Re: now tell your filthy mothers and kids
"dale" <dale.kelly@comcast . net > wrote in message
news:VJ-dnRn7m_u4BXranZ2dnUVZ_gadnZ2d@comcast . com ...
> me -> Dale Kelly, descendant of Scottish Royalty
> you -> non-descript petty bourgeois American
>
> O'KELLY is a genuine 'O' surname which belongs to the oldest class of
> native Irish surnames. It means 'Descendent of Ceallach' (war or
> contention), and is the name of several distinct and illustrious
> families in various parts of Ireland. O'KELLY was chief of the great U?
> Maine clan and ruled over an extensive territory in the counties of
> Galway and Roscommon.
(bog Irish stuff snipped)
OK, time for a repost - here's an answer I posted some years ago to an
'Irish Question'
[begin repost]
Manfred Hellrigl wrote in message
>Can anybody recommend an instrument that is suitable for an 8 year old
child
>and that fits into irish traditional music?
>Any hints are appreciated!
>Greetings
>Manfred
________________
OK, I've given the matter some thought - and have decided that your lad
would best help the music along if he adopts the guise of a traditional
Black & Tan trooper.
You don't have to go to much expense - any old black coat will do for a
start - you might even find an old helmet at a government surplus store to
add authenticity.
What is essential, however, is some form of bayonet - perhaps a suitably
sharpened wooden stick would suffice until he gets the hang of it.
Now, the lad has to wait outside the door - while you and your fellow
musicians start pelting out your repertoire of 'rebel' songs (don't forget
to have a few glasses of porter on the table).
At, say, the start of the second verse, the door flies open and the young
lad bursts into the room shouting:
"Up against the wall - you bog Irish bastards!"
You comply (although it would be best if one of you was rather tardy about
doing so - enabling the 'soldier' to give you a good kick in your backside,
yelling "You too!, Paddy, D'you think I've got all day?!"
Next, you and your friends must stand with your heads bowed (a cap to screw
nervously between your nicotine stained fingers, would be ideal, at this
point) while the young lad walks up and down, surveying you all with utter
contempt.
At length, the lad must say (sneeringly) "So, what've we got here then? -
more bloody drunken bog Irish rebel fiddle players?!"
At this point one of you must dare to look up furtively and say (in a
quavering voice):
"No Surr - honest Surr!"
The lad then takes the 'bayonet' and holds it under the chin of the group's
spokesperson, saying:
"Oh, is that right - so you're not bloody Rebels, then? - just a bunch of
thick Micks, eh?"
No response is made by the nervous group - and the lad continues:
So, then, tell me what you are, Paddy! (at this point, the bayonet is
jabbed against the spokesman's windpipe - who must mumble, quietly)
"Thick Micks, Surr"
The boy must then stop in feigned astonishment, shouting (at the top of his
voice)
"WHAAAT! - I can't hear you, Paddy! - am I going deaf through listening to
all your bloody bombs, eh, Paddy?!"
To which the spokesman replies "No, Surr", adding in a very loud voice
"We're all just Thick Micks, Surr!!"
Then, the lad must appear to be mollified, and takes a seat with his boots
on the table, examining his bayonet. as he continues:
"That's bloody better, Paddy, now let's hear you play God Save The King -
and mind you dance, you bloody Papist scum"
At which command, the members of the group hurriedly pick up their
instruments and commence a spirited rendition of the national anthem,
jigging from one foot to the other - while the young lad downs all the
glasses of porter, before farting appreciatively.
There - follow those simple guidelines and you'll be playing truly
'Traditional' Irish music!. (and the wee boy will have tremendous fun, into
the bargain)