John Haralson! John Haralson!
You are a funny creature;
You've given to this cruel war
A new and useful feature.
You've let us know, while every man
Is bound to be a fighter,
The women, bless them, can be put
To making lots of nitre.
John Haralson! John Haralson!
Where did you get the notion
Of sending barrels around our street
To fill them with that lotion?
We thought the women did enough
At sewing shirts and kissing;
But you have put the lovely dears
To patriotic pissing.
John Haralson! John Haralson!
Can't you suggest a neater
And faster method for our folks
To make up our saltpetre?
Indeed, the thing is so very odd,
Gunpowder like and cranky,
That when a lady lifts her skirt
She shoots a horrid Yankee!
You are a funny creature;
You've given to this cruel war
A new and useful feature.
You've let us know, while every man
Is bound to be a fighter,
The women, bless them, can be put
To making lots of nitre.
John Haralson! John Haralson!
Where did you get the notion
Of sending barrels around our street
To fill them with that lotion?
We thought the women did enough
At sewing shirts and kissing;
But you have put the lovely dears
To patriotic pissing.
John Haralson! John Haralson!
Can't you suggest a neater
And faster method for our folks
To make up our saltpetre?
Indeed, the thing is so very odd,
Gunpowder like and cranky,
That when a lady lifts her skirt
She shoots a horrid Yankee!
envoyé par Bernart - 18/7/2013 - 10:52
Langue: anglais
Le strofe con cui lo stesso John Haralson rispose alla burla tentando di difendere la sua buffa iniziativa.
WET MORE!
The women, bless their dear souls,
And everyone for war
To 'soldier boys' they'll give them shoes,
Their stockings by the score
They'll give their jewels all away,
Their petticoats to boot
They'll have saltpetre, or they'll shout,
In earnest phrase--'Wet more'!
The women, were it not for them
Our country would be lost;
They charm the world, they nerve our hearts
To fight at every cost.
What care they how our powder's made?
They'll have it, or they'll bore
Through mines or beds in stables laid,
And, straining, cry 'Wet more'!
Women, yes they stoop to conquer
And keep their virtue pure;
It is no harm to kill a beast
With chamber lye I'm sure.
But powder we are bound to have,
And this they've sworn before;
And if the needful thing is scarce,
They'll 'press' it and 'Wet more'!
The women, bless their dear souls,
And everyone for war
To 'soldier boys' they'll give them shoes,
Their stockings by the score
They'll give their jewels all away,
Their petticoats to boot
They'll have saltpetre, or they'll shout,
In earnest phrase--'Wet more'!
The women, were it not for them
Our country would be lost;
They charm the world, they nerve our hearts
To fight at every cost.
What care they how our powder's made?
They'll have it, or they'll bore
Through mines or beds in stables laid,
And, straining, cry 'Wet more'!
Women, yes they stoop to conquer
And keep their virtue pure;
It is no harm to kill a beast
With chamber lye I'm sure.
But powder we are bound to have,
And this they've sworn before;
And if the needful thing is scarce,
They'll 'press' it and 'Wet more'!
envoyé par Bernart - 18/7/2013 - 10:56
Langue: anglais
Qualche buontempone nordista, conosciuta la canzoncina, prese la palla al balzo e ne fece una versione antisudista piena di espliciti riferimenti sessuali: i soldati “yankee” presi a fucilate dai confederati, inebriati dal profumo della polvere da sparo fatta con il “sweetheart's nitre”, finiscono con l’avere poderose erezioni…
JNO HARALSON
Jno Haralson! Jno Haralson!
We read in song and story
That women's in all these years,
Have sprinkled fields of glory;
But never was it told before
That how, midst scenes of slaughter
Your Southern beauties dried their tears
And went to making water.
No wonder, Jno., your boys were brave
Who would not be a fighter
If every time he shot his gun
He used his sweetheart's nitre?
And, vice verse what could make
A Yankee soldier sadder
Than dodging bullets fired from
A pretty woman's bladder.
They say there was a subtle smell
That lingered in the powder;
And as the smoke grew thicker,
And the din of battle grew louder
That there was found in this compound
This serious objection;
The soldiers could not sniff it in
Without a stiff erection.
Jno Haralson! Jno Haralson!
We read in song and story
That women's in all these years,
Have sprinkled fields of glory;
But never was it told before
That how, midst scenes of slaughter
Your Southern beauties dried their tears
And went to making water.
No wonder, Jno., your boys were brave
Who would not be a fighter
If every time he shot his gun
He used his sweetheart's nitre?
And, vice verse what could make
A Yankee soldier sadder
Than dodging bullets fired from
A pretty woman's bladder.
They say there was a subtle smell
That lingered in the powder;
And as the smoke grew thicker,
And the din of battle grew louder
That there was found in this compound
This serious objection;
The soldiers could not sniff it in
Without a stiff erection.
envoyé par Bernart - 18/7/2013 - 11:06
Trovata foto del Jonathan Haralson (1830-1912) protagonista della "succosa" vicenda raccontata in questa canzone...
Bernart - 18/7/2013 - 12:06
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Non proprio una CCG, ma il racconto di come anche una “cruel war” (e quella fratricida fra americani lo fu in modo particolare) possa avere dei risvolti davvero assurdi e ridicoli.
Storia e testo trovati qui.
John Haralson, distinto avvocato dell’Alabama, quando scoppiò la guerra civile fu posto a capo dell’agenzia della Confederazione che si occupava dei rifornimenti di polvere da sparo. Il problema era che negli Stati del sud scarseggiava il nitrato di potassio, allora fondamentale per confezionare pallottole ed esplosivi. Così l’ottimo Haralson ebbe un’idea geniale, quella di coinvolgere le signore nella produzione del prezioso minerale, e così scrisse per un anuncio poi pubblicato sul “The Selma Sentinel”:
“The ladies of Selma are respectfully requested to preserve all their chamber lye collected about their premises for the purpose of making Nitre. Wagons with barrels will be sent around for it by the subscriber.”
John Haralson, Agent Nitre and Mining Bureau
“Le signore di Selma sono cortesemente invitate a conservare la loro pipì che servirà per produrre nitrato. Vagoni ferroviari con appositi contenitori saranno resi disponibili allo scopo dall’Ufficio Nitrato e Miniere.” (firmato) John Haralson.
Quando il suo amico Thomas B. Wetmore lesse l’annuncio non potè tenersi dal comporre questa allegra canzoncina, che poi ebbe anche un paio di seguiti, ossia una prima replica direttamente dal suo protagonista e quindi un’inevitabile aggiunta da parte “nordista”.