Tuesday, 28 February 2023
A mixed bag from the Old Bag
Thursday, 23 February 2023
Car Phones
Friday, 3 February 2023
Anyone for a Mackinaw?
A loading of icy rain. |
It is cold out there. When I was out on our porch for my
post-prandial cigarette (Yeah, I know) it was -26°C, translating to -11°F and it is
supposed to get even colder later on. I zipped up the coat I wear out there and
covered my head. I was, however, still in my Birkenstock sandals and I may have
to change them for fuzzy slippers at bedtime, the next scheduled trip into the
Vortex. (Or whatever) I was, as I zipped, reminded of a silly song I learned around a
campfire in my misspent youth, about a logger. One verse goes, as I recall, ‘At
forty degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest.’ It does not say which zero
in the song, but when I was that young it was Fahrenheit. Okay, can’t spell
that. And since I have to go and find the spelling, (I forgot the first ‘h’) I
will find a link to the logger song, just for your enjoyment.
Here is the reference for the Frozen
Logger. I had no idea so many
people have ‘covered’ it. Here below are the frankly idiotic but fun lyrics in
entirety and, of course, I did not remember the line I wanted correctly. Only
the AC can do that, with hymns anyway, eh? And why, just in passing, can I not reduce the line values here to save space? Argh. I have edited punctuation and changed a few words for rhythm in this version. There are many.
As I stepped out one morning into a small cafe
A 40 year old waitress to me these words did say...
"I see, sir, you’re a logger, and not just a common bum
'Cause nobody but a logger stirs his coffee with his thumb.
My lover was a logger, there's none like him today.
If you'd pour whiskey on it, he'd eat a bale of hay.
My lover came to see me, ’twas on one freezing day.
He threw his arms around me and broke three vertebrae.
I saw my lover leaving, trudging through the snow
Up going gaily homeward at 48 below.
I learned this one differently, as:
'My lover he did kiss me, so hard he broke my jaw.
I could not speak to tell him he forgot his Mackinaw. '
The weather tried to freeze him, it tried its level best;
At a thousand degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest’
It froze clear through to China, it froze to the stars above
At a million degrees below zero, it froze my logger love.
And so I lost my lover, and to this cafe I come
And here I wait 'til someone stirs his coffee with his thumb."
There were lots of photos, but I can’t resist adding at least one of my own, heading off this less than coherent offering of a post. I will not add a shot of the thermometer. Lots of us are doing that.
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