Abdul Abulbul Amir...
My grandfather sings.
Both of my grandfathers sing, actually, but my mother's father, Grandpa Don, has imparted on his children and grandchildren a far grander list of folksongs over the years.
It's strange, when I stop and think about it. It's occured to me more than a few times over the course of this year, mostly because I know, by heart, the Georgia Tech fight song (the Ramblin' Wreck--I'm told there's another, less alcohol induced version) for no good reason other than that my grandfather used to break out into it when I was little. I fell asleep as a toddler to my mother singing Abdul Abulbul Amir and there was many a long car ride full of The Overalls in Mrs. Murphy's Chowder. I can sing all the words to RagTime Cowboy Joe, and Eddie GouchiGachiGammaTonsinariOsinogaSamaCamaWackiBrown (Spelling highly debated in folksong circles, I've found) rolls off my tongue like honey.
I can't sing a tune to save my soul. My future children will not be so lucky, and they'll certainly never learn any of these songs in a consistent key, at least not from me. There was an autistic boy I used to nanny for, when I was in high school, who loved singing and didn't care that i couldn't carry a tune, so long as I kept trying...still, it's one of those legacies that leaves a little bit of a bitter twinge behind it.
But my aunt Laura spent months assembling a CD for this Christmas of songs grandpa sang all the time for years...and listening to it (and listening to my grandfather and grandmother, and my mother, and my sister and brother, all join in, right along with me, on every damn song)...there's something terribly special about that.
Stupid sentimental holidays.
The sons of the Prophet are many and bold
and quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdul Abulbul Amir.
Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame
in the troops that were led by the Czar,
And the bravest of these was a man by the name
of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
One day this bold Russian, he shouldered his gun
and donned his most truculent sneer,
Downtown he did go where he tred on the toe
of Abdul Abulbul Amir.
"Young man," quoth Abdul, "has life grown so dull
That you wish to end your career?
Vile infidel know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.
They fought all that night neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar,
And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame,
of Abdul and Ivan Skavar.
The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer,
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh,
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.
Czar Petrovich, too, in his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car.
He arrived just in time to exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls,
And graved there in characters clear,
Is, "Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."
A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,
'Neath the light of the cold northern star,
And the name that she murmurs in vain as she weeps,
is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
Both of my grandfathers sing, actually, but my mother's father, Grandpa Don, has imparted on his children and grandchildren a far grander list of folksongs over the years.
It's strange, when I stop and think about it. It's occured to me more than a few times over the course of this year, mostly because I know, by heart, the Georgia Tech fight song (the Ramblin' Wreck--I'm told there's another, less alcohol induced version) for no good reason other than that my grandfather used to break out into it when I was little. I fell asleep as a toddler to my mother singing Abdul Abulbul Amir and there was many a long car ride full of The Overalls in Mrs. Murphy's Chowder. I can sing all the words to RagTime Cowboy Joe, and Eddie GouchiGachiGammaTonsinariOsinogaSamaCamaWackiBrown (Spelling highly debated in folksong circles, I've found) rolls off my tongue like honey.
I can't sing a tune to save my soul. My future children will not be so lucky, and they'll certainly never learn any of these songs in a consistent key, at least not from me. There was an autistic boy I used to nanny for, when I was in high school, who loved singing and didn't care that i couldn't carry a tune, so long as I kept trying...still, it's one of those legacies that leaves a little bit of a bitter twinge behind it.
But my aunt Laura spent months assembling a CD for this Christmas of songs grandpa sang all the time for years...and listening to it (and listening to my grandfather and grandmother, and my mother, and my sister and brother, all join in, right along with me, on every damn song)...there's something terribly special about that.
Stupid sentimental holidays.
The sons of the Prophet are many and bold
and quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest by far in the ranks of the Shah,
Was Abdul Abulbul Amir.
Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame
in the troops that were led by the Czar,
And the bravest of these was a man by the name
of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
One day this bold Russian, he shouldered his gun
and donned his most truculent sneer,
Downtown he did go where he tred on the toe
of Abdul Abulbul Amir.
"Young man," quoth Abdul, "has life grown so dull
That you wish to end your career?
Vile infidel know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.
They fought all that night neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar,
And huge multitudes came, so great was the fame,
of Abdul and Ivan Skavar.
The Sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer,
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh,
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.
Czar Petrovich, too, in his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car.
He arrived just in time to exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.
There's a tomb rises up where the Blue Danube rolls,
And graved there in characters clear,
Is, "Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."
A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,
'Neath the light of the cold northern star,
And the name that she murmurs in vain as she weeps,
is Ivan Skavinsky Skavar.