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April 30, 2010

Good ole Rocky Top! Rocky Top, Tennessee!

Yesterday I got myself (and some of the commenters, whoops) stuck singing Rocky Top all afternoon. I had not thought of that song in forever and all the sudden I was singing it and remembered every single word. How is it possible that I do not remember my own phone number yet I know that once two strangers climbed ol' Rocky Top looking for a moonshine still?

Strangers ain't come down from Rocky Top, reckon they never will.

I don't even remember when I first learned that song but I know we used to sing it obsessively at 4-H camp in the summers. I LOVED 4-H camp. It was out at a campground somewhere in the sticks and we stayed in cabins and sang songs and got lice and all that great country kid summer stuff. I loved running with my pack of friends and making braided keychains and using a router to burn my name in a piece of 2x4, something I'm guessing today's sheltered nine-year-olds don't get to do lest they burn a finger off.

The other song we sang over and over and over was the Cider song:

Sipping Cider Through A Straw

The prettiest girl [Echo.], I ever saw, [Echo.]
Was sipping cider through a straw.
[Repeat previous two lines.]
I asked her if, [Echo.] she'd show me how, [Echo.]
To sip that cider through a straw.
[Repeat previous two lines.]

(except we would sing it like this: I asked her if -- I asked her if -- she'd show me how -- she'd show me how -- to sip some ciiiiider through a straw -- der through a straw!)

Then cheek to cheek, and jaw to jaw,
We sipped that cider through a straw.
Every now and then, the straw would slip,
And we'd sip cider lip to lip (lip to lip!)

The parson came to her backyard,
A sipping cider from a straw.
And now I have a mother-in-law,
And fourteen kids to call me Pa.
The moral of this story is,
To sip your cider from a pail!

Actually, I am surprised our bus driver didn't go mentally insane after listening to two hours of cy-dee-eye-dee-eye-der from a straw! We also sang a rather rousing rendition of "On Top of Spaghetti." I still sing it sometimes in my car. I am an excellent singer when no one is listening.

So, there you go, happy Friday. You can thank me later for the therapy bills incurred from not being able to shake camp songs. Wild as a mink and sweet as a soda pop, I still dream about that!

Posted by laurie at April 30, 2010 3:50 AM