt did lift and show
Now the Scotsman woke to nature’s call and stumbled towards a tree
Behind a bush, he lift his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what’s before his eyes.
O lad I don’t know where you been but I see you won first prize
Ring ding diddle diddle I de oh ring di diddly I oh
O lad I don’t know where you been but I see you won first prize
When drunk, who can resist the clarion call of “Asshole” by Dennis Leary?
I lost my pants again, again
I lost my pants again.
I woke up at dawn, and they were gone.
I lost my pants again.
Once upon a time, there were actual verses, but only the chorus survives.
You think that asking about drinking songs is a *Non*-Dorky poll?
From DaVinci’s Notebook:
Gather ’round, ye lads and lasses, set ye for a while
And hearken to me mournful tale about the Emerald Isle
Let’s all raise our glasses high to friends and family gone
And lift our voices in another Irish drinking song
Consumption took me mother and me father got the pox
Me brother drank the whiskey ’til he wound up in a box
My other brother in the Troubles met with his demise
My sister has forever closed her smiling Irish eyes
CHORUS:
Now everybody’s died
So until our tears are dried
We’ll drink and drink and drink and drink,
and then we’ll drink some more
We’ll dance and sing and fight
until the early morning light
Then we’ll throw up, pass out, wake up, and then go drinking once again
Kenny was killed in Kilkenny and Claire, she died in Clare
Tip from Tipperary died out in the Derry air
Shannon jumped into the River Shannon back in June
Ernie fell into the Erne, and Tom is in the Toome
“Cleanliness is godliness” me Uncle Pat would sing
He broke his neck a’slippin’ on a bar of Irish Spring
O’Grady, he was 80 though his bride was just a pup
He died upon the honeymoon when she got his Irish up
CHORUS
Joe Murphy fought with Reilly near the banks of old Doneen
He took out his shillelagh and he stabbed him in the spleen
Crazy Uncle Mike believed he was a leprechaun –
In fact he’s just a leper, and his arms and legs are gone
When Timmy Johnson broke his neck it was a cryin’ shame
He wasn’t really Irish, but he went to Notre Dame
McNamara crossed the street and by a bus was hit
But he was just a Scotsman, so nobody gave a (ARRGHH)
CHORUS
Me drunken Uncle Brendan tried to drive home from the bar
The road rose up to meet him when he fell out of his car
Irony was what befell my great-grand Uncle Sam
He choked upon the very last potato in the land
Conor lived in Ulster town, he used to smuggle arms
Until the British killed him and cut off his lucky charms
And dear old Father Flanagan, who left the lord’s employ
Drunk on sacramental wine, beneath the altar boy
CHORUS
(slower)
Someday soon I’ll leave this world of pain and toil and sin
The Lord will take me by the hand to join all of me kin
Me only wish is when the Savior comes for me and you
(a tempo)
He kills the cast of Riverdance, and Michael Flatley too
CHORUS (2x)
Dr. Pain: You think that asking about drinking songs is a *Non*-Dorky poll?
It involves alcohol, and thus is inherently non-dorky. At least by the logic employed by frat boys and rugby players…
“Dorky Poll” topics are restricted to science and engineering-related issues, and possibly SF fandom.
Its all for me grog, me jolly jolly grog
All for me beer and tobacco
well I spent all me tin
on the lassies drinkin’ gin
far across the western ocean I must wander
Where are me boots, me noggin’ noggin’ boots
They’re all gone for beer and tobacco
For the heels they are worn out
and the toes are kicked about
And the soles are looking out for better weather
Where is me shirt, my noggin’, noggin’ shirt?
It’s all gone for beer and tobacco
For the collar is all worn,
and the sleeves they are all torn
And the arse is looking out for better weather
I’m sick in the head and I haven’t been to bed
Since first I came ashore with me plunder
I’ve seen centipedes and snakes and me head is full of aches
And I have to take a path for way out yonder
Plus some bawdier versus I can’t seem to remember at the moment…
And the night is winding down, when the last set is through, its always a good time for chorus of “Bugger Off”:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbrzZWLu6Qw
My one regret is that I never could convince my grandfather to teach me the “other” lyrics to “Mademoiselle from Armentiers”, a WW I drinking song.
My dad taught me several from his frat days, which became scouting or car trip songs. One goes “Drink drink drink drink/ drank drank drank drank/ drunk drunk drunk drunk/ drunk last night. Drunk the night before. Gonna get drunk tonight like I never got drunk before. Cause when I’m drunk I’m as happy as can be/ cause I’m a member of the souse family. Now the souse family is the best family/ that ev-er came ov-er from old Germany. There’s the highland dutch and the low land dutch/ the Rotterdam dutch and the other damn dutch. Sing Glor-i-ous, Glor-i-ous/ one keg of beer for the four of us. And glory be to god that there are no more of us/ Cause one of us could drink it all alone …. Darn near.” Yes, my Mom put up with this. There are others, including one that started with “I’m a hayseed, my hair is seaweed” that might have come from his Navy days. Need to ask him about that!
One of my own favorites from one pub I was at is
Caviar comes from a virgin sturgeon/ A virgin sturgeon is a very fine fish/ No good sturgeon wants to be a virgin/ That’s why caviar is such a rare dish.
However, my physics buddies more likely to sing “99 bottles of beer” or “In heaven there is no beer” if we sang at all. We mostly told bad jokes.
The venerable “To Anacreon in Heaven”
though I’ve heard that the tune also goes by another name…
A Bottle of the Best
Words and Music by : Jack Foley
When your time o’ work is done, and you’ve earned yourself some fun,
In the pub you start to sup your drink, and clinkin’ every cup,
Through the pint-pots you’re perusing,
And you’re boozin ’till you’re snoozin’
And you’re losin’ all your senses to the drink!
But when all these folks so prim are swiggin’ swill up to the brim,
Wi’ nips o’ gin and numbered Pim’s wi’ sugar rubbed around the rim,
Let them drink it till they drop, for the sly besotted Scot,
He’ll be breakin’ out a bottle o’ the best!
Aye, to hell wi’ all the rest, give me a bottle o’ the best,
The amber bead I’ll down wi’ speed, it’s not half bad taste or waste, just greed.
And a whiskey still I’ll kill, I’ll drink my fill and if I spill a gill,
You know I will, I’ll lick it off the floor.
I’ll not touch Teacher’s, Grant’s, or Haig,
Give me Bowmore or Laphroiag,
Glen Farclass in a glass, well you can throw the top away.
For it’s no use to pretend that you’ll need the cork again,
When you broken out a bottle of the best.
And the English like their ale, warm and flat straight out the pail,
They aye slitter wi’ their bitter, that would slaughter Jack the Ripper,
And they sip their cider rough, they sniff their snuff and huff and puff
And as if that’s not enough they start to sing,
Of when Jone’s Ale Was New, and John Barleycorn’s Fine Brew,
Fathom the Bowl, the Barley Moe, Bring Us a Barrel, just a few,
But their songs are far surpassed by the tinkle in the glass,
When you’ve broken out a bottle of the best!
And the Irish wi’ their Pride o’ Erin think they can deride
Our golden water wi’ their patter when they’re out on the batter,
Sixteen hundred pints of stout, a drinkin’ bout without a doubt,
And if they’ve not got the gout, they start to dance.
To Father O’Flynn, and Larry O’Gaff, Biddy the Bowwife for a laugh,
The Young May Moon, The Garryowen,
The Blackbird Drives them daft
But their jigs have no appeal to the Scot who like to reel
When he’s broken out a bottle of the best!
Aye, a bottle of the best, that’s what it is, no idle jest,
No Mickey Finn, no bathtub gin, no rotgut wine that tastes like Vim,
Have no fear it’s not like beer, malt whiskey’s strong and bright and clear.
And it’s also bloody dear, but what the hell!
And it belts you in the belly, like a heavyweight Lochgelly,
A glow begins to grow, six in a row turns you to jelly,
As you fall down in a heap, then you dream perchance to sleep,
For you’ve broken out a bottle of the best!
Notes:
Nip – shot; Teacher’s, Grant’s, Haig – blended whiskeys
Bowmore, Laphroig, Glenfarclass – single malt Scotch whiskey
Slitter – make a mess, Bitter – English heavy beer
Jones Ale Was New, etc. – English drinking songs
Batter – a binge, Father O’Flynn, etc. – Irish dance tunes
Vim – bathroom cleanser, Lochgelly – a leather strap for
corporal punishment in Scottish schools
The Engineers’ Drinking Song, aka Lady Godiva
Chorus:
We are, we are, we are, we are, we are the Engineers
We can, we can, we can, we can, demolish forty beers
Drink rum, drink rum, drink rum all day, and come along with us
‘Cause we don’t give a damn for any old man who don’t give a damn for us!
Godiva was a lady who through Coventry did ride
To show the royal villagers her fine and pure white hide
The most observant man of all, an engineer of course,
Was the only one who noticed that Godiva rode a horse
There are many more verses, some PG, many NC-17, several dedicated to ribbing a certain highfalutin university in Harvard Square. Click the link on my name for details. One specifically is about a physicist:
A Physics man from MIT went out and drank his fill.
And then came to a strip joint, ’cause he had some time to kill.
The motions that he witnessed there excited all his nerves,
And he filled eleven napkins with equations of the curves.
Wer soll das bezahlen?
Wer soll das gekauft?
Wer had soviel Pinke Pinke?
Wer hat soviel Geld?
Last Saskatchewan Pirate
I don’t know why…. By I love to hear “Come on Eileen”
That DaVinci fella must have been Irish then. Tis a beautiful song Paul, and I’d like it sung at me funeral too.
I love “A Bottle of the Best”, too. If anyone wants to hear the greatest drinking song of all time, click this link: http://www.stickam.com/viewMedia.do?mId=182240874
We need the music!!11
Hunting for a song I learned in the 1940s, Google brought me to this page. #19 has most of it. My father taught me the following, the first part, missing from #19’s account, is sung to an opera tune (part of the anvil chorus, I think). I then proceeded to sing it on stage at summer camp when I was four, to the laughter of all the adults present. The words I learned follow:
I think it’s time we had a drink.
I think it’s time we had a drink.
I think it’s time we had a drink.
Time we had a darn good drink drink drink drink
Drank drank drank drank
Drunk drunk drunk drunk.
Drunk last night.
Drunk the night before.
I’m gonna get drunk tonight like I never got drunk before.
For when I’m drunk I’m as happy as can be,
For I’m a member of the souse family.
Now the souse family is the best family.
The best family to sail the cider sea.
There’s the highland Dutch, the low land Dutch,
The Rotterdam Dutch and the Mmm-Mmm Dutch (remember, I was four).
Sing glorious, sing glorious.
One cake (keg) of beer for the four of us.
Glory to heaven be there are no more of us
So the four of us can drink it all alone lone lone lone
Foam foam foam foam
Home home home home
Bed bed bed bed
Sleep sleep sleep sleep
(Snore)