Given that we were discussing Lallans/Scots the other week, and that Hamlet parodies seem to be a bit of a fave round here, I thought you might enjoy this -- the lyrics of a song by the Glaswegian folk singer/teacher Adam MacNaughton: Oor Hamlet.

And for those of you struggling with the Scots dialect (though this isn't a very extreme example) here's the English folk singer Martin Carthy's anglicised version: Oor Hamlet.

I've never actually heard AM perform it, but I've heard MC's version several times -- it's a real hoot (I was reminded of it as I heard a clip of it on the radio a couple of days ago).

Anyway, enjoy . . .



Post Edited (07-25-03 20:43)

Jesus saves; Buddha does incremental backup.

That is something else! Thanks for posting that, Guy - it's made my day!



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That which does not kill us makes us stranger.
(Llewelyn the dragon, Ozy and Millie)

Sarah

I memorized a version very close to the Anglicised one a few years ago, from an old tape made from the radio by a friend of mine. No idea who was singing it, and there are some word differences from the posted version (folk process in action), such as 'but because he's not yet willing for obligatory killing, he tried to make his Uncle think he's tuppence off the shilling.'

What's frightening is that that song covers more of the plot than several movie versions, and takes less than 3 minutes to sing.



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"I've often said that the difference between British and American SF TV series is that the British ones have three-dimensional characters and cardboard spaceships, while the Americans do it the other way around."
--Ross Smith

It's absolutely BRILLIANT - made me laugh for ages... thanks Guy! (and btw to explain the most incomprehensible reference in the Lallans version for those of you who aren't Scots - 7:84 is (was?) a very good theatre company in Scotland who took their name from the fact that when they were formed - about 25 years ago? - 84% of Scotland was owned by 7% of the population. It's not very different now fwiw.)



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If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur.

*round of applause* fantastic.

It was Adam McNaughtan who wrote Skyscaper Wean (apparently actually called The Jeelie-piece song) that I posted a while ago. Fab.



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Do something pretty while you can...

Loved the Scots Hamlet. I'd love to hear Alan Cumming singing or reciting that.

Alison - my financial advisers have recently changed their name to 75.3 and I suspect that is the percentage of my hard earned cash that they take as commission.

Speaking of Scotland, what does anyone know about Eigg Island?



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Those who forget the pasta are doomed to reheat it.

"Skyscraper Wean"? That wouldn't be the one about flinging "pieces" from a twenty-storey flat, would it? If it was, I missed it, I'm afraid!



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That which does not kill us makes us stranger.
(Llewelyn the dragon, Ozy and Millie)

Sarah

Holly: Bet you're right!

Dante: That sounds fabulous too - I'll look for it...



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If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur.

Hmm. After a quick search, it appears that I completely failed to post it, though I did mention it in passing. How strange.

Anyway, it's a well-known song up here, kids sing it at school:

I'm a skyscraper wean; I live on the nineteenth flair;
But I'm no' gaun oot tae play ony mair,
'Cause since we moved tae Castlemilk, I'm wastin' away
'Cause I'm gettin' wan less meal every day.

Refrain:
Oh ye cannae fling pieces oot a twenty storey flat,
Seven hundred hungry weans'll testify to that.
If it's butter, cheese or jeely, if the breid be plain or pan,
The odds against it reaching earth are ninety-nine tae wan.

On the first day ma maw flung oot a daud o' Hovis broon;
It came skytin' oot the windae and went up insteid o' doon.
Noo every twenty-seven hoors it comes back intae sight
'Cause ma piece went intae orbit and became a satellite.

On the second day ma maw flung me oot a piece again.
It went and hut the pilot uv a fast low-flying plane.
He scraped it aff his goggles, shouting through the intercom,
'The Clydeside Reds huv goat me wi' a breid-an-jeely bomb'.

On the third day ma maw thought she would try another throw.
The Salvation Army band was staundin' doon below.
'Onward, Christian Soldiers' was the piece they should've played,
But the oompah man was playing a piece an' marmalade.

We're wrote away to Oxfam to try an' get some aid,
An' a' the weans in Castlemilk have formed a 'piece brigade'.
We're gonnae march to George's Square demanding civil rights
Like nae mair hooses over piece-flinging height.


Hee. I'll be singing it all night, now. If you go here you can hear a sample, though it takes ages to download.



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Do something pretty while you can...

Oooh, thanks for that, Dante - long time, no hear! It was sung to me round about twenty years ago by Best Friend's Evil Boyfriend, and is the one good thing I remember about him.

Dido sends a plock to Ffrodo, by the way. :-)



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That which does not kill us makes us stranger.
(Llewelyn the dragon, Ozy and Millie)

Sarah

Tell you what Dante, I do know it - but I'm frae Edinburgh so it's a different version! (Highly reminiscent, now I come to think of it, of 'Ye cannae push yer grannie off a bus')



Post Edited (07-26-03 22:02)

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If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur.

I heard somebody singing "You cannie shove your grannie oot a twenty storey flat" to the tune of skyscraper the other day...interesting!



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Do something pretty while you can...

Brilliant! Mind you, I think wir grannie might have appeared in our version too... but that was a rip off of a rip off of yours I think... Iona & Peter Opie eat yer hearts out!



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If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur.

Has anyone seen that somebody has rewritten the Italian Job using Shakespeare lines?



PSD

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This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

Stay, fellows, for methinks a plan I have
Despite this our perilous state at present

Did I not say to thee, that naught but the sanguine portals were to be destroyed?



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I am very interested in the Universe. I am specialising in the Universe and everything surrounding it. - E. L. Wisty

apparently the posters have the tagline 'Thou were't only suppopsed to blow the bloody doors off', but I can't quite place the play...



PSD

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This is the work of an Italian narco-anarchic collective. Don't bother insulting them, they can't read English anyway.

Apparently there was a sequel planned to 'The Italian Job'. The driver ran the engine, consuming all the petrol, thus making the rear of the bus lighter. The passengers jump out together and the bus falls down the mountainside. The mafia collect the gold, and the rest of the film was to be about stealing it back from them. The project was shelved as the original film did not do well in the USA.

As a lover of the Great Melancholy Dane, I was delighted to hear Martin Carthy's version of this, but Richard Thompson's current song version of Hamlet, found on the occasional naughty CD is superb and well worth hunting out.