Song Parodies -> We Gather Together
| Original Song Title: | "We Gather Together" |
| Original Performer: | Traditional |
| Parody Song Title: | "We Gather Together" |
| Parody Written by: | Invisible Boy |
Greetings buckos. Time to hoist a jar or two of The Black Stuff. Let’s pound a few bevvies until we’re peloothered. A banjaxed Orangeman was kind enough to lend me this original song for today.
We Gather Together
We gather together to drink the green lager
To eat the boiled cabbage and brisket so tough
We know without warning the drinking starts at morning
Sing praises for this day…we just can’t get enough
Beside us to guide us, is Erin-go-braless
The redser* from Southie** starts humming a tune
The shots she is bringing…“The Unicorn” we’re singing
Though wasted is our state…it is still only noon
Today we’re all Irish, though our names don’t show it
Just ask Patel, Valdamier, Pedro or Saul
Let’s toast to sedition…in true Sein Finn tradition
And drink until we puke…O Saint Pat bless us all
IB
We gather together to drink the green lager
To eat the boiled cabbage and brisket so tough
We know without warning the drinking starts at morning
Sing praises for this day…we just can’t get enough
Beside us to guide us, is Erin-go-braless
The redser* from Southie** starts humming a tune
The shots she is bringing…“The Unicorn” we’re singing
Though wasted is our state…it is still only noon
Today we’re all Irish, though our names don’t show it
Just ask Patel, Valdamier, Pedro or Saul
Let’s toast to sedition…in true Sein Finn tradition
And drink until we puke…O Saint Pat bless us all
IB
* Gingernut, Redhead
** South Boston…think of the movies Mystic Rivaah or The Depaahdid
** South Boston…think of the movies Mystic Rivaah or The Depaahdid
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As m' auld friend Oscar WIlde would say, "Work is the curse of the drinking class."
Beannachtam na Feile Padraig. :-)
But re Ireland and music ... while traveling in Ireland last last October, stopped in for a pint at Dick Mack's pub in DIngle early one afternoon, while the place was full of locals, unsullied by other such tourists as I. Got to yakking with said locals, 1 of whom turned out to be a musician--an Englishman become "Dinglish," he said, having never left after arriving there as a tourist 16 years before--glugging in prep for his evening's gig at another pub in town. "Mike's" thing, tho' wasn't the ubiquitous flute & harp tootle and twang tarditional Irish music, but American blues, and when I asked if he did Delta blues à la, say, Robert Johnson, with a John Cleese-y "Say no more!" he dashed to his car to fetch his guitar and launched into an impromtu concert of blues tunes. Maybe 20 minutes in, he was joined by "John," another musician joined in, then sang several ballads himself, a capella, in a wonderful baritone. I'm not generally a fan of weepy Irish ballads, but his delivery of one new to me called "Johnny, Don't Leave"--abetted, probably, by whatever the Guinness count had by then become--nearly made me weep. Anyway, point of story ... a third musician then arrived, very natty and tweedy, a bit older, and veryone was begging "Bob, it's your turn, now, sing us a song! Sing us an Irish song." When no one was forthcomning with a request I suggested a few I remembered as popular during the end-of-'50s folk music rage here stateside--"Gypsy Rover," "The Whistling Gypsy," "Whiskey in the Jar," etc. Turned out I was the only one there who knew (most of) the words to any of those. No problem ... seems Irish lads of a certain age are pretty good at making up off-color verses to "Molly Malone" on the fly. :-)
Beannachtam na Feile Padraig. :-)
But re Ireland and music ... while traveling in Ireland last last October, stopped in for a pint at Dick Mack's pub in DIngle early one afternoon, while the place was full of locals, unsullied by other such tourists as I. Got to yakking with said locals, 1 of whom turned out to be a musician--an Englishman become "Dinglish," he said, having never left after arriving there as a tourist 16 years before--glugging in prep for his evening's gig at another pub in town. "Mike's" thing, tho' wasn't the ubiquitous flute & harp tootle and twang tarditional Irish music, but American blues, and when I asked if he did Delta blues à la, say, Robert Johnson, with a John Cleese-y "Say no more!" he dashed to his car to fetch his guitar and launched into an impromtu concert of blues tunes. Maybe 20 minutes in, he was joined by "John," another musician joined in, then sang several ballads himself, a capella, in a wonderful baritone. I'm not generally a fan of weepy Irish ballads, but his delivery of one new to me called "Johnny, Don't Leave"--abetted, probably, by whatever the Guinness count had by then become--nearly made me weep. Anyway, point of story ... a third musician then arrived, very natty and tweedy, a bit older, and veryone was begging "Bob, it's your turn, now, sing us a song! Sing us an Irish song." When no one was forthcomning with a request I suggested a few I remembered as popular during the end-of-'50s folk music rage here stateside--"Gypsy Rover," "The Whistling Gypsy," "Whiskey in the Jar," etc. Turned out I was the only one there who knew (most of) the words to any of those. No problem ... seems Irish lads of a certain age are pretty good at making up off-color verses to "Molly Malone" on the fly. :-)
"Erin go braless". . .laughed my shilelagh off.
i'm "a-green" ya should get fives here
Right on, IB...and Happy SPD from AFW
I echo John Barry's comment. 555
Thanks Stan...good story...I tried to make up a verse for "Molly Malone" but I couldn't think of a word to rhyme with "pretty"
Thanks John...I hope it grows back
Thanks alvin
AFW...a belated happy SPD to you as well
Thanks Jason
Thanks John...I hope it grows back
Thanks alvin
AFW...a belated happy SPD to you as well
Thanks Jason
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