In the tavern one night we were sitting
I'm sure 'twas the last week in March;
From our drinks we were cautiously sipping
To ensure that our throats didn't parch.
We played music both lively and dacent
To bolster our spirits and hopes,
And we gazed at the females adjacent
And remarked on their curves and their slopes.
Til a gent wandered into the session
And decided to join in the tunes:
Without waiting to ask our permission
He took out a large pair of soup-spoons.
Our teeth in short time we were gritting
As he shook and he rattled his toys,
And the company's eardrums were splitting
With his ugly mechanical noise.
Hopping spoons off our heads to provoke us
He continued the music to kill;
Whether hornpipes, slow airs or Polkas
They all sounded like pneumatic drills.
Then he asked if we'd play any faster
As his talent he wished to display
With a grin on the face of the bastard
Like the cat as she teases her prey.
Our feelings by now were quite bloody
And politely we asked him to quit
We suggested a part of his body
Where those spoons might conveniently fit.
This monster we pestered and hounded
We implored him with curses and tears,
But in vain our appeals they resounded
In the desert between his two ears.
When I went out the back on a mission
He arrived as I finished my leak
He says "this is a mighty fine session
I think I'll come here every week".
When I heard this, with rage I was leppin'
No more of this torture I'd take
I looked 'round for a suitable weapon
To silence this damn rattlesnake.
Outside towards the yard I did sally
To find something to vanquish my foe.
I grabbed hold of a gentleman's Raleigh
With 15 speed gear and dynamo.
Then I battered this musical vandal
As I shouted with furious cries
"My dear man your last spoon you have handled
Say your prayers and await your demise."
With the bike I assailed my tormentor
As I swung in a frenzy of hate
Til his bones and his skull were in splinters
And his health in a very poor state.
And when I was no longer able
I forestalled any last minute hitch
By removing the gear-changing cable
And strangling the sonofabitch.
At the end of my onslaught ferocious
I stood back and surveyed the scene.
The state of the place was atrocious
Full of fragments of man and machine.
At the spoon's players remains I was staring
His condition was surely no joke
For his nose was clogged with ball-bearings
And his left eye was pierced by a spoke.
At the sight I was feeling quite squeamish
So I washed up and went back inside
Then I drank a half gallon of Beamish
For my throat in the struggle had dried.
Unpolluted by cutleries clattered
The music was pleasant and sweet
For the rest of the night nothing mattered
But the tunes and the tapping of feet
At the inquest the following September
The coroner said "I conclude
The deceased by himself was dismembered
As no sign could be found of a feud.
And the evidence shows that the fact is,
As reported to me by the Guards
He indulged in the foolhardy practice
Of trick-cycling in public house yards.
So if you're desperately keen on percussion
And to join in the tunes you can't wait
Be you Irishman, German, or Russian
Take a lesson from his awful fate.
If your spoons are the best silver-plated
Or the humblest of cheap stainless steel
If you play them abroad, you'll be hated
So just use them for eating your meals
At our session there is a very loud character who comes in regularly & for a while, would play spoons - very loudly.
But he was not trying to make music with them, he was just being a bloody nuisance, tapping folk on the shoulder with them as he played & just getting on folks nerves.
We were getting really fed up with this & tried hiding his spoons on him a couple of times, which did upset him, but he brought in new ones.
However, I came across this song on 'It's No Secret' - Hammy Hamilton, Seamus Creagh & Con O'Drisceoll.
So I had it printed out & changed a couple of words to make it fit our bar & left a copy with the owner to casually show our pesky spoons destroyer.
Guess what?
His face was a picture the day he was shown the words of the song & he has never ever played spoons in our session pub since!!
There´s the story about Joe Cooley, famous accordian player, who was at a session where there was a spoons player, oblivious to everyone else and without the slightest sense of rhythm.
After enduring the maddening clackety-clicking for as long as he could, Joe finally called out to the bar staff:
"Will somebody give this f.......er a bowl of soup !! "
Maybe I'll design a poster to sell to session leaders to display at their sessions: Limit One Spoon Per Person Please. Maybe I can retire off the proceeds.
The words and the recording may have copyright issues attached but the tune, I think, is trad and is in the archive already. We have discussed this before. Yet a search of the whole site came up with nothing - maybe Jeremy had to remove it. If someone wants to do an abc search they might come up with the name of the actual tune that he put the words with.
Nice one Murfbox. bUT have you heard the one about the old boy, who, on his 90'th birthday received a rather tasty looking young strip-o-gram from his friends.
Now she was a long legged, tasty bit of stuff, & as she proceeded to remove all her bits & bobs, piece by piece, she declared, in a seductive tone, that she had been paid to give him super sex, to which he replied, "I'll hae the Soup"!
bOOM bOOM
Spoons
Spoons
The Spoons Murder
by Con O'Drisceoil
In the tavern one night we were sitting
I'm sure 'twas the last week in March;
From our drinks we were cautiously sipping
To ensure that our throats didn't parch.
We played music both lively and dacent
To bolster our spirits and hopes,
And we gazed at the females adjacent
And remarked on their curves and their slopes.
Til a gent wandered into the session
And decided to join in the tunes:
Without waiting to ask our permission
He took out a large pair of soup-spoons.
Our teeth in short time we were gritting
As he shook and he rattled his toys,
And the company's eardrums were splitting
With his ugly mechanical noise.
Hopping spoons off our heads to provoke us
He continued the music to kill;
Whether hornpipes, slow airs or Polkas
They all sounded like pneumatic drills.
Then he asked if we'd play any faster
As his talent he wished to display
With a grin on the face of the bastard
Like the cat as she teases her prey.
Our feelings by now were quite bloody
And politely we asked him to quit
We suggested a part of his body
Where those spoons might conveniently fit.
This monster we pestered and hounded
We implored him with curses and tears,
But in vain our appeals they resounded
In the desert between his two ears.
When I went out the back on a mission
He arrived as I finished my leak
He says "this is a mighty fine session
I think I'll come here every week".
When I heard this, with rage I was leppin'
No more of this torture I'd take
I looked 'round for a suitable weapon
To silence this damn rattlesnake.
Outside towards the yard I did sally
To find something to vanquish my foe.
I grabbed hold of a gentleman's Raleigh
With 15 speed gear and dynamo.
Then I battered this musical vandal
As I shouted with furious cries
"My dear man your last spoon you have handled
Say your prayers and await your demise."
With the bike I assailed my tormentor
As I swung in a frenzy of hate
Til his bones and his skull were in splinters
And his health in a very poor state.
And when I was no longer able
I forestalled any last minute hitch
By removing the gear-changing cable
And strangling the sonofabitch.
At the end of my onslaught ferocious
I stood back and surveyed the scene.
The state of the place was atrocious
Full of fragments of man and machine.
At the spoon's players remains I was staring
His condition was surely no joke
For his nose was clogged with ball-bearings
And his left eye was pierced by a spoke.
At the sight I was feeling quite squeamish
So I washed up and went back inside
Then I drank a half gallon of Beamish
For my throat in the struggle had dried.
Unpolluted by cutleries clattered
The music was pleasant and sweet
For the rest of the night nothing mattered
But the tunes and the tapping of feet
At the inquest the following September
The coroner said "I conclude
The deceased by himself was dismembered
As no sign could be found of a feud.
And the evidence shows that the fact is,
As reported to me by the Guards
He indulged in the foolhardy practice
Of trick-cycling in public house yards.
So if you're desperately keen on percussion
And to join in the tunes you can't wait
Be you Irishman, German, or Russian
Take a lesson from his awful fate.
If your spoons are the best silver-plated
Or the humblest of cheap stainless steel
If you play them abroad, you'll be hated
So just use them for eating your meals
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by John McCartin
Re: Spoons
Touch of class.
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by BegF
Re: Spoons
John, that's beautiful!
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by ecidralla
Re: Spoons
That's great.
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by Toresica
Re: Spoons
Thank you John.
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by showaddydadito
Re: Spoons
This should be posted in plain sight in every public house where a session might occur as a public service.
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by kris
Re: Spoons
Hmm, it is great, but it's Con's copyright and should not have been copied to this site. Time for removal methinks.
# Posted on August 26th 2005 by MacCruiskeen
Re: Spoons
Fantastic!
# Posted on August 27th 2005 by keyedup
Re: Spoons
Hey John, you might enjoy this story.
At our session there is a very loud character who comes in regularly & for a while, would play spoons - very loudly.
But he was not trying to make music with them, he was just being a bloody nuisance, tapping folk on the shoulder with them as he played & just getting on folks nerves.
We were getting really fed up with this & tried hiding his spoons on him a couple of times, which did upset him, but he brought in new ones.
However, I came across this song on 'It's No Secret' - Hammy Hamilton, Seamus Creagh & Con O'Drisceoll.
So I had it printed out & changed a couple of words to make it fit our bar & left a copy with the owner to casually show our pesky spoons destroyer.
Guess what?
His face was a picture the day he was shown the words of the song & he has never ever played spoons in our session pub since!!
So, three cheers for Con & his great song.
# Posted on August 27th 2005 by Ptarmigan
Re: Spoons
Here's the mp3 for The Spoons Murder: http://www.TipsyHouse.com/spoonsmurder.mp3
(Con O Drisceoil)
It's from a great recording called "It's No Secret" by Hammy Hamilton, Seamus Creagh, Con O Drisceoil
http://www.thesession.org/recordings/display.php/515
# Posted on August 27th 2005 by Phantom Button
Re: Spoons
There´s the story about Joe Cooley, famous accordian player, who was at a session where there was a spoons player, oblivious to everyone else and without the slightest sense of rhythm.
After enduring the maddening clackety-clicking for as long as he could, Joe finally called out to the bar staff:
"Will somebody give this f.......er a bowl of soup !! "
# Posted on August 27th 2005 by murfbox
Re: Spoons
Maybe I'll design a poster to sell to session leaders to display at their sessions: Limit One Spoon Per Person Please. Maybe I can retire off the proceeds.
# Posted on August 27th 2005 by GaryAMartin
Re: Spoons
The words and the recording may have copyright issues attached but the tune, I think, is trad and is in the archive already. We have discussed this before. Yet a search of the whole site came up with nothing - maybe Jeremy had to remove it. If someone wants to do an abc search they might come up with the name of the actual tune that he put the words with.
# Posted on August 28th 2005 by Donough
Re: Spoons
Nice one Murfbox. bUT have you heard the one about the old boy, who, on his 90'th birthday received a rather tasty looking young strip-o-gram from his friends.
Now she was a long legged, tasty bit of stuff, & as she proceeded to remove all her bits & bobs, piece by piece, she declared, in a seductive tone, that she had been paid to give him super sex, to which he replied, "I'll hae the Soup"!
bOOM bOOM
# Posted on August 28th 2005 by Ptarmigan
Re: Spoons
Sorry 'bout that Froidian (sp) slip over the word But!!
# Posted on August 28th 2005 by Ptarmigan
Re: Spoons
Here's the previous discussion, Donough:
http://www.thesession.org/discussions/display.php/3056/comments#comment61377
The air is The Maid With The Bonnie Brown Hair.
# Posted on August 28th 2005 by GaryAMartin
Re: Spoons
The 'Art' of playing SPOONS!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3TFkvEmBYM
# Posted on April 22nd 2007 by Ptarmigan
Re: Spoons
We're having an issue with spoons at our session so I went in search of these fine verses to share with the offender in the hopes of enlightenment.
Up the .org! It was the first hit on Google for "The Spoons Murder'.
# Posted on October 22nd 2009 by SWFL Fiddler