The Irish Ballad

SPOKEN LIVE INTRODUCTION:
Now I'd like to turn to the folk song, which has become in recent years the particularly fashionable form of idiocy among the self-styled intellectual. we find that people who deplore the level of current popular songs -- although I admit they do seem to be recording almost anything these days. Have you heard Sesue Hayakawa's record of "Remember Pearl Harbor"? These same people who deplore the level of current popular songs and yet will sit around enthralled singing "Jimmy Crack Corn and I Don't Care" or "Green Grow the Rushes, Oh!" -- whatever that means. At any rate, for this elite I have here an ancient Irish ballad, which was written a few years ago, and which is replete with all the accoutrements of this art form. In particular, it has a sort of idiotic refrain, in this case "Rickety-tickety-tin" you'll notice cropping up from time to time, running through, I might add, interminable verses. The large number of verses being a feature expressly designed to please the true devotees of the folk song who seem to find singing fifty verses of "On Top of Old Smokey" is twice as enjoyable as singing twenty-five

This type of song also has what is known technically in music as a modal tune, which means -- for the benefit of any layman who may have wandered in this evening -- that I play a wrong note every now and then

This song though does differ strikingly from the genuine folk ballad in that in this song the words which are supposed to rhyme - actually do

I, ah, I really should say that I do not direct these remarks against the vast army of folk song lovers, but merely against that peculiar hard core who seem to equate authenticity with artistic merit and illiteracy with charm

Oh, one more thing. One of the more important aspects of public folk singing is audience participation, and this happens to be a good song for group singing, so if any of you feel like joining in with me on this song, I'd appreciate it if you would leave right now

SUNG:
[Verse 1]
About a maid I'll sing a song
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did ev'ryone of them in, them in
She did ev'ryone of them in

[Verse 2]
One morning in a fit of pique
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
One morning in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin, with gin
We had to make do with gin

[Verse 3]
Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide soup she planned
The mother died with a spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
Her face in a hideous grin

[Verse 4]
She set her sister's hair on fire
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose high'are
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playin' a violin, -olin
Playin' a violin

[Verse 5]
She weighted her brother down with stones
Rickety-tickety-tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to davy jones
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin

[Verse 6]
One day when she had nothing to do
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
One day when she had nothing to do
She cut her baby brother in two
And served him up as an irish stew
And invited the neighbors in, -bors in
Invited the neighbors in

[Verse 7]
And when at last the police came by
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she did not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin
Lying, she knew, was a sin

[Verse 8]
My tragic tale, I won't prolong
Rickety-tickety-tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
And if you do not enjoy the song
You've yourselves to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin