Lisa Mednick Powell

Poetry for January 8

This week we wave goodbye to one of the greatest, most swingin-est drummers ever: Tommy Ardolino of NRBQ has left the building. It made Kip and me very sad to hear about this. If you've seen NRBQ, you know what I am talking about here. If not, you can find lots of their stuff on youtube and here are a couple to get you started: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&v=Ieqkxl4Te9g&NR=1 and... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQbtepB_O2Y Not only were the ’Q’ one of the bestest bands ever, and not only has Terry Adams, the piano/ clavinova player been a hero of mine forever (I tried years ago to actually BE Terry Adams, but well, you know...), they were also capable of high comedy. One night in DC at the Wax Museum they played “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” for their last tune. Then, they played it again for their encore. Then, it was piped over the PA system as we all left the building. That was funny, but then the thing is, you know that song? The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald? It is a really great song. This was how people got the news in olden times. From ballads. And just FYI: When I check out, leave the building, kick the bucket, buy the farm, fear the reaper, etc.....I don’t want an obit. I want a damn ballad. Warning: This video is a tribute to the drowned sailors, complete with Harry Reasoner's newscast--and it is six minutes long. But it is well done and I really think you should watch it now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgI8bta-7aw Finally, here is a version of the Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens. My sources tell me this is by a poet named "Anon." P.S. If you know what an "eldern knicht" is, tell me. Sir Patrick Spens The king sits in Dumferling town Drinking the bluid-red wine: 'O whar will I get a guid sailor To sail this ship of mine?' Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's richt knee: 'Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor That sails upon the sea.' The king has written a braid letter And signed it wi' his hand, And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick read A loud lauch lauched he; The next line that Sir Patrick read, The tear blinded his ee. 'O wha is this has done this deed, This ill deed done to me, To send me out this time o'the year, To sail upon the sea? 'Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all, Our guid ship sails the morn.' 'O say na sae, my master dear, For I fear a deadly storm.' 'Late, late yestre'en I saw the new moon Wi'the old moon in his arm, And I fear, I fear, my dear master, That we will come to harm.' O our Scots nobles were richt laith To weet their cork-heeled shoon, But lang or a' the play were played Their hats they swam aboon. O lang, lang may their ladies sit, Wi'their fans into their hand, Or ere they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the land. O lang, lang may the ladies stand Wi'their gold kems in their hair, Waiting for their ain dear lords, For they'll never see them mair. Half o'er, half o'er to Aberdour It's fifty fathoms deep, And there lies guid Sir Patrick Spens Wi'the Scots lords at his feet. If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man. - Pudd'nhead Wilson Read the blog, sign the guestbook, and download songs for free: http://www.lisamednickpowell.com