Writing lyrics to Whiskey in the Jar: harder than it looks
March 17, 2016 10:41 AM Subscribe
Way back in 2013 I inadvertently managed to win a Best Comment contest here on MetaFilter, with the prize being a custom recorded song, courtesy of greenish. I knew immediately what I wanted it to be: I've long thought there needed to be a version of the traditional Irish song Whiskey in the Jar told from the woman's (Molly or Jenny, depending on the version) point of view. So I've been trying to come up with some lyrics for it, but hate everything I've written and have now taken entirely too long. Perhaps we can have a St. Patrick's Day miracle here?
Whiskey in the Jar generally features a highwayman who robs a rich captain, brings the ill-gotten goods back to his wife or girlfriend Jenny or Molly, then goes to take a nap. While he's sleeping Jenny informs the authorities and fills his pistols with water so he can't retaliate. Dude gets captured and spends the rest of the song blaming Jenny for the miserable situation he's in.
But I'm thinking this guy is kind of a lout. He committed a crime and now expects his girlfriend to hide both him and and the evidence. Jenny probably just wants stability and a boyfriend/husband who isn't a thief. Maybe she realizes she's in an abusive relationship. Maybe she's just learned that she's pregnant and doesn't want to go on the lam with a child in tow. So she cleverly disarms him, alerts the victim, and gets out of Dodge. In my fantasy dream world, she takes the reward money and opens up a pub named Sporting Molly. Maybe the captain she helped is kinda sweet on her after that, but she wants little to do with him after that bad relationship she just got out of. She is still worried about reprisals from his brothers and keeps a pair of pistols behind the bar ready for the day when they show up.
The only stanza I've got that I actually like and want to keep is the last one:
While some take delight in tatting and weaving
others take delight in child rearing
well I take delight in being brisk and jolly
and pouring out good whiskey, stout down at the Sporting Molly
(Mods, I realize this might be considered ChatFilter: will cheerfully repost (perhaps in MetaTalk?) or paddle off quietly.)
Whiskey in the Jar generally features a highwayman who robs a rich captain, brings the ill-gotten goods back to his wife or girlfriend Jenny or Molly, then goes to take a nap. While he's sleeping Jenny informs the authorities and fills his pistols with water so he can't retaliate. Dude gets captured and spends the rest of the song blaming Jenny for the miserable situation he's in.
But I'm thinking this guy is kind of a lout. He committed a crime and now expects his girlfriend to hide both him and and the evidence. Jenny probably just wants stability and a boyfriend/husband who isn't a thief. Maybe she realizes she's in an abusive relationship. Maybe she's just learned that she's pregnant and doesn't want to go on the lam with a child in tow. So she cleverly disarms him, alerts the victim, and gets out of Dodge. In my fantasy dream world, she takes the reward money and opens up a pub named Sporting Molly. Maybe the captain she helped is kinda sweet on her after that, but she wants little to do with him after that bad relationship she just got out of. She is still worried about reprisals from his brothers and keeps a pair of pistols behind the bar ready for the day when they show up.
The only stanza I've got that I actually like and want to keep is the last one:
While some take delight in tatting and weaving
others take delight in child rearing
well I take delight in being brisk and jolly
and pouring out good whiskey, stout down at the Sporting Molly
(Mods, I realize this might be considered ChatFilter: will cheerfully repost (perhaps in MetaTalk?) or paddle off quietly.)
Oh, this is fun. I'm going to keep playing with this, but I've got an idea for a first verse:
When I was a young lass in the Cork and Kerry mountains,
I loved bonny Sian Farrell and he loved me, he swore
But before I knew what he had put in my belly,
My bonny Sian Farrell went off to the war.
posted by ourobouros at 12:43 PM on March 17, 2016 [1 favorite]
When I was a young lass in the Cork and Kerry mountains,
I loved bonny Sian Farrell and he loved me, he swore
But before I knew what he had put in my belly,
My bonny Sian Farrell went off to the war.
posted by ourobouros at 12:43 PM on March 17, 2016 [1 favorite]
Really needs to keep the original's meter and rhyme scheme IMO.
'Twas late one summer evening when I spied my man a-coming;
His back was heavy weighted down and a drunk song he was humming.
The pack he spilled and showed to me was fair to stuffed with plunder,
The gold and jewels he let me see, for sure it was a wonder.
(Chorus)
Such riches scared me half to death, and he tried the remainder,
Swearing if I took a single coin, my life would be in danger.
He told me he had gained it all by robbing Captain Farrell,
And then the blackguard staggered off to embrace his love, the barrel.
(Chorus)
I first looked to our fine young son and then looked to our daughter,
And swore that in my home we'd have no cause for English slaughter.
Then for the hundredth time at least, I worked as he was sleeping.
This time he woke, the guards were there, and his weapons in my keeping.
(Chorus)
My man he went away that day, and all our quarrels with him,
And the bruises, and the scratches, and the fear for my young children.
Some women yearn for jewels and gold, beeswax and soft white flour,
But all I need's to keep on free, and under no man's power.
(Chorus)
Soliloquy, you have a one-time use license for greenish to record it for this project if you like! Other than that, still (c) me, all rights reserved.
posted by booksandlibretti at 5:58 PM on March 17, 2016 [6 favorites]
'Twas late one summer evening when I spied my man a-coming;
His back was heavy weighted down and a drunk song he was humming.
The pack he spilled and showed to me was fair to stuffed with plunder,
The gold and jewels he let me see, for sure it was a wonder.
(Chorus)
Such riches scared me half to death, and he tried the remainder,
Swearing if I took a single coin, my life would be in danger.
He told me he had gained it all by robbing Captain Farrell,
And then the blackguard staggered off to embrace his love, the barrel.
(Chorus)
I first looked to our fine young son and then looked to our daughter,
And swore that in my home we'd have no cause for English slaughter.
Then for the hundredth time at least, I worked as he was sleeping.
This time he woke, the guards were there, and his weapons in my keeping.
(Chorus)
My man he went away that day, and all our quarrels with him,
And the bruises, and the scratches, and the fear for my young children.
Some women yearn for jewels and gold, beeswax and soft white flour,
But all I need's to keep on free, and under no man's power.
(Chorus)
Soliloquy, you have a one-time use license for greenish to record it for this project if you like! Other than that, still (c) me, all rights reserved.
posted by booksandlibretti at 5:58 PM on March 17, 2016 [6 favorites]
Response by poster: Credit will be given wherever credit (and permission) is due! Even if I have to list a dozen different songwriters.
posted by Soliloquy at 7:19 PM on March 17, 2016
posted by Soliloquy at 7:19 PM on March 17, 2016
This thread is closed to new comments.
My father marred me off
To that drunken thieve'n no-good,
Always tramping over the mountains
To some other man's woman.
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
He took all my virtue and left me with the children
To whom he never gave a care and went off whoring in Kenmare,
But devil take the drunkard for he never work a day.
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
That day our cupboards were empty,
And I just home from the mill,
When he stumbled in my chambers,
And relieved his bladder in the corner,
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
Through his slurred broken words,
I learn he's robed Farrell's son.
so pleased with himself, he cackled like a mad man:
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
"We'll both hang" I said "our children will be orphans"
"And the Frarrells have always helped us when we had nothing"
He stumbled in his mess and passed out on the floor.
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
Rage came and I thought to cut him
and leave him bled out on my bed
but I howled til the morning and cackled like a witch:
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
He says I took his carving knife,
and that I did, he says I fouled his powder
but soiled that charge himself,
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
My sons are now in the army
and their Uncle keeps guides them well,
what happens when that drunk gets out jail who can tell who can tell?
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
Musha ring dumb a do dumb a da.
Whack for my daddy-o,
Whack for my daddy-o.
There's whiskey in the jar-o.
posted by bdc34 at 11:54 AM on March 17, 2016 [5 favorites]