{"id":2770,"date":"2014-04-05T09:30:20","date_gmt":"2014-04-05T13:30:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/oook.info\/blog\/?p=2770"},"modified":"2014-04-05T09:30:20","modified_gmt":"2014-04-05T13:30:20","slug":"from-the-depths-of-memory","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/oook.info\/blog\/?p=2770","title":{"rendered":"from the depths of memory"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’ve been reading in Mavis Gallant’s Paris Stories<\/b>, most recently “The Moslem Wife”, and no doubt that brought this lyric to mind first thing this morning –a song I know from a 1952 Dunster Dunces record that I wish I could find again:<\/p>\n

\r\nWe never mention Aunt Clara\r\nHer picture is turned to the wall\r\nFor she lives on the French Riviera\r\nMother says she is dead to us all\r\n\r\nShe used to sing hymns in the old village choir\r\nShe used to teach Sunday School class\r\nAt playing the organ she never would tire\r\nBut those dear days are gone now and past\r\n\r\nWith presents he tempted and lured her to sin\r\nHer innocent virtue to smirch\r\nBut Aunt Clara was strong and she never gave in\r\n'Til he gave her the keys to the church\r\n\r\nThey said that Hell Fire would punish her sin\r\nShe'd burn for her carryings-on\r\nBut just at this moment she's toasting her skin\r\nIn a villa near Old Avignon\r\n\r\nWe never mention Aunt Clara\r\nBut I think that when I grow up tall\r\nI shall go to the French Riviera\r\nAnd let Mother turn me to the wall\r\n<\/pre>\n
A bit of Googly diligence turns up other versions<\/b>, which it’s probably just as well I didn’t encounter as a precocious 10-year old. One such<\/a>, well worth your time if you are so inclined, boasts this explanatory verse:<\/p>\n
\r\nSo then on the organ she'd practice and play;\r\nThe preacher would pump up and down.\r\nHis wife caught him pumping her organ one day\r\nAnd that's why Aunt Clara left town. \r\n<\/pre>\n
Honeymonstercxix, channeling Hamish Imlach, bless him, knows that one:<\/p>\n
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