The Irish Ballad
Tom Lehrer Lyrics


Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴  Line by Line Meaning ↴

Now I'd like to turn to the folk song, which has become in recent years the particularly fashionable form of idiocy among the self-styled intellectual. we find that people who deplore the level
Rrent popular songs -- although I admit they do seem to be recording almost anything these days. have you heard sesue hayakawa's record of remember pearl harbor? these same people who deplore th
El of current popular songs and yet will sit around enthralled singing jimmy crack corn and I don't care or green grow the rushes, oh! -- whatever that means. at any rate, for this elite I have
An ancient irish ballad, which was written a few years ago, and which is replete with all the accoutrements of this art form. in particular, it has a sort of idiotic refrain, in this case ricket
Kety-tin you'll notice cropping up from time to time, running through, I might add, interminable verses. the large number of verses being a feature expressly designed to please the true devotees
He folk song who seem to find
Singing fifty verses of on top of old smokey is twice as enjoyable as singing twenty-five.
This type of song also has what is known technically in music as a modal tune, which means -- for the benefit of any layman who may have wandered in this evening -- that I play a wrong note ever
And then.
[piano]
This song though does differ strikingly from the genuine folk ballad in that in this song the words which are supposed to rhyme - actually do.
[piano]
I, ah, I really should say that - I do not direct these remarks against the vast army of folk song lovers, but merely against that peculiar hard core who seem to equate authenticity with artisti
It and illiteracy with charm.
[piano]
Oh, one more thing. one of the more important aspects of public folk singing is audience participation, and this happens to be a good song for group singing. so if any of you feel like joining I
H me on this song, I'd appreciate it if you would leave -- right now.

About a maid I'll sing a song,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long.
Not only did she do them wrong,
She did ev'ryone of them in, them in,
She did ev'ryone of them in.

One morning in a fit of pique,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One morning in a fit of pique,
She drowned her father in the creek.
The water tasted bad for a week,
And we had to make do with gin, with gin,
We had to make do with gin.

Her mother she could never stand,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
Her mother she cold never stand,
And so a cyanide soup she planned.
The mother died with a spoon in her hand,
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,
Her face in a hideous grin.

She set her sister's hair on fire,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
She set her sister's hair on fire,
And as the smoke and flame rose high'are,
Danced around the funeral pyre,
Playin' a violin, -olin,
Playin' a violin.

She weighted her brother down with stones,
Rickety-tickety-tin,
She weighted her brother down with stones,
And sent him off to davy jones.
All they ever found were some bones,
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin,
Occasional pieces of skin.

One day when she had nothing to do,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One day when she had nothing to do,
She cut her baby brother in two,
And served him up as an irish stew,
And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,
Invited the neighbors in.

And when at last the police came by,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
And when at last the police came by,
Her little pranks she did not deny,
To do so she would have had to lie,
And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin,
Lying, she knew, was a sin.

My tragic tale, I won't prolong,
Rickety-tickety-tin,
My tragic tale I won't prolong,
And if you do not enjoy the song,
You've yourselves to blame if it's too long,




You should never have let me begin, begin,
You should never have let me begin.

Overall Meaning

In the introduction to the song “The Irish Ballad,” Tom Lehrer talks about the popularity of folk songs and how they seem to have grown in popularity, particularly among the intellectual elite. He pokes fun at the nature of folk songs with their idiotic refrains, “Green grow the rushes O,” which mean nothing, and long verses that seem to be interminable, especially for those who are not real devotees of the genre. In contrast, “The Irish Ballad” is a ballad that was written a few years ago but has all the features of traditional folk songs, like a long chain of repetitive choruses or a modal tune, where the singer's narrative is deliberately accompanied by a wrong note.


“The Irish Ballad” tells the tale of a wicked Irish maid who didn’t have her family long because she did everyone in. Lehrer’s narrative is gruesome and hilarious, with the maid drowning her father in the creek water and making her mother a cyanide soup, setting her sister’s hair on fire while she danced around the funeral pyre, killing her brother by weighing him down with stones in Davy Jones’ locker, cutting her baby brother into Irish stew and inviting neighbors over to try it out. The police finally come and she confesses that she carried out the murders. Although Lehrer’s humorous take on the ballad is farcical, it is a good example of the horrific nature of some of the old traditional ballads.


Line by Line Meaning

Now I'd like to turn to the folk song, which has become in recent years the particularly fashionable form of idiocy among the self-styled intellectual.
The singer wants to talk about folk songs, which have become popular among people who think they're smart.


We find that people who deplore the level of current popular songs -- although I admit they do seem to be recording almost anything these days.
People who dislike modern songs still listen to and enjoy silly old ones.


Have you heard sesue hayakawa's record of remember pearl harbor?
The singer asks if the listener has heard a specific record.


These same people who deplore the el of current popular songs and yet will sit around enthralled singing jimmy crack corn and I don't care or green grow the rushes, oh! -- whatever that means.
People who don't like modern songs will still happily and enthusiastically sing nonsense old ones.


At any rate, for this elite I have an ancient irish ballad, which was written a few years ago, and which is replete with all the accoutrements of this art form.
The artist has an old Irish song with all the traditional features that the elite audience may like.


In particular, it has a sort of idiotic refrain, in this case rickety-tin you'll notice cropping up from time to time, running through, I might add, interminable verses.
The song has a ridiculous repeating line and very long verses.


The large number of verses being a feature expressly designed to please the true devotees of the folk song who seem to find singing fifty verses of on top of old smokey is twice as enjoyable as singing twenty-five.
The numerous verses are for the devoted folk song fans who enjoy singing a lot of words.


This type of song also has what is known technically in music as a modal tune, which means -- for the benefit of any layman who may have wandered in this evening -- that I play a wrong note ever and then.
The song has a technical music feature that the artist explains to the non-musical audience member.


This song though does differ strikingly from the genuine folk ballad in that in this song the words which are supposed to rhyme - actually do.
This song is different from traditional folk ballads because it actually rhymes the words that are supposed to.


I, ah, I really should say that - I do not direct these remarks against the vast army of folk song lovers, but merely against that peculiar hard core who seem to equate authenticity with artistic merit and illiteracy with charm.
The artist does not intend to offend the whole folk song-loving community but only a small group that confuses authenticity with being good and being uneducated with being charming.


Oh, one more thing. one of the more important aspects of public folk singing is audience participation, and this happens to be a good song for group singing. so if any of you feel like joining I with me on this song, I'd appreciate it if you would leave right now.
The singer invites the audience to join in singing the song but politely asks those who don't want to participate to leave.


About a maid I'll sing a song,
The song is about a girl.


Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
The repeating chorus of the song.


About a maid I'll sing a song who didn't have her family long.
The girl's family died soon after the song starts.


Not only did she do them wrong, she did ev'ryone of them in, them in, she did ev'ryone of them in.
The girl killed her whole family.


One morning in a fit of pique, she drowned her father in the creek.
The girl killed her father.


The water tasted bad for a week, and we had to make do with gin, with gin, we had to make do with gin.
The creek water tasted bad after the girl killed her father, so they drank gin.


Her mother she could never stand, And so a cyanide soup she planned.
The girl didn't like her mother and planned to kill her with poison.


The mother died with a spoon in her hand, And her face in a hideous grin, a grin, her face in a hideous grin.
The mother died with a weird expression on her face.


She set her sister's hair on fire, She set her sister's hair on fire,
The girl set her sister's hair on fire.


And as the smoke and flame rose high'are, danced around the funeral pyre, playin' a violin, -olin, playin' a violin.
The girl danced around her burning sister and played the violin.


She weighted her brother down with stones, she weighted her brother down with stones,
The girl drowned her brother by sinking him with stones.


And sent him off to davy jones. All they ever found were some bones, And occasional pieces of skin, of skin, Occasional pieces of skin.
She threw her brother's body in the ocean, and only some body parts were found.


One day when she had nothing to do, she cut her baby brother in two,
The girl cut her baby brother in half out of boredom.


And served him up as an irish stew, and invited the neighbors in, -bors in, invited the neighbors in.
The girl made her baby brother into stew and invited people over to eat.


And when at last the police came by, her little pranks she did not deny,
When the police came, the girl didn't deny her crimes.


To do so she would have had to lie, And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin, Lying, she knew, was a sin.
The girl didn't confess to her crimes because lying is wrong.


My tragic tale, I won't prolong,
The song is ending.


And if you do not enjoy the song, you've yourselves to blame if it's too long, you should never have let me begin, begin, you should never have let me begin.
If the listener doesn't like the song or thinks it's too long, they only have themselves to blame for letting the artist start singing.




Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS

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Comments from YouTube:

Russell S

I went to summer camp in Androscoggin, Maine in the 1950s. Every year, a young Tom Lehrer would come up from Boston to help put on the annual play. A treat for all the kids and counselors involved. Happy 91st, Tom !

Gaming Funds

@J.W. S.D yeah

Synthia Zeng

@Russell S Almost 93

J.W. S.D

@Russell S Oh cool!

Russell S

@J.W. S.D Yup. He's still alive. 92. Go, Tom !

J.W. S.D

Whoa, I’m going to summer camp in Muskoka, Ontario and this would be cool. If of course he was still alive.
Edit: Wait is he still alive?

1 More Replies...

manfredatee

Got to love that 88-string guitar!

Brewnoe

still waiting for the next 70 verses

Yaume Lepire

manfredatee Same profile pick! Also I agree.

Jamie Barrett

I have fond memories of gathering around the piano to hear my mom play and sing Tom Lehrer songs from the Tom Lehrer songbook. We’d sometimes join in on singing but she led us all. This was one of my favorites for her to play and sing! Loved the ‘rikity tikity tin’ part! So fun! Thanks, mom!

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