The Bodhran Song (Brian O'Rourke - MÓC Music) Oh I am a year old kid I'm worth scarcely fifteen quid. I'm the kind of beast you might well look down on But my value will increase At the time of my decease For when I grow up I want to be a bodhrán. If you kill me for my meat You won't find me very sweet. Your palate I'm afraid I'll soon turn sour on. Ah but if you do me in For the sake of my thick skin You'll find I make a tasty little bodhrán. Now my parents Bill and Nan, They do not approve my plan To become a yoke for every yob to pound on Ah but I would sooner scamper With a bang than with a whimper And achieve reincarnation as a bodhrán. I look forward to the day When I leave off eating hay And become a drum to entertain a crowd on And I'll make my presence felt With each well-delivered belt As a fully qualified and licensed bodhrán. And 'tis when I'm killed and cured My career will be assured I'll be a skin you'll see no scum nor scour on But with studs around my rim I'll be sound in wind and limb And I'll make a dandy, handy little bodhrán. Oh my heart with joy expands When I dream of far-off lands And consider all the streets that I will sound on And I pity my poor ma Who has never seen a Fleadh Or indulged in foreign travel as a bodhrán. For a hornpipe or a reel A dead donkey has no feel Or a horse or cow or sheep that has its shroud on And you can't join in a jig If you're a former grade A pig But you can wallop out the lot if you're a bodhrán. So if e'er you're feeling low To a session you should go And bring me there to exercise an hour on. You can strike a mighty thump On my belly, back or rump But I thank you if you'd wait till I'm a bodhrán. When I dedicate my hide, I'll enhance the family pride And tradition is a thing I won't fall down on For I'll bear a few young bucks Who'll inherit my good looks And be proud to know their old one is a bodhrán. And I don't think I'll much mind When I've left himself behind For the critter can no longer turn the power on For with a celtic ink design Tattooed on my behind I can be a very sexy little bodhrán Now I think you've had enough Of this rubbishy old guff So I'll put a sudden end to my wee amhrán And quite soon my bloody bleat Will become a steady beat When I start my new existence as a bodhrán. Within the confines of traditional singing, song-writing has undergone something of a renaissance in recent years with the bard of old being replaced by a new b reed of versifier. Nothing escapes the poet's wrath and/or amusement. This littl e gem is from the pen of Brian O'Rourke who has consistently shown that he is a master of the humorous song. AW apr00
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!