fandomhigh | Music Is Love: Friday 3/16

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Music Is Love: Friday 3/16 - Third Period

Upon entering the classroom, students will immediately notice that the room has been decked out in green.

Green shamrocks. Green hats. Green drinks. And for some reason there's a shamrock shake dispenser in the corner.

When the students have all taken their seats the lights dim and fast paced Irish music begins to play as Lorne jumps out on to the stage and attempts to dance like Micheal Flatley.

Along with a horde of weetiny!penguins wearing green top hats with shamrocks on them.

And because he's Lorne? He is the Lord of the Dance.

When the song and dance is complete he bows and grabs a towel from offstage to mop his damp brow and horns. The penguins follow him around continuing to jig.

"In case ye couldn't tell lads and lassies! Today's theme is fer IRELAND! Sing! Dance a Jig! Sing an Irish drinking song!" Lorne exclaimed as he headed for the judges table. "Our judges today are the cute little guys in miniature tuxedos. Now if you don't mind I think I'm going to pass out from exhaustion."

[~~obligatory wait for~~ OCD is up!]

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...

Naomi Wildman

Katara

Sokka

Cassie Lang

Jo Harvelle

Summer Roberts

Ray Kowalski

Molly Hayes

Alec

Miley Stewart

Greg Sanders

Door

Dean Winchester

Demyx

...

Cassie attempted to sing 'Danny Boy'.

But barely got two words in before her voice faltered, and she started to cry. This was promptly followed by her running out of the classroom, still sobbing.

Poor emo kid.

Ray took the stage and grabbed the microphone.

Its of an Irishman I'm going to tell you
Free from Ireland sailed away
Where he was to he was not contended
Made up his mind for to go away

Early next morning the ship was sailing
Queenstown harbour, golden core
Eight long days he was sailing over
Till he landed in New York

Up the street young Paddy wandered
Each big building caught his eye
Looking up at a big shop window,
A bottle of whisky he did spy

Into the bar young Paddy entered
Called for a drink, without delay
Give me a drop of that Irish Whiskey,
Four big coppers I will pay

The landlord he jumped over the counter
"Pay me down that bill", he said
Paddy up with a big shillelagh
Laid him on the floor right dead

So the Yankees they came running
When they heard about the row
Trying to kill poor Irish Paddy,
Shouting out, "Where is he now?!"

Irishmen they followed after
Following without delay
Each of them with a big shillelagh,
Made the Yankees run away

May God's success to his Irish people
Many's the country they have roamed
But their courage is far bolder
When they're far away from home

Of course, he tried to sing that with an Irish accent just for fun. It didn't work well.

Miley came out on stage and grinned before starting in a very poorly, but cheerfully sung Irish drinking song.

I had a lobotomy
and now I'm not so nuts
they took away half my brain
now I eat cigarette butts

I am not too bright
now I'm kinda sane
I am really stupid
hey, is that the rain

Oh, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie oh!

I used to go down on the streets
I used to have a scar
Now I ask for money
and I chase cars *bark bark*

But when I come into your town
I like to shout a lot
I run around and scream a lot
wow dis is hot!

Oh, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie oh!

Oh, I feel much better
I think I'll go back home
and then after I'm finished
I'll marry a lawn gnome

Boy that'd be so beautiful
as happy as can be
because I don't care too much you see
for my lobotomy!

Oh, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie oh!

I really need a job now
I look in the paper
But I can't never find nothing
I have a scraper!

But I'll keep on looking
I'll looking through a glass
If you want someone who's nuts
host your own music class!

Oh, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie, eidie oh!

[from here (http://youtube.com/watch?v=8_lk_YRlYYs&mode=related&search=) with a change in the last stanza. Any errors in the lyrics are due to me and my inability to type while laughing.]

Alec had found this song on the internet. The irony of singing a song about Ireland from an American country artist didn't seem to bother him.

They say mother earth is breathing
With each wave that finds the shore
Her soul rises in the evening
For to open twilight's door
Her eyes are the stars in heaven
Watching o'er us all the while
And her heart it is in Ireland
Deep within the Emerald Isle.

We are forty against hundreds
In someone else's bloody war
We know not why we're fighting
Or what we're dying for
They will storm us in the morning
When the sunlight turns to sky
Death is waiting for its dance now
Fate has sentenced us to die.

Ireland, I am coming home
I can see your rolling fields of green
And fences made of stone.
I am reaching out, won't you take my hand?
I'm coming home Ireland.

Oh, the captain he lay bleeding
I can hear him calling me
"These men are yours now for the leading
Show them to their destiny "
And as I look up all around me
I see the ragged tired and torn
I tell them to make ready
'Cause we're not waiting for the morn.

Ireland I am coming home
I can see your rolling fields of green
And fences made of stone.
I am reaching out won't you take my hand
I'm coming home, Ireland.

Now the fog is deep and heavy
As we forge the dark and fear
We can hear their horses breathing
As in silence we draw near
There are no words to be spoken
Just a look to say good-bye
I draw a breath and night is broken
As I scream our battle cry.

Ireland, I am coming home
I can see your rolling fields of green
And fences made of stone.
I am reaching out, won't you take my hand
I'm coming home Ireland.

Yes, I am home, Ireland

Door's got a few additional penguins she's brought with her from her own room, riding on her shoulders when she walks onstage. They've got weetiny skirts on that match the full one she's wearing. You probably shouldn't ask.

She lets them slide down her arms to the stage like a sledding hill, then steps up to the microphone with a flourish.

Then shrugs.

"This is a song about a duck."

Oh my name it is Nell and the truth for to tell
I come from Cootehill which I'll never deny
I had a fine drake and I'd die for his sake
That me grandmother left me and she goin' to die

The dear little fellow his legs they were yellow
He could fly like a swallow or swim like a hake
Till some dirty savage to grease his white cabbage
Most wantonly murdered me beautiful drake.

Door picks up her skirts and dances a fairly credible Irish jig as she sings. Truth to tell the dancing is better than the singing.

Especially considering she doesn't step on or kick the five tiny penguins also dancing around her feet.

Now his neck it was green, oh most fit to be seen
He was fit for a queen of the highest degree
His body was white, and it would you delight
He was plump, fat, and heavy and brisk as a bee

He was wholesome and sound, he would weigh twenty pound
And the universe round I would roam for his sake
Bad luck to the robber be he drunk or sober
That murdered Nell Flaherty's beautiful drake

May his spade never dig, may his sow never pig
May each hair in his wig be well trashed with the flail
May his door never latch, may his roof have no thatch
May his turkeys not hatch, may the rats eat his meal

May every old fairy from Cork to Dun Laoghaire
Dip him snug and airy in river or lake
That the eel and the trout they may dine on the snout
Of the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake

May his pig never grunt, may his cat never hunt
May a ghost ever haunt him the dead of the night
May his hens never lay, may his horse never neigh
May his coat fly away like an old paper kite

That the flies and the fleas may the wretch ever tease
May the piercin' March breeze make him shiver and shake
May a lump of the stick raise the bumps fast and quick
On the monster that murdered Nell Flaherty's drake

Well, the only good news that I have to infuse
Is that old Paddy Hughes and young Anthony Blake
Also Johnny Dwyer and Corney Maguire
They each have a grandson of my darlin' drake

My treasure had dozens of nephews and cousins
And one I must get or me heart it will break
For to set me mind easy or else I'll run crazy
So ends the whole song of Nell Flaherty's drake.

The artist name of the song she chose made Molly giggle when she found it.

Must it take a life for hateful eyes
To glisten once again
Five hundred years like Gelignite
Have blown us all to hell
What savior rests while on his cross we die
Forgotten freedom burns
Has the Shepard led his lambs astray
to the bigot and the gun

Must it take a life for hateful eyes
To glisten once again
Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess
Singin' drunken lullabies

I watch and stare as Rosin`s eyes
Turn a darker shade of red
And the bullet with this sniper lie
In their bloody gutless cell
Must we starve on crumbs from long ago
Through these bars of men made steel
Is it a great or little thing we fought
Knelt the conscience blessed to kill

Must it take a life for hateful eyes
To glisten once again
Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess
Singin' drunken lullabies

Ah, but maybe it`s the way you were taught
Or maybe it`s the way we fought
But a smile never grins without tears to begin
For each kiss is a cry we all lost
Though there is nothing left to gain
But for the banshee that stole the grave
Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess
Singin' drunken lullabies

I sit in and dwell on faces past
Like memories seem to fade
No colour left but black and white
And soon will all turn grey
But may these shadows rise to walk again
With lessons truly learnt
When the blossom flowers in each our hearts
Shall beat a new found flame

Must it take a life for hateful eyes
To glisten once again
Cause we find ourselves in the same old mess
Singin' drunken lullabies

Dean stepped up to the mic and sang:

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;

"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's steel
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;

And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!

Katara wasn't too sure about this Ireland thing, but she giggled a lot at the song.

As I went home on Monday night,
as drunk as drunk could be.
I saw a horse outside the door,
where my old horse should be.
I called my wife and I said to her:
Will you kindly tell to me,
who owns that horse outside the door,
where my old horse should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see.
That's a lovely sow that my mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more,
but a saddle on a sow, sure, I never saw before.

As I went home on Tuesday night,
as drunk as drunk could be.
I saw a coat behind the door,
where my old coat should be.
I called my wife and I said to her:
Will you kindly tell to me,
who owns that coat behind the door,
where my old coat should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see.
That's a woolen blanket that my mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more,
but buttons on a blanket, sure, I never saw before.

As I went home on Wednesday night,
as drunk as drunk could be.
I saw a pipe upon the chair,
where my old pipe should be.
I called my wife and I said to her:
Will you kindly tell to me,
who owns that pipe upon the chair
where my old pipe should be.
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see.
That's a lovely tin-whistle, that my mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more,
but tobacco in a tin-whistle, sure, I never saw before.

As I came home on Thursday nigh,
as drunk as drunk could be.
I saw two boots beside the bed,
where my old boots should be.
I called my wife and I said to her:
Will you kindly tell to me,
who owns them boots beside the bed
where my old boots should be.
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see.
They're two lovely flower pots my mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more,
but laces in flower pots I never saw before.

As I came home on Friday night,
as drunk as drunk could be.
I saw a head upon the bed,
where my old head should be.
I called my wife and I said to her:
Will you kindly tell to me,
who owns that head upon the bed,
where my old head should be.
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see.
That's a baby boy, that my mother sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more,
but a baby boy with his whiskers on, sure, I never saw before.

As I came home on a Saturday night,
as drunk as drunk could be
I spied two hands upon her breasts,
where my old hands should be.
I called to my wife and I said to her:
Will you kindly tell to me,
Who's hands are these upon your breasts,
where my old hands should be?
Oh, you're drunk, you're drunk,
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see
'Tis nothing but a Living Bra Jane Russell gave to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more,
but fingernails on a Living Bra, I never saw before.

Now when I came home on Sunday night,
a little after three.
I saw a man running out the door
with his pants about his knee.
So I called to my wife and I said to her:
would you kindly tell to me,
who was that man running out the door
with his pants about his knee?
Oh you're drunk, you're drunk,
you silly old fool, and still you cannot see,
Twas nothing but the tax collector the Queen sent to me.
Well, it's many a day I've travelled, a hundred miles or more,
But an Englishman that could last 'till three I never saw before.

Demyx didn't understand a word of it, but the song itself was bouncy and it was fun!

A 'níon mhín ó, sin anall na fir shúirí
A mháithairin mhín ó, cuir na roithléan go dtí mé

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Tá ceann buí óir ar an dúlamán gaelach
Tá dhá chluais mhaol ar an dúlamán maorach

Bróga breaca dubha ar an dúlamán gaelach
Tá bearéad agus triús ar an dúlamán maorach

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Góide a thug na tíre thú? arsa an dúlamán gaelach
Ag súirí le do níon, arsa an dúlamán maorach

Rachaimid chun Niúir leis an dúlamán gaelach
Ceannóimid bróga daora ar an dúlamán maorach

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Ó chuir mé scéala chuici, go gceannóinn cíor dí
'Sé'n scéal a chuir sí chugam, go raibh a ceann cíortha

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Cha bhfaigheann tú mo 'níon, arsa an dúlamán gaelach
Bheul, fuadóidh mé liom í, arsa an dúlamán maorach

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí, b'fhearr a bhí
Dúlamán na binne buí, dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, b'fhearr a bhí, b'fhearr a bhí
B'fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

...

"What's an Ireland? Why is it green?"

Or just play with the penguins

Katara approached Lorne after class. "Scuse me? Professor?"

Lorne is lord of something. I need to find out what.

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Music Is Love: Friday 3/16 - Third Period

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Chat!

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Talk to Lorne!

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OOC: [3/16]