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 |   A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| An Old Song Remembered The strangest things pop into my head at times and what follows is a song/routine that I must have heard as long ago as the fifties. It is actually dated 1923 so it was a surprise that Google found it immediately when I entered the few words I remembered. The song contains a lesson that would do us all good (especially in the depths of winter) and I print the lyrics here in their entirety: My Word You Do Look Queer By Bob Wesion & Bert Lee (I923) Performed by Ernest Hastings I’ve been very poorly but now I feel prime, I've been out today for the very first time. I felt like a lad as I walk'd down the road, Then I met old Jones and he said, 'Well I'm blowed!' My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! Oh, dear! You look dreadful: you've had a near shave, You look like a man with one foot in the grave.' I said,'Bosh! l'm better; it's true I've been ill.' He said,'I'm delighted you're better, but still, I wish you'd a thousand for me in your will. My word, you do look queer!' That didn't improve me, it quite put me back, Still, I walk'd farther on, and I met Cousin Jack. He look'd at me hard and he murmur'd,'Gee whiz! It's like him! It can't be! It isn't! It is! By gosh! Who'd have thought it? Well, well, I declare! I'd never have known you except for your hair. 'My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! Your cheeks are all sunk and your colour's all gone, Your neck's very scraggy, still you're getting on. How old are you now? About fifty, that's true. Your father died that age, your mother did too. Well, the black clothes I wore then'll come in for you. My word! You do look queer!' That really upset me; I felt quite cast down, But I tried to buck up, and then up came old Brown. He stared at me hard, then he solemnly said, 'You shouldn't be out, you should be home in bed. I heard you were bad, well I heard you were gone. You look like a corpse with an overcoat on. 'My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! You'd best have a brandy before you drop dead.' So, pale as a sheet I crawl'd in the 'King's Head', The barmaid sobbed, 'Oh you poor fellow,' and then She said, 'On the slate you owe just one pound ten You'd better pay up, we shan't see you again. My word you do look queer!' My knees started knocking, I did feel so sad. Then Brown said, 'Don't die in a pub, it looks bad He said, 'Come with me, I'll show you what to do. Now I've got a friend who'll be useful to you.' He led me to Black's Undertaking Depot, And Black, with some crepe round his hat said, 'Hello, 'My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! Now we'll fix you up for a trifling amount. Now what do you say to a bit on account?' I said,'I'm not dying.'He said,'Don't say that! My business of late has been terribly flat, But I'm telling my wife she can have that new hat My word, you do look queer!' I crawl'd in the street and I murmur'd,'I'm done.' Then up came old Jenkins and shouted,'Old son!' 'My word you do look well! My word you do look well! You're looking fine and in the pink!' I shouted, 'Am I? Come and have a drink! You've put new life in me, I'm sounder than a bell. By gad! There's life in the old dog yet. My word I do feel well!' Word count: 646 |
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