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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
Jim Carroll Foul-mouthed Folkies (119* d) RE: Foul-mouthed Folkies 01 Jun 20


"I just think it's very lazy speech,"
On the contrary - it is extremely - sometimes too robust
The beauty of out languages is their richness and scope, ranging from strongly the 'in your face' unsubtlty of songs, from:

Th'owd chap came ower t' bank, bawling for his tea,
Saw a pair o' mucky clogs where his owd clogs should be,
Come here wife, come here wife, what's this here! see?
How come this mucky pair o' clogs where my owd clogs should be?
Y'owd bugger, ye daft bugger, can't you plainly see?
Them's just a couple of pickle-jars me owd mam sent to me,
I've been ower hills and dales, me lass,
And many a grassy moor,
But girt hob-nails on a pickle-jar I've never seen before

Th'owd chap came ower t' bank, bawling for his tea,
Saw a coat on back o' t' door, where his owd coat should be,
Come here wife, come here wife, what's this here I see?
How come this coat on t back o' tf door, where my owd coat should be?
Y'owd bugger, ye daft bugger, can't you plainly see?
That's just an owd dish-clout me old mam sent to me.
I've Been Ower Hills And Dales, Me Lass,
And Many A Grassy Moor,
But Buttons On A Dish-Clout I've Never Seen Before.

Th'owd chap came ower t' bank, bawling for his tea,
Saw a head on t' pillow where his owd head should be,
Come here wife, come here wife, whats this here I see?
How come this head on t' pillow, where my owd head shoald be?
Yowd bugger, ye daft bugger, can't you plainly see?
That's just a home-grown turnip me owd mam sent to me.
I've been ower hills and dales, me lass,
And many a grassy moor,
But girt big teeth in a turnip I've neves seen before.

Th'owd chap came ower t' bank, bawling for his tea,
Saw a pair of hairy cods where his own cods shoald be.
Come here wife, come here wife, what's this here I see?
How come this pair of hairy cods where my own cods shoald be ?
Yowd bugger, ye daft bugger, cant yoa plainly see?
That's just a couple of home-grown spuds me owd mam sent to me.
I've been ower hills and dales, me lass,
And many a grassy moor,
But home-grown spuds with hairs on
I've never seen before.

Th' owd chap came ower t' bank, bawling for his tea,
Saw a girt big standing prick where his owd prick should be,
Come here wife, come here wife, whats this here I see?
How come this girt big standing prick where my owd prick should be?
Y'owd bugger, ye daft bugger, can't you plainly see?
That's just a home-grown carrot me owd mam sent to me.
I've been ower hills and dales, me lass,
And many a grassy moor,
But a carrot diggin' a great big hole Ive never seen before.

....to Ophelia's "nothing" (between her legs)
Both are considered obscene to some - I think they have their own strengths and beauty, while at the same time being precise and very visual
Much of our folk vernacular is based on the ability to shock - particularly its narrative humour

Irish society was strictly controlled up to comparatively recently thanks to the influence of The Church (now very much weakened by the revelations of widespread child rape covered up, probably for well over a century, by the hierarchy)
It is refreshing to see changes we believed would never come about
Shortly after we moved here over 20 years ago we went to see a short film (now, in my opinion, regarded a classic)
It ran for about ten minutes and was totally silent, it depicted a schoolteacher entering a classroom to find someone had scrawled on the board; "MR CASEY IS A CNUT"
Furously he searches out the culprit and when he discovers the culprit, drags him to the front of the class and forces him to write the sentence over and over again in the hope the child gets the spelling right - he fails to
I despair, the teacher grabs the chalk, cleans off what the child has written and scrawls in high letters, "MR CASEY IS A CUNT" - just as the Mother Superior headmistress of the school walks though the door - the nun collapses in horror
That, for me, is bawdy humour at its very best
Jim


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