It being the season that’s in it, I thought it might be a good idea to exchange virtual gifts of miscellaneous humorous items – preferably music related – be they yarns, anecdotes, jokes, confabulations, stretchers, witticisms, wind-ups or anything else that comes to mind. There are a few good ones in Ciaran Carson’s book on Irish traditional music, Last Night’s Fun (feck you anyway, Rab C, I’ve an aversion to the “ITM” abbreviation after that thread you initiated on the subject recently). Here are two for starters, though they may not work as it’s the way you type them. The first one (factual, I’m told) relates to the era when Ciaran McMathuna, Seamus Ennis and their Radio Eireann colleagues were travelling the country recording traditional music and when people had pos in their bedrooms (a significant detail). On one occasion one of them was recording at a house session and somebody was singing a song. In the middle of the song a hissing noise was heard from upstairs and the recording had to be interrupted. The Bean a Ti promptly dealt with the problem, however, by looking up towards the ceiling and calling out, “Shlant it, Mary”.
The second one is a little anecdote – not even an anecdote, a vignette – told by my late uncle and this is also factual. My uncle who was from Tipperary was a very witty, funny man. He told this on his death bed and maybe some of the gallows humour he was able to distil from those circumstances will be lost here. He told about a visit he had once paid to an old acquaintance of his in Tipperary who played the accordion and was mad for the music. The accordion player was either very sick, very cold for the want of central heating or just very laid back (I can’t remember) but when my uncle visited him he was sitting up in the bed happily playing the accordion with two holes cut in the blankets to accommodate his arms.
Der next night vas Christmas
Der night it vas shtill
Der stocking vas hung
By der schimney to fill.
Nodding vas shtirring
Not at all in der house
For fear dot St Nicholas
Vold nix kom haraus
Der kiddies vas all tired
Und gone to der beds
Und Mudder in night gown
Und I chust ahead
Vas searching around
In closets fer toys
Ve krrept around quiet
Not to make any noise
Now Mudder vas carring
All der toys in her gown,
Showing her person
From up her vaist down
Den as ve cum near
The crib of our boys,
Our youngest und sveetest
Our pride and our choy
His eyes vas wide open
As he peeked from his cot
Und he sees everything
Vot his mudder has got
But he didn't even notice
Der toys in her lap
He chust asked ... for who
iss dat liddle fur cap
Und mudder said hush
Und she smiled mit delight
. . . I tink I gif dot
To your Fodder tonight.
Credit: My Uncle was doing Christmas Eve duty at the Morgantown WV airport in the late 50's. This poem came over the wire that night and has been handed down in our family ever since..
Bob Tedrow
I say, old chap, Phonsie, that's a rather harsh way of putting it! I'm sure Carson also uses the term "the music" as we all know what music we're on about. That saves you having to write out I-r-i-s-h t-r-a-d-i-t-i-o-n-a-l m-u-s-i-c every time.
On further reflection, Rab C, I think it behoves me to offer further clarification of the misunderstanding that arose over my use of the work “feck” in relation to you. It has mainly to do, I think, with the ironic nuances of the word in Hiberno-English usage (as far as I know the word is peculiar to Ireland) that are virtually impossible to explicate to one unfamiliar with them. Moreover, there is a general problem with the use of irony in cyberspace communications, and this has been noted on another thread recently in which we participated. However, to proceed with any further exegesis of the issue here (PhD’s are awarded these days on topics of far less magnitude and importance than this, it would seem) would be to deviate too much from the purpose of this thread. Anyway, sorry about the feckin’ misunderstanding agus slan go foill.
Actually Rab C, I’ve since become aware of the fact that the word “feck” isn’t a standard English word at all, insofar as it’s neither in my Concise Oxford nor Chambers Dictionary. “Feck you” is therefore a meaningless expression. Accordingly, insofar as you my have misconstrued any kind of an apology from any comment I have made heretofore on this issue, I hereby unequivocally state that any apology so misconstrued is neither warranted nor intended. But that’s enough of the feck-arsing. Have any of you feckers any funny stories etc to relate?
Well, you've got me completely baffled now, The Phonse. Let me get this straight - you're not apologising to me for not swearing? And it's taken this many words to not apologise? (deliberate split infinitive, there)
I think that in itself demands an apology.
No worries pal. All highly amusing stuff.
Tell us the one about Mister Fogg, Zina!
As soon as I remember one I'll relate it. Has anyone ever been to Glasgow, and during a conversation with a stranger they ask you "Haw, Jim, Whut's yer name?"
(Jim or Jimmy - and sometimes John, being the colloquial for sir or mister)
So, in the Baked Bean's English, that might translate as:
"I say, kind sir, please tell me, what is your appellation?"
(and we're not talking Bluegrass, here.)
Two nuns, Sister Marilyn and Sister Helen, are traveling through Europe in their car. They get to Transylvania and are stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny little Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses through the windshield.
"Quick, quick!" shouts Sister Marilyn. "What shall we do?"
"Turn the windshield wipers on. That will get rid of the abomination," says Sister Helen.
Sister Marilyn switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns.
"What shall I do now?" she shouts. "Switch on the windshield washer.
I filled it up with Holy Water at the Vatican," says Sister Helen.
Sister Marilyn turns on the windshield washer. Dracula screams as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns.
"Now what?" shouts Sister Marilyn?
"Show him your cross," says Sister Helen.
"Now you're talking," says Sister Marilyn. She opens the window and shouts, "GET THE FECK OFF OUR CAR!"
hehehe. I love that story, but it's really Cara's, and surely everyone's read it by now. Although our friend Tom, who is the Sgt of Patrol for our local police dept., has some hilarious stories about arrests and roadside pullovers that he told at one of our parties last week. I'll see if I can't remember any of those, but without Tom's inimitable delivery, surely they won't be so funny...(The one about the guy who was so drunk that, while waiting for the breathalyzer test, he thought it would be a good idea to spray Windex in his mouth comes to mind.)
Many happy returns, Zina, Jack and Rab. I'll drink a smathan of Jameson 12 Years Old to youse all. Rab, the verbosity of that post was really due to the fact that I've decided to go for the PhD after all, and that was my abstract. The title I've decide upon is "The arbitrariness and plurisignative properties of the linguistic sign in the context of non-conguent semantic fields generated by cyperspace interaction"
Youse have me all confused now. First Rab gives out about abbreviated utterances, then about verbose ones. And now you're at it, Zina. BTW, BT, I should have acknowledged your earlier contribution in the above libation. Anyway, as I'm feeling generous, here's two more music related anecdotes that somebody somewhere might find amusing:
The first one concerns a fiddle player friend of mine (though I have not seen him for a good while) and a very funny, fun-loving roguish character with no shortage of neck – one of those characters about whom everybody who knows him has at least one or two funny stories to tell. This is a story he told against himself. Years ago he worked in a factory in Limerick and he was made redundant. He also happened to have just taken up the fiddle, having previously played the mandolin. Through contacts he managed to inveigle his way into a summer job with the local tourism board, which involved playing the fiddle to “entertain” “Yanks” as they descended to the runway in Shannon Airport. One day who should descend from a plane but Kris Kristoffersen. Kris was so impressed by the music that he said to my friend as he passed by, “Hey, man, that’s lovely bluegrass music you’re playin’ there”.
This one, again factual, concerns the eminent musicians Joe Burke and Seamus Tansey (and I don’t want to start another Tansey-bashing queue here – I’m told by a musician who knows him well that Tansey has his good points, like most of the rest of us, notwithstanding his curmudgeonly tendencies). There was a session or gig not too long ago somewhere in the Sligo-Leitrim region that featured the two aforementioned musicians and others. The musician from whom I heard this was also present. Anyway, Seamus Tansey responded to something somebody said (presumably a wind-up) and launched into an anti-British royal family tirade, as some of us unreconstructed Paddies are wont to do on the slightest provocation. Joe Burke responded by telling Tansey that he would be surprised to learn that in fact the Queen was a devoted fan of Irish traditional music and had a fabulous collection of recordings, including a comprehensive collection of old 78’s of Sligo fiddle music and that she preferred Killoran to Coleman. Seamus Tansey was completely taken aback and said no more, apparently gobsmacked and completely bowled over with a new-found respect for British royalty. I’m told that Joe Burke, as well as his musical proficiency, is endowed with a wicked talent for fun and irony. The beard, of course, is a considerable asset in the execution of such deadpan sallies.
Kris Kristoffersen graduated from my high school. It's the only contact with him I've ever had. ;) Love the Tansey story!
I don't think I could get away with slagging someone for verbosity, phonsie, I'd get jumped immediately! Heh. (I was teasing Danny with the hyphen thing, as that whole "too long to type out" thing has been a bit of a running joke since we first started using it way back when. God, what was that now, four years ago? Three?)
Another Tansey story, not quite as good as the above, but an antidote to the recent scandal involving the young Kerry lass:
A friend of mine (and many people's around the Irish music world) turned up at a session with Seamus Tansey and another respected musician (I forget who), whilst Tansey was in London last year. Some of you will know that Seamus Tansey, in addition to his skills as a flute player, is handy on the bodhran. On this particular occasion, he had not brought his flute out and, on the spur of the moment, borrowed a bodhran from the aforementioned friend.
The three of them got stuck into the session. At the end of the night, the governor gave his thanks to each of the musicians by name, and ... "the fellow there on the bodhran." Seamus Tansey remained tacit.
...Jim or Jimmy - and sometimes John, being the colloquial for sir or mister...
Rab - or can I call you Danny? - I came across a guitarist in Dingle this summer, who insisted on calling me 'George'. One might reasonably assume that he had forgotten my name, or thought I was someone else. But another fellow at the session, whom I had first met a few days earlier, was subjected to the same treatment. We were both English (myself from London, and him from Yorkshire), so presumably it was his default form of address for Englishmen - rather like 'Paddy' for an Irishman. The funny thing is, the guitarist himself hailed fom Liverpool, born under the flag of St. George.
Ha! Ha! great stuff lads. Seriously big LOL's at The Phonse's stories, particularly the Kristoferson one. And the Baked Bean one. Thanks Phonsie. A great christmas present.
Hey Dave (MG) - can I call you David? I've heard that "George" appellation among Cockneys.."Allwight Geowge, 'Awa ya doin' mate?".... I tell ye, you really meet them on the building sites. Not that I'd ever want to go near one again in me natural, know waht ah mean, Geowge?"
Just caught up to the fecking discussion here. A real language lesson! "Awa" is used as a contraction for "how are you." "Fodder" is used for "father" instead of refering to horse food. "Youse" is also used, and Irish would pronounce "youth" as "yout," as differentiated from "Ute," a Native American tribe. Similarly "me turd brudder" with subtitles would be "my third brother," which has no reference to certain bodily..... I won't go there. This is getting chust a liddle mudderfecking confusing. Tanks for the Appellations ( my Bluegrass Uncle lives in the Appellation Mountains).
whimsy and humour
whimsy and humour
It being the season that’s in it, I thought it might be a good idea to exchange virtual gifts of miscellaneous humorous items – preferably music related – be they yarns, anecdotes, jokes, confabulations, stretchers, witticisms, wind-ups or anything else that comes to mind. There are a few good ones in Ciaran Carson’s book on Irish traditional music, Last Night’s Fun (feck you anyway, Rab C, I’ve an aversion to the “ITM” abbreviation after that thread you initiated on the subject recently). Here are two for starters, though they may not work as it’s the way you type them. The first one (factual, I’m told) relates to the era when Ciaran McMathuna, Seamus Ennis and their Radio Eireann colleagues were travelling the country recording traditional music and when people had pos in their bedrooms (a significant detail). On one occasion one of them was recording at a house session and somebody was singing a song. In the middle of the song a hissing noise was heard from upstairs and the recording had to be interrupted. The Bean a Ti promptly dealt with the problem, however, by looking up towards the ceiling and calling out, “Shlant it, Mary”.
The second one is a little anecdote – not even an anecdote, a vignette – told by my late uncle and this is also factual. My uncle who was from Tipperary was a very witty, funny man. He told this on his death bed and maybe some of the gallows humour he was able to distil from those circumstances will be lost here. He told about a visit he had once paid to an old acquaintance of his in Tipperary who played the accordion and was mad for the music. The accordion player was either very sick, very cold for the want of central heating or just very laid back (I can’t remember) but when my uncle visited him he was sitting up in the bed happily playing the accordion with two holes cut in the blankets to accommodate his arms.
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
Der Liddle Fur Cap
Der next night vas Christmas
Der night it vas shtill
Der stocking vas hung
By der schimney to fill.
Nodding vas shtirring
Not at all in der house
For fear dot St Nicholas
Vold nix kom haraus
Der kiddies vas all tired
Und gone to der beds
Und Mudder in night gown
Und I chust ahead
Vas searching around
In closets fer toys
Ve krrept around quiet
Not to make any noise
Now Mudder vas carring
All der toys in her gown,
Showing her person
From up her vaist down
Den as ve cum near
The crib of our boys,
Our youngest und sveetest
Our pride and our choy
His eyes vas wide open
As he peeked from his cot
Und he sees everything
Vot his mudder has got
But he didn't even notice
Der toys in her lap
He chust asked ... for who
iss dat liddle fur cap
Und mudder said hush
Und she smiled mit delight
. . . I tink I gif dot
To your Fodder tonight.
Credit: My Uncle was doing Christmas Eve duty at the Morgantown WV airport in the late 50's. This poem came over the wire that night and has been handed down in our family ever since..
Bob Tedrow
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by bt
Re: whimsy and humour
I say, old chap, Phonsie, that's a rather harsh way of putting it! I'm sure Carson also uses the term "the music" as we all know what music we're on about. That saves you having to write out I-r-i-s-h t-r-a-d-i-t-i-o-n-a-l m-u-s-i-c every time.
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Alf Tupper
Re: whimsy and humour
How long did it take to type that out with all the hyphens, Danny?
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Zina Lee
Re: whimsy and humour
I didn't time it Zina!
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Alf Tupper
Re: whimsy and humour
Drat, old bean, no offense intended, just some robust ribbing. I take your point about "the music" and will incorporate as needed. Cheers.
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
On further reflection, Rab C, I think it behoves me to offer further clarification of the misunderstanding that arose over my use of the work “feck” in relation to you. It has mainly to do, I think, with the ironic nuances of the word in Hiberno-English usage (as far as I know the word is peculiar to Ireland) that are virtually impossible to explicate to one unfamiliar with them. Moreover, there is a general problem with the use of irony in cyberspace communications, and this has been noted on another thread recently in which we participated. However, to proceed with any further exegesis of the issue here (PhD’s are awarded these days on topics of far less magnitude and importance than this, it would seem) would be to deviate too much from the purpose of this thread. Anyway, sorry about the feckin’ misunderstanding agus slan go foill.
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
There's nothing to cheer the soul like hearing a delicate and elderly lady say something like, "Where's the old fecker gone, it's time for his tea..."
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Gzeg
Re: whimsy and humour
Do they use that word in Calgary also, Gzeg?
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
Actually Rab C, I’ve since become aware of the fact that the word “feck” isn’t a standard English word at all, insofar as it’s neither in my Concise Oxford nor Chambers Dictionary. “Feck you” is therefore a meaningless expression. Accordingly, insofar as you my have misconstrued any kind of an apology from any comment I have made heretofore on this issue, I hereby unequivocally state that any apology so misconstrued is neither warranted nor intended. But that’s enough of the feck-arsing. Have any of you feckers any funny stories etc to relate?
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
I can't tell funny stories. I always mess them up.
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Zina Lee
Re: whimsy and humour
Well, you've got me completely baffled now, The Phonse. Let me get this straight - you're not apologising to me for not swearing? And it's taken this many words to not apologise? (deliberate split infinitive, there)
I think that in itself demands an apology.
No worries pal. All highly amusing stuff.
Tell us the one about Mister Fogg, Zina!
As soon as I remember one I'll relate it. Has anyone ever been to Glasgow, and during a conversation with a stranger they ask you "Haw, Jim, Whut's yer name?"
(Jim or Jimmy - and sometimes John, being the colloquial for sir or mister)
So, in the Baked Bean's English, that might translate as:
"I say, kind sir, please tell me, what is your appellation?"
(and we're not talking Bluegrass, here.)
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Alf Tupper
Re: whimsy and humour
Two nuns, Sister Marilyn and Sister Helen, are traveling through Europe in their car. They get to Transylvania and are stopped at a traffic light. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny little Dracula jumps onto the hood of the car and hisses through the windshield.
"Quick, quick!" shouts Sister Marilyn. "What shall we do?"
"Turn the windshield wipers on. That will get rid of the abomination," says Sister Helen.
Sister Marilyn switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns.
"What shall I do now?" she shouts. "Switch on the windshield washer.
I filled it up with Holy Water at the Vatican," says Sister Helen.
Sister Marilyn turns on the windshield washer. Dracula screams as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns.
"Now what?" shouts Sister Marilyn?
"Show him your cross," says Sister Helen.
"Now you're talking," says Sister Marilyn. She opens the window and shouts, "GET THE FECK OFF OUR CAR!"
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Phantom Button
Re: whimsy and humour
hehehe. I love that story, but it's really Cara's, and surely everyone's read it by now. Although our friend Tom, who is the Sgt of Patrol for our local police dept., has some hilarious stories about arrests and roadside pullovers that he told at one of our parties last week. I'll see if I can't remember any of those, but without Tom's inimitable delivery, surely they won't be so funny...(The one about the guy who was so drunk that, while waiting for the breathalyzer test, he thought it would be a good idea to spray Windex in his mouth comes to mind.)
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Zina Lee
Re: whimsy and humour
Many happy returns, Zina, Jack and Rab. I'll drink a smathan of Jameson 12 Years Old to youse all. Rab, the verbosity of that post was really due to the fact that I've decided to go for the PhD after all, and that was my abstract. The title I've decide upon is "The arbitrariness and plurisignative properties of the linguistic sign in the context of non-conguent semantic fields generated by cyperspace interaction"
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
Too short. You'll never get anywhere if you don't explain yourself fully, boyo. ;)
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by Zina Lee
Re: whimsy and humour
Youse have me all confused now. First Rab gives out about abbreviated utterances, then about verbose ones. And now you're at it, Zina. BTW, BT, I should have acknowledged your earlier contribution in the above libation. Anyway, as I'm feeling generous, here's two more music related anecdotes that somebody somewhere might find amusing:
The first one concerns a fiddle player friend of mine (though I have not seen him for a good while) and a very funny, fun-loving roguish character with no shortage of neck – one of those characters about whom everybody who knows him has at least one or two funny stories to tell. This is a story he told against himself. Years ago he worked in a factory in Limerick and he was made redundant. He also happened to have just taken up the fiddle, having previously played the mandolin. Through contacts he managed to inveigle his way into a summer job with the local tourism board, which involved playing the fiddle to “entertain” “Yanks” as they descended to the runway in Shannon Airport. One day who should descend from a plane but Kris Kristoffersen. Kris was so impressed by the music that he said to my friend as he passed by, “Hey, man, that’s lovely bluegrass music you’re playin’ there”.
This one, again factual, concerns the eminent musicians Joe Burke and Seamus Tansey (and I don’t want to start another Tansey-bashing queue here – I’m told by a musician who knows him well that Tansey has his good points, like most of the rest of us, notwithstanding his curmudgeonly tendencies). There was a session or gig not too long ago somewhere in the Sligo-Leitrim region that featured the two aforementioned musicians and others. The musician from whom I heard this was also present. Anyway, Seamus Tansey responded to something somebody said (presumably a wind-up) and launched into an anti-British royal family tirade, as some of us unreconstructed Paddies are wont to do on the slightest provocation. Joe Burke responded by telling Tansey that he would be surprised to learn that in fact the Queen was a devoted fan of Irish traditional music and had a fabulous collection of recordings, including a comprehensive collection of old 78’s of Sligo fiddle music and that she preferred Killoran to Coleman. Seamus Tansey was completely taken aback and said no more, apparently gobsmacked and completely bowled over with a new-found respect for British royalty. I’m told that Joe Burke, as well as his musical proficiency, is endowed with a wicked talent for fun and irony. The beard, of course, is a considerable asset in the execution of such deadpan sallies.
# Posted on December 23rd 2004 by An Goban Saor
Re: whimsy and humour
Kris Kristoffersen graduated from my high school. It's the only contact with him I've ever had. ;) Love the Tansey story!
I don't think I could get away with slagging someone for verbosity, phonsie, I'd get jumped immediately! Heh. (I was teasing Danny with the hyphen thing, as that whole "too long to type out" thing has been a bit of a running joke since we first started using it way back when. God, what was that now, four years ago? Three?)
# Posted on December 24th 2004 by Zina Lee
Re: whimsy and humour
Another Tansey story, not quite as good as the above, but an antidote to the recent scandal involving the young Kerry lass:
A friend of mine (and many people's around the Irish music world) turned up at a session with Seamus Tansey and another respected musician (I forget who), whilst Tansey was in London last year. Some of you will know that Seamus Tansey, in addition to his skills as a flute player, is handy on the bodhran. On this particular occasion, he had not brought his flute out and, on the spur of the moment, borrowed a bodhran from the aforementioned friend.
The three of them got stuck into the session. At the end of the night, the governor gave his thanks to each of the musicians by name, and ... "the fellow there on the bodhran." Seamus Tansey remained tacit.
# Posted on December 24th 2004 by ragaman
Re: whimsy and humour
...Jim or Jimmy - and sometimes John, being the colloquial for sir or mister...
Rab - or can I call you Danny? - I came across a guitarist in Dingle this summer, who insisted on calling me 'George'. One might reasonably assume that he had forgotten my name, or thought I was someone else. But another fellow at the session, whom I had first met a few days earlier, was subjected to the same treatment. We were both English (myself from London, and him from Yorkshire), so presumably it was his default form of address for Englishmen - rather like 'Paddy' for an Irishman. The funny thing is, the guitarist himself hailed fom Liverpool, born under the flag of St. George.
# Posted on December 24th 2004 by ragaman
Re: whimsy and humour
... I can't remember his name, but I'm sure it wasn't George.
# Posted on December 24th 2004 by ragaman
Re: whimsy and humour
Ha! Ha! great stuff lads. Seriously big LOL's at The Phonse's stories, particularly the Kristoferson one. And the Baked Bean one. Thanks Phonsie. A great christmas present.
Hey Dave (MG) - can I call you David? I've heard that "George" appellation among Cockneys.."Allwight Geowge, 'Awa ya doin' mate?".... I tell ye, you really meet them on the building sites. Not that I'd ever want to go near one again in me natural, know waht ah mean, Geowge?"
# Posted on December 25th 2004 by Alf Tupper
Re: whimsy and humour
Actually, I quite like 'MG'. Other session members needn't know that I drive a Holdsworth tourer.
# Posted on December 25th 2004 by ragaman
Re: whimsy and humour
"I've heard that "George" appellation among Cockneys.."
I wouldn't know about that - I'm from *West* London.
# Posted on December 25th 2004 by ragaman
Re: whimsy and humour
Except that "MG" often means "Michael Gill" around here. Oh, context is so important... ;)
# Posted on December 25th 2004 by Zina Lee
Re: whimsy and humour
Holdsworth tourer? Mountain Goat. I'm a Dawes Galaxy man myself.
# Posted on December 25th 2004 by curlew
Re: whimsy and humour
Just caught up to the fecking discussion here. A real language lesson! "Awa" is used as a contraction for "how are you." "Fodder" is used for "father" instead of refering to horse food. "Youse" is also used, and Irish would pronounce "youth" as "yout," as differentiated from "Ute," a Native American tribe. Similarly "me turd brudder" with subtitles would be "my third brother," which has no reference to certain bodily..... I won't go there. This is getting chust a liddle mudderfecking confusing. Tanks for the Appellations ( my Bluegrass Uncle lives in the Appellation Mountains).
# Posted on December 27th 2004 by CeolCairdeas