Monday, February 28, 2005

A Loewe Trick

Last night, couldn't sleep (and wouldn't sleep), owing to an ill-defined itch to parody the chorus of Jolson's "Avalon." (I find no convenient link to assist those who don't remember the tune; you'll have to go rummage through those old Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole records.)

This morning, after wrestling with "Caliban" ("I much prefer the Taliban to Caliban") and dipping into "billabong" ("Let's charge a glass or fill a bong to billabong"), I settled on "Camelot." The result turned out to be the most frightful drivel:

The topless tow'rs of Camelot
Are moss-grown stubs;
The fabled arms of Camelot
Adorn men's clubs;
The drawbridge into Camelot
Has gone to pot--
And that's why people swam a lot
In Camelot.

Lyric © 2005 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov


Blogger Reeves said...

I wonder whether your Camelot musings grew from a repressed memory of a wonderful and oft-quoted poem:

Arthur Guiterman, "On The Vanity Of Earthly Greatness"

The tusks that clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.

The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is ferric oxide, known as rust.

The grizzly bear whose potent hug
Was feared by all, is now a rug.

Great Caesar's bust is on the shelf,
And I don't feel so well myself.

10:21 AM  
Blogger npetrikov said...

reeves, it was not repressed at all, but came right out in the open when the words "men's clubs" came to me--Guiterman's billiard balls must have been the link. Clever of you to pick up on it.

10:54 AM  

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