Monday, August 22, 2005

Scots Wha Hae wi' Wallace Bled

I spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning in Flavortown, among a company that included a Scotsman who now lives in New Hampshire. As thin as a lath, with a close-trimmed snow-white beard. Besides telling me a string of jokes starring that venerable trio, the Scotsman, the Irishman and the Englishman, and describing to me a five-couple Scottish dance he had recently choreographed, he re-introduced me to the delights of finnan haddie by cooking Sunday brunch for us. In a word—repeated—: yum, yum!

After dinner on Saturday, my host begged for a song and I, feeling that the company was not too mixed, sang my posting of August 17, 2005 (below), the second line of which now (fortunately) reads By someone who's a whiz at collage. At the mention of Deloitte & Touche, the Scotsman doubled over with laughter. Mind, he was a most undour Scotsman to begin with; still, it was gratifying to get a rise out of him.

Some Caledonian influence must have come home with me, for this morning a parody of Harry Lauder's I Love a Lassie (link it yourself, dammit) popped into my head in the time it took to descend one escalator at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. When I reached the office, an idea for Roamin' in the Gloamin' came upon me. A medley of Harry Lauder stuff seemed like a fruity scheme, and the following is der Anfang:

Roamin' Willy Loman
Has come home at last to die.
Loman's the cognomen
Of a most successful guy;
Yes, with sons like Hap and Biff,
He's a very lucky stiff.
Χαίρετε νικώμεν, Willy Loman!

* * * *

I love a brassie,
A niblick and a mashie,
And I'm keener than mustard on the links.
Yes, I'm keener than mustard,
But one thing has me flustered:
Frankly, my golf game stinks.

Lyric © 2005 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

For those whose ancient Greek is rusty, Χαίρετε νικώμεν is what Pheidippides is said to have remarked on arriving from Marathon. It means, roughly, "Rejoice! We are victorious!"

The trip to and from Flavortown was ginchy, by the way. I took the back roads instead of the Thruway. It added two hours to the trip each way, but it was two hours of pure pleasure. We found a scrumptious book store just this side of Ashokan and a farm in Jefferson that sells maple sugar candy. Truly, upstate New York is Paradise enow.


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