Immediately as I started reading, I began to wonder how it would sound if properly read out loud.

But your option is much, much better.

You do recognize the source, don't you? I don't know how far it's known outside the Engelstalige wereld.

I did not, thank you. All I've got are notions of Gilbert and Sullivan's works (mostly from looking up references, a lot of which I probably encountered here on ML), but I've never actually experienced (or read) any of their plays.

Now you've made me wonder, though, how far they are known over here. I think I might ask around.

Now I'm all the more curious if it's a cultural reference most of us Belgians miss out on, or if it's just me.

But what would the appropriate Fluorospherical uniform be? Aside from a troll-bashing club, of course.

abi: I must say I like that link right well. A glorious mix of serious play, and self-aware self-mockery.

I really need to see more G&S.

Oh, you've missed _so_ much! You're Dutch/Netherlandish, If I remember correctly, and I'm not sure how well G&S's humorous Victorian England satire would would travel across cultures, but I'd venture to say that you really _need_ to see & hear the Operettas (preferably in properly-hammy performances) -- there are some very good movie versions, especially those featuring Danny Kaye. The scripts/printed plays are fine, of course, but communicate only a relatively small part of the possible Effect. (Mind you, the Patter Songs are Really Fast, and you'll probably have to hit "replay" several times (& refer to the printed libretto) to figure out what's going on, but I think it's well worth it.)

Season 3, Episode 4.

I actually saw it just now (here), in my quest to discover all the references again from my new slightly more informed point of view. (also: scrubs, the simpsons, animaniacs, ..)

Don Fitch @11

Discovering their operas has been on my mental 'to do' list for quite a while now. This thread has (happily) made it clear to me how much more I might have missed and will miss, so it's become that much more urgent! Any performances you (or anyone) would recommend, or are the movie adaptations you suggested the better option?

Carrot of Penzance.

From ~6:15.

You called for a disemvoweller?

Much as I sympathize with SF fans being bullied in school (hey, I'm a geek too), is this really the time? Five gay kids have killed themselves in three weeks.

The quick answer is, working to stop bullying (and shaming) makes it better quicker for everyone, wherever the bullying/shaming happens. Yep, now's a particularly important time for helping gay teens -- and people are on it, doing a good job so far. And we can help expand it just a little bit, maybe.

I would have to disagree with Don Fitch@11; none of the movie versions I've seen have been anywhere near good enough. The problem is that movies need stars -- movie stars, not opera stars. The music is simply too difficult for the singers in all the movie versions I've seen, and hence the whole thing suffers badly.

Well, except for Topsy Turvy, which is wonderful, and incidentally has most of a full performance of one play and snippets of several others. I guess it sneaks by through not being just a movie of one of the plays.

Our local amateur group (the Gilbert and Sullivan Very Light Opera Company) is remarkably good; in fact they've just appointed a new music director, who turns out to the be the assistant conductor of the Minnesota Orchestra in his day job. I've seen them do several performances of most of the plays by now, and am always happy to go back.

I am reminded of mi profesora di español saying in class (as far as my monoglot, English-native, accent-deaf classmates could hear): "Remember, in espanish it is berry important -- always pay close attention to your bowels." Pause, as she assesses the HUH looks. "Your bowels. Not *bowels*" gestures to her midsection, "Your BOWels. Also your consonants."

(I am sure that a better dinosaur never sat a gee)

Thus:

Our captain is Teresa,
Dead language puns do please 'er
And if betime, they also rhyme
You'll even drop and freeze 'er.

The first mate's name is Patrick
Flamboyant and theatric
He'll play guitar an' tend the bar
An' edit for an 'at trick.

(chorus:)
Writin' in the Lightin'
Frightenin' the blightin'
Flightin' wit' our writin'
It's what we like to do.

The bosun, Jim, 's a worrier
Who struggles to assure yer
If a comet hits when you've no kits
His spirit will abjure yer.

Our cook's a skirt called Abi
She's garrulous and gabby.
And glad to find you fourteen lines
On language or kohlrabi.

Writin' in the Lightin'
Frightenin' the blightin'
Flightin' wit' our writin'
It just feels right, it's true.

The cabin boy's named Grumer
A far from idle roomer:
He'll pen an ode, debug your code,
Or disemvowel foul humor.

Our crew crawled braes a-brembled
To be herein assembled
With verbal quips and wit like whips,
Until the welkin trembled

Writin' in the Lightin'
Frightenin' the blightin'
Flightin' wit' our writin'
'Tis silly, but 'twill do.

Writin' in the Lightin'
Frightenin' the blightin'
Flightin' wit' our writin'
We saved a spot for you.

(Fold in animated Sex Pistols to suit taste.)

I am the very model of a hopey-changey liberal

What I wouldn't give now for a list of posters, organized by syllable count, and suffix sound. And a holocaust cloak.

By one of those strange coincidences, I watched it on Saturday.

"He brought in Trainee Taura, who is like a Wookie Amazon
(He got her into uniform but likes her with pajamas on)
His ship's so full of women you'd mistake it for a nunnery --
But one where all the sisters are superior at gunnery."

And then there's the whole writing-silly-G&S-and-other-pastiches-from-Neil-Gaiman's-party-invitations thing, which can be found in part in IDEA #12 (if you google for Idea, Geri Sullivan, Ford, and conflagrations, you'll probably find a pdf of it somewhere), but I dare not reproduce that here. It was funny, though -- especially sitting in Neil's living room singing Mike's version of Guys and Dolls, which involved Guy Fawkes disguised as a barrel of herring.... No, there's no good way to explain it, but it led to the Guys & Dolls stuff the next year.

Must resist temptation to stay up and write Fluorospherean verses, as sleep is of the essence.

"I don't explain them, I only introduce them."
- Kermit

Also the Groucho Marx Mikado, though that one was pretty much doomed from the start.

I hereby vow* not to use my meagre photoshop skills to make a picture of a disemboweller..

--
* Do not. write. 'bow'. Aargh, so tempting!

I rather like Mr. Marx as Ko-Ko. On first hearing, I thought lines had been rewritten for him, but they were pure Gilbert. I do wish the show hadn't been cut so mercilessly, of course.

Do I correct people's grammar that much? I do try not to do that. Except for trolls.

Yolk'an say that with a straight face?

My pastiche well seems to have run dry. Ack.

Serge, your mind is clearly scrambled. Take a deep breath.* I don't want to have to harshly repoach you.
____
*You know why this is a pun.

That seems a bit hard-boiled. I was only going to threaten to separate them.

I've studied long the placement of the fruit that is most chilly-ums
And also know a little bit of famous verse by Will-i-ams
Though plunder-worthy plums are neither animal nor mineral
I've stolen me a feast that's worthy of a major general

A marriage with a hungry poet takes a little hardening
And flowers chocolates and some grapes should buy a bit of pardoning
Of sleeping on the sofa I am tired and it's no wonder, fer
I am the very model of an icebox plum bowl plunderer

[1] Get your mind out of the gutter!

Mark, 62: Well, I don't see us leaving it alone any time soon....

I've totally poached their oeuf-vre.

**runs away fast**

**stays gone for just a second**

**runs back in**

Did you know that Katisha's solo "The Hour of Gladness" goes beautifully to the tune of "The Phantom of the Opera"? You can find the lyrics here, near the end of the Act I Finale.

**runs back out again, pursued by at least two separate crowds**

albatross@61: I want to do your taxes and knit you stripey socks. Wait, let's see ...

I want to do your tack-us-es and knit you stripey sock-ess-es,
I want to send you presents in assortaments of bock-us-es.
Your poeting's terrific and your wit is quite remarkable,
The sun should ever shine on you, unless you want it darkable.

Translate it into Klingon?

Alternatively (since moose are no good at languages):

This is Just to Say

I have sodomized
the dinosaurs
that were in
your ice age

and which
you were probably
saving
for Darwin

Forgive me,
they looked
so lonely
and so cold

For so many others, ova-tions and eggsultation!

and which
you were probably
saving
for a flaming thread.

forgive me
She was a plum
so wise
and so soothing

(We'll not even think of eating small purple fruits. Too much like tribbles.)

Mark @ 62:
Is there anything we will not do to that poem?

I don't think any of us will respect it in the morning.

Also, regarding what you say in the comment thread about that song being about a specific phase in Miles's life: if someone were to want to write a sequel, so to speak, I note that "I am the very model of a Barrayaran Auditor" scans properly. Maybe in a few weeks when there's more new material...

Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that the Klingon version would boil down to something along the lines of "I ate your plums -- ya wanna make something of it?" I doubt that anything even vaguely approximating an apologetic tone would be available.

For an audition (far back in the dark days when I trod the boards) I had to sing a G&S song with intensity and a touch of pathos.

For my sins, I was cast.

Willow, titwillow, titwillow.

----
* It scans much better in the original tlhIngan Hol, of course.

(what is it with me a poem typos?!)

I was bustling about the house, loudly singing I am the very model of a modern major general... as I passed the back door, and found the dog asking to be let out. The dog is 13 years old, and does not move quickly, so I was absent-mindedly holding the door open, and bellowing, for quite a while before I realized what I was doing. There was no applause.

Our neighbors never got upset at the way we would race around the yard in the evening wielding salt shakers to destroy slugs; Portlander are used to weird so I doubt that W. S. Gilbert is going to disconcert them.

That's why there's still a definitive answer even if one specifies chicken-egg. Well, okay, two possible answers; first you have to define your terms.

If a chicken-egg is:

a) an egg laid by a chicken--
then the chicken came first (first chicken laid first chicken-egg)

b) an egg that a chicken hatches out of--
then the egg came first (first chicken hatched out of first chicken-egg).

See? Simple. ;)

The answer is: the rooster.

It was, and it was marvelous. I had that tape in my formative years, and listened to it repeatedly.

In fact, thanks to that tape (and the song from Ruddigore it ported over), I actually unexpectedly landed the supporting role in a Doctor Who filk operetta☂. The person originally recruited to play The Companion discovered at the con where we were to perform that the Ruddigore patter song (My Eyes Are Fully Open, with lines like "This particularly rapid, unintelligible patter isn't generally heard, and if it is it doesn't matter") was included in her role.

She quite rationally decided not to try to learn a full-bore G&S patter song at the last second. Thankfully, I knew all the required tunes by heart, so we swapped -- she became Third Townsfolk From The Right, as it were, and I got to be the Companion. Luckily, my spare shirt for Sunday morning said "My Parents Were Abducted By Aliens And All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt," so my costuming needs were clearly handled.

☂ "Doctor Who and the Torians; or, the Lass that Loved a Cyberman", by S. Bruce; originally written in 1984. Because I know this crowd is interested, the songs are as follows:
- If You Want To Know Who We Are (We're a Trio of Cybermen)
- Oh Better Far to Live and Die (With a plastic arm and a plastic thigh)
- I Am the Very Model of a Modern TARDIS Traveler
- We Are Warriors Three (Fearsome Cybermen)
- My eyes are fully open to the awful situation (I must hurry to The Doctor and I'll give him an oration)
- With Cat-Like Tread (on Cybermen we steel. -Not steel, gold!)
- We Must Defeat these Cybermen (tto 'When First my Old, Old Love I Knew')
- A wandering Timelord I a thing of scarves and hatses—
- Impersonating Cybermen should not be hard to do (tto "It’s Clear that Mediaeval Art Alone Retains its Zest”")
- In bygone days I had the love
- For he is a Gallifreyan? He is! Hurrah for the Gallifreyan!
- Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen / Our stratosphere is now serene

I have the whole libretto in pdf format, if you know anyone who needs to see it (or perform it).

There's the pestilential nuisances who spew out poisoned hate
All people who too arrogantly think their creds have weight
All sock puppets who on tooting their own horns insist
They'd none of them be missed
They'd none of them be missed

Now that is exactly the reason I hold long conversations with visiting cats while I haul the garbage container to the street and so on. Unlike yours, my behavior clearly marks me as normal and sane to my neighbors.

Or, maybe not? as they cannot see with whom I'm conversing nor ever hear any responses.

Love, C.

May I suggest a small revision?

There's the pestilential nuisances who spew out poisoned hate
All people who too arrogantly think their creds have weight
All sock puppets who on tooting "someone else's" horns insist
They'd none of them be missed
They'd none of them be missed

All sock puppets who on tooting "someone else's" horns insist

Heh. I like it, but unless I'm hearing it differently than you're thinking it, I think it's lost the meter. Maybe who on tooting "someone's" horns insist ?

I think my meter meter is broken; now no matter how I stare at it I can't make it come out right! I suspect this means it's past my bedtime....

Perhaps And all sock puppets who on tooting "someone's" horns insist - that seems to my ear to have the right meter. (Although it doesn't quite capture the sense you were going for.)

I've known some very intelligent cats over the years; using baby talk on cats (or human toddlers, for that matter) just seems condescending and cringe-worthy to me.

Answer: obviously he's lying; some Cretans, including him, are liars, and others aren't. Or alternatively, he's telling the truth, but a liar doesn't lie all the time.

And what metric do we use to determine if it's a metric meter?

(Back later for better palaver.)

Hexameter is the key insight.

Of course in a real-world context,it's absurd to suppose that all statements made by Cretans should be false. But that can be got round by considering a more restricted class, e.g. statements made by Cretan prophets at ten o'clock on a Thursday morning. If all such statements so far have been false, and then Epimenides says, at ten o'clock on a Thursday morning, that they are false, what is the truth?

(We will ignore the fact that holy scripture says that Epimenides' statement was true.)

The interesting bit is that they also did a study with the same subjects talking to their pets and found that although there were obvious similarities, pet-talk lacked the key characteristic of baby-talk.

(details)

Is that what happened to the meter? Somebody put a hex on it?

And I like the meretricious meter idea.

Excellent! I only wish I felt metric enough to say something musical.

... oh ... I thought he was talking through his labyrinth.

This, to my ear, smooths out the bump and also suggests "stalking horse," which is not amiss in the situation.

Oh, that's perfect! Thanks for correcting my updating of Otter's verse! I hope Otter likes it.

--Cal

And stocking puppets who on touting "someone else" insist

I like it!

Tom Holt has a lot to answer for.

Superb. Just superb.

(although I almost missed him and didn't know him well)

Raphael, I never met him, and didn't really know his writing until after his death, but I've been making a point to track down everything I could since then. Not long ago I found an old copy of "Web of Angels" at Powell's, and was very impressed at the maturity of even his earliest work.

I need to read some of it.

My list of likes is grand,
With things both rich and strange as
I ring all sorts of changes
Where'er I put my hand, yes
Where'er I put my hand!

Would you dwell on medieval times?
I'll dwell with you!
Oh, fal lal lal lah lum!
Or do you love more recent rhymes?
I dig those too!
Oh, sorry about your plum!

I'll fill your scanning eyes
With notions old and wise
While footnotes rise
From sources new —
Oh, diga diga dum.

But if real-life revelations should be called for,
I've scientific studies rightly made
For whatever wonders we may meet in fiction
Reality can put them in the shade!
I sing of scientists who question all things
And settle for no theory lacking proof
And I know that if it's cosmic lore or small things
They'll never ever rest, until they reach the truth

(Yes, if it's cosmic lore or even things too small for us to see
They'll never rest, until they reach the truth!)

And if you dote on a sharp turn of phrase
You're sure to find it here.
Like many others, you'll stand in amaze
At the quibbles rich, and the many ways
The winds of chat can veer!

(Woo hoo! 'Tis True!
The winds of chat do veer!)

To play it safe with a dull cliché
Some other site may approve
But the only lines we find okay
Are swift and light
And crafted tight
And freshly made today, hey hey!
Like a chess grandmaster's move.

(Then wipe your keyboard — off we go
As toward the light we steer
With a hip hooray
And a rondelet
The winds of chat will veer!

With a hip hooray
And a rondelet
Hey hey! Hooray!
Hooray! Hey hey!
And rondelet,
Olé!)

A fluorospheroid I,
A fool for songs and verses
For rhyming metric curses
And knowing how and why…
And knowing how
(and knowing how and why)
and why!

Bravo, m'sieur.

I have read
the poems
that were in
the thread

and which
will probably
earworm us
for weeks

Forgive me
they were delicious
so silly
and so warm

Chorus:
Earworms earworms,
Roly poly earworms,
Earworms earworms,
Obsess me arrggghh!

In the morning,
Horrifying earworms,
In the evening,
Floating in my brain.

(Chorus)

Tell an earworm
To a passing stranger,
They won't answer.
Yay! You're cured!

(Chorus)

Other recent poems - Kip W, Bruce Cohen, janetl - applause.

And now, the winner of the Little Jack Horner "What a Good Boy" Prize ...