On Mon, 24 Apr 2006 17:53:55 -0700, Joe Ekaitis
When little foxes, coyotes and wolves won't brush their teeth, say their
prayers and go to bed, their mothers know exactly which threat works best.
Variations on:
http://www.lyon.edu/wolfcollection/songs/colliefox1231.html
(look at the name of the performer, and the researcher... ? <G>)
{Though I favor the lyrics found in: Folksongs of Britain and Ireland...
(Skipping the repeated lines for brevity)
The fox came out one wintry night
And prayed for the moon to give him light
For he'd many a mile to go that night
Before he reached his den-o
And when he came to the old park gate
Where he'd often been both early and late
It made his poor bones to shiver and shake
When he heard the full cry of the hounds-o
At last he came to a farmer's yard
Where the ducks and the geese to him were barred
Now the best of you shall grease my beard
Before I leave the farm-o
He grabbed the grey goose by the neck
And laid the duck across his back
And heeded not their quack-quack-quack
With their legs all dangling down-o
Old mother Slipper-Slopper jumped out of bed
Down went the window and out popped her head
Yelling: John, John, John, the grey goose is gone
And the fox he has cone o'er the moor-o
Now John rushed up to the top of the hill
And blowed his horn both loud and shrill
Blow one, said the fox, your pretty music still
Whilst I trot back to my home-o
At last he reached his cosy little den
Where sat his young ones, eight, nine, ten
Quoth they: O Daddy, you must go there again
For sure 'tis a lucky town-o
Then the fox and his wife without any strife
They carved up the goose without fork or knife
And said: 'Twas the best they'd ever tasted in their life
And the young ones nibbled the bones-o
--
============================================================ <
============================================================ <
Home Page: <http://www.dm.net/~wulfraed/> <