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R. Linda:
I know that song because it be me Da's fav. He used to sing it when I was a wee tyke of a laddie. I always wondered who in merry green Ireland, Maryann was. Kept me busy for a good long time looking at me relatives waiting for the long lost Maryann. She never did show up and I forgot about her until he started humming the damn song when I was in me teens. Of course, then I thought me Da was having it on with some old flame. Upset me royal it did.
I even set to sneaking after him on his way to work. I was sure he was meeting up with her on his way there. Of course, it took me two months of being tardy to school to realise she was probably someone he worked with! Begorrah me, that dawned on me in the middle of a test on Jean Jacques Rousseau. I somehow got confused in me study on the French Revolution and romanticism by putting down that John Locke was the right inventor of said romantic revolution within the French one, and failed because me mind was on the ever present fantasy named Maryann.
This grand mistake was something me instructor never let me forget. He'd stop by me desk and say, "John Locke, huh? Grand Frenchman was he right Gabriel?" Oh the embarrassment of mistaking an Englishman for a French romantic, as if you know John Locke, he was anything but.
But I digress. I was seeing a brown haired, brown eyed Irish lass with fair skin as a wee itty-bitty, but then as a teen she was a brown haired, red eyed English girl with freckles! I was beholden me Mam was the better looking of the two, because me Da settled with her and not this elusive Maryann, who probably did live down by the seaside. I reckoned that for meself when I realised the only woman at me Da's work was Rachel Mahoney, and she had to be twice his age, large as a cathedral and woo wee she had a face (actually three if you count her chins), that could stop a clock from two miles distant.
I gave up on who she was because me tardiness kept me after school for at least six months and after me time was done, I got zapped by me sister. I had no inclination to investigate because as you will remember, me sissy made me her spy, so she could go sneaking off to the laundrette to meet that Dolan person she later married. By then, I reckoned sneaking off ran in me father's side of the family, that's what me sister had inherited from him.
Then when I was near finished with university, actually it was the day I was graduating from university that I was standing in me lovely gown of graduation (och, such status) next to me Da, me Mam fiddling with her camera to take a picture to record the event (as proof to me relatives I actually did go to university and see here, graduated!), when he started humming the song as he waited for her to make her camera adjustments.
Well, I must say if you could see that picture, I be standing next to me humming Da (of course you don't know he's humming because it is after all a silent picture), looking at him askance (askance here meaning in stunned surprise), that he would be humming a song about another woman in me Mam's sainted presence no less!
I did say through the side of me mouth (and that is another snapshot that looks strange, me with me lips on one side of me face and me dad smiling and humming -- of course it is a silent hum since it be a photograph), and I said to him (and try this please through the side of your mouth as if he was on your right), "Da! Mam's here are you a nutter or what singing about that infernal Maryann person?"
Did you try to say it like that? I tell you I look downright as stupid as you look doing it in that photograph and no, don't even ask me I will not be sending pictures of me mug looking stupid in a university gown. Was a mouthful and it was met with a "What?"
Yes, a simple "what" to me long garbled sentence of inquiry. He had no idea what I was talking about and in the next picture I be smiling (forced smile), and he is looking directly at me like I've lost me mind.
All this haggling of a gentle nature upset me Mam because she was not getting the sunny side of both of us together. It was singly or not at all. She kept on clicking and complaining and he was now talking out of the side of his mouth at me and me back and if you see the rest of these disappointing photographs, it looks we are both either retarded or have been given a good dose of Novocain.
No need to belabour this, I did find out that Maryann did not exist shortly after me Mam threw up her hands in true photographic frustration and flounced off to sit and wait for commencement to begin. Me Da stood looking at me like instead of a graduate with a degree in journalism, I had attained the rank of lunatic par excellent.
"What ails you Gabriel?" He asked me, no nix that, he demanded of me.
And I said, "You have sung or hummed that song about this Maryann person all me short life, and I don't think you should do it in front of Mam. Discretion Da, discretion."
I thought I was very adult about this, but his reaction made me feel like a wee itty-bitty again, when he started laughing and asking if that was all I learned in university was the word discretion, because I missed the follow-up class obviously, because in his opinion, I was misusing the word and was it the only one I half learned?
He said nothing more on the subject which perplexed me for the rest of the day UNTIL (and I remember it exactly), it was after the family took me off for a congratulatory dinner, then a small party at me house with friends and more family, that at 11:00 p.m. GMT, me Da walked over to the ancient phonograph and got out a little RPM record and played, THE MARYANN SONG!
He stood there toasting me "at your discretion Gabe," and singing along at which everyone his age that was there, started singing along, and because they were all fools, toasting yours truly like I knew this all along, which I did not. They were too drunk to ask why it was being played and sung at me "discretion."
So yes, I do know the song and quite well. Because now every time I return home, me father greets me with it (at me discretion).
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I know that song because it be me Da's fav. He used to sing it when I was a wee tyke of a laddie. I always wondered who in merry green Ireland, Maryann was. Kept me busy for a good long time looking at me relatives waiting for the long lost Maryann. She never did show up and I forgot about her until he started humming the damn song when I was in me teens. Of course, then I thought me Da was having it on with some old flame. Upset me royal it did.
I even set to sneaking after him on his way to work. I was sure he was meeting up with her on his way there. Of course, it took me two months of being tardy to school to realise she was probably someone he worked with! Begorrah me, that dawned on me in the middle of a test on Jean Jacques Rousseau. I somehow got confused in me study on the French Revolution and romanticism by putting down that John Locke was the right inventor of said romantic revolution within the French one, and failed because me mind was on the ever present fantasy named Maryann.
This grand mistake was something me instructor never let me forget. He'd stop by me desk and say, "John Locke, huh? Grand Frenchman was he right Gabriel?" Oh the embarrassment of mistaking an Englishman for a French romantic, as if you know John Locke, he was anything but.
But I digress. I was seeing a brown haired, brown eyed Irish lass with fair skin as a wee itty-bitty, but then as a teen she was a brown haired, red eyed English girl with freckles! I was beholden me Mam was the better looking of the two, because me Da settled with her and not this elusive Maryann, who probably did live down by the seaside. I reckoned that for meself when I realised the only woman at me Da's work was Rachel Mahoney, and she had to be twice his age, large as a cathedral and woo wee she had a face (actually three if you count her chins), that could stop a clock from two miles distant.
I gave up on who she was because me tardiness kept me after school for at least six months and after me time was done, I got zapped by me sister. I had no inclination to investigate because as you will remember, me sissy made me her spy, so she could go sneaking off to the laundrette to meet that Dolan person she later married. By then, I reckoned sneaking off ran in me father's side of the family, that's what me sister had inherited from him.
Then when I was near finished with university, actually it was the day I was graduating from university that I was standing in me lovely gown of graduation (och, such status) next to me Da, me Mam fiddling with her camera to take a picture to record the event (as proof to me relatives I actually did go to university and see here, graduated!), when he started humming the song as he waited for her to make her camera adjustments.
Well, I must say if you could see that picture, I be standing next to me humming Da (of course you don't know he's humming because it is after all a silent picture), looking at him askance (askance here meaning in stunned surprise), that he would be humming a song about another woman in me Mam's sainted presence no less!
I did say through the side of me mouth (and that is another snapshot that looks strange, me with me lips on one side of me face and me dad smiling and humming -- of course it is a silent hum since it be a photograph), and I said to him (and try this please through the side of your mouth as if he was on your right), "Da! Mam's here are you a nutter or what singing about that infernal Maryann person?"
Did you try to say it like that? I tell you I look downright as stupid as you look doing it in that photograph and no, don't even ask me I will not be sending pictures of me mug looking stupid in a university gown. Was a mouthful and it was met with a "What?"
Yes, a simple "what" to me long garbled sentence of inquiry. He had no idea what I was talking about and in the next picture I be smiling (forced smile), and he is looking directly at me like I've lost me mind.
All this haggling of a gentle nature upset me Mam because she was not getting the sunny side of both of us together. It was singly or not at all. She kept on clicking and complaining and he was now talking out of the side of his mouth at me and me back and if you see the rest of these disappointing photographs, it looks we are both either retarded or have been given a good dose of Novocain.
No need to belabour this, I did find out that Maryann did not exist shortly after me Mam threw up her hands in true photographic frustration and flounced off to sit and wait for commencement to begin. Me Da stood looking at me like instead of a graduate with a degree in journalism, I had attained the rank of lunatic par excellent.
"What ails you Gabriel?" He asked me, no nix that, he demanded of me.
And I said, "You have sung or hummed that song about this Maryann person all me short life, and I don't think you should do it in front of Mam. Discretion Da, discretion."
I thought I was very adult about this, but his reaction made me feel like a wee itty-bitty again, when he started laughing and asking if that was all I learned in university was the word discretion, because I missed the follow-up class obviously, because in his opinion, I was misusing the word and was it the only one I half learned?
He said nothing more on the subject which perplexed me for the rest of the day UNTIL (and I remember it exactly), it was after the family took me off for a congratulatory dinner, then a small party at me house with friends and more family, that at 11:00 p.m. GMT, me Da walked over to the ancient phonograph and got out a little RPM record and played, THE MARYANN SONG!
He stood there toasting me "at your discretion Gabe," and singing along at which everyone his age that was there, started singing along, and because they were all fools, toasting yours truly like I knew this all along, which I did not. They were too drunk to ask why it was being played and sung at me "discretion."
So yes, I do know the song and quite well. Because now every time I return home, me father greets me with it (at me discretion).
Gabe
Copyright © 2005 All rights reserved
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