Yesterday morning Fluff and I were discussing humourous songs from our pasts and she went on to post one of hers ( recommended reading) about the poor mixed - up alcoholic Swedish Finn. Today I have decided to tell you about one of mine.
As most of you know by now I spent some 13 years .... from grade nine onwards.... in a Catholic seminary aiming at the priesthood as my final goal........ the first stages in Ontario and Québec and the latter part for my theology in Italy. Now since I was having doubts about my calling I came home to spend some time in my home settings with all my old buddies. I have already told you about my "bestest" friend , Bill , whose birthday you all helped us celebrate last January 27th. Now I'd like to tell you about another one , Doug Purske , who hailed from Grande Prairie , Alberta.
To make a long story shorter........ during the Summer of 1962 Doug and I put together a ragtag band of poorly dressed misfits who could play a few instruments and sing rather well from years of training with Gregorian Chant ... in fact we were not bad at all !! So we decided to make the rounds of all the parish picknicks in the Peterborough - Kiwartha Lakes area that Summer....... challenge their teams to a softball game and put on a show and eat their food afterwards. Back then the Everly Brothers were riding high so we would do Bye , Bye Love , Wake UP Little Suzie , etc ... I would do my favourite for which I had won a prize on my first trip overseas on the RynDam... The Purple People Eater... and then on to many Country 'n Western songs that folks in Ennismore and Bobcaygeon thrived on....... even throw in a couple of hoedowns and reels as Ben McNally from Moose Jaw and Ralph McQuaid from Prince Edward Island could really tan the fiddle.
There was one song that Purske and I sang together that folks always asked for at the end by way of encore and I shall post the words below. I shall likewise post a few pics as I feel lucky to have such great mementos from the past.
We had an old truck with a piano mounted up near the cabin. In above pic I am MCing the show. We also had our old blue bus .... left to right , Purske , Doug McNulty ( my first cousin ) , Paul Curtin and myself.
In our advertizing that Summer we said we would perform just about anywhere and this photo seems to say it all. And now for the song , The Barefoot Boy With Boots On , written by Asa Martin of Kentucky.
h, the night was dark and cloudy
The moon was shining bright
The stars were casting burning rays
On the storm that raged that night
Lightening struck the cowshed
And the cows all chewed their cud
Moonlight set the prairie on fire
In the middle of the woods
Oh, the barefoot boy with boots on
Come a-shuffling down the street
His pants were full of pockets
And his boots were full of feet
He was born when he was a baby
His grandma’s pride and joy
His only sister was a girl
And his brother was a boy
He never was a triplet
But he always was a twin
His legs were fastened to his knees
Just below his chin
And his feet were fastened to his ankles
Several inches from his shoulder
And when he grew up he became a man
And everyday got older
He married him a woman
Who quickly became his wife
For you see he could not marry her
And maintain a single life
Her head was full of notions
And her mouth was full of tongue
They raised a dozen children
All born when they was young
Six boys, five girls
And then another child
They never tried to raise them right
Just let them grow up wild
And late in the evening
They’d send them off to bed
Not sure if they was living
And they wished they all was dead
The youngest was a baby
But the oldest was one first
The good one was the bad one
But the bad one was the worst
They never knew their ages
No, they never seemed to care
‘Cause they knew they had a birthday
And it came ‘round once a year
They never knew their father’s age
But they always had a hunch
That he was born before their time
Was the oldest of the bunch
And when they died they could not speak
Their names they could not tell
The girls all went to heaven
And the boys all went to
The organ peeled potatoes
Lard was rendered by the choir
When the parson rang the dishrag
Someone set the church on fire
“Hole smokes!” the preacher shouted
As he madly tour his hair
Now his head resembles heaven
For there’ll be no parting there
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