Ever So Divine: The Persistence Of The Sounds Of Sarah Vaughan

The American jazz singer, Sarah Vaughan, known as "Sassy" and "The Divine One," performed for almost fifty years. She was not only a singer but also a magician who could wring a full spectrum of rmotion from a song with her warmth and three-octave range. Indeed she was a symphony of sound. The introductory paragraph of her Wikipedia entry quotes the music critic, Scott Yanow, as saying she had "one of the most wondrous voices of the 20th century." When coupled with the greatest of songwriters from 1930 on I think she could be matched only by Ella Fitzgerald for her vocal magic in popular music and jazz. Thirty-two years after her passing fans still wait for a singer who can approach her amazing voice. I must say that Jane Monheit has done a fine job of blending the Vaughan recipe with her own spices to bring us much of the magic we remember so well. Here is Sassy performing the signature song from late in her career, Send In The Clowns:

That is performance in song. It was recorded twenty years before Auto-Tune and other pitch correction and vocal tuning software could turn tone deaf studio metrosexuals and assorted hotties of any sex into so-called stars. We've come down a long way in what passes for both talent and popular music over the past generation. Of course, there are exceptions but for the most part real singing has become subordinate to other aspects of presentation, performance, and spectacle. And once more I ask the question, "Where is jazz, a genre birthed in the United States?" It is alive in many small markets across the country but it remains a small portfolio in the financial departments of our corporate music industry.

So as the Jane Monheits, Diana Kralls, Jazzmeia Horns, Samara Joys, and others keep jazz alive let us honor the memory of one of its greatest interpreters, Sarah Vaughan, who was born on March 27, 1924, in Newark, New Jersey. For another taste of her magic, here she is near the close of her career performing Misty.

A three octave vocal range, no Auto-Tune, singular perfection.

Vaughan passed away 35 year ago but her music and its legacy remain very much with us.

Sources


Photos and Illustrations:
opening photo, William P. Gottlieb Collection, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

Flannery O'Connor: Southern Beings, Southern Spirits

One of the most significant writers in America, Flannery O'Connor, was born on March 25 in Savannah, Georgia, in 1925. She spent her early childhood as a devout Catholic there in a home just off Lafayette Square. The square features moss-draped live oaks, colorful azaleas, and an abundance of birds, all sitting in the shadows of the towering spires of the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist. Things haven't changed much in this beautiful space. It still has its interesting spectrum of regular visitors: fast-walking pedestrians, lovers holding hand, lunch hour diners, retirees enjoying the benches, touring families, people waiting for the bus, runners and bikers, and children at play. And every day for the last 120 years, the cathedral casts its shadow over the O'Connor home while its bells remind the people of God's grace and their obligations as His children. I think as long as you can visit Lafayette Square, say on any pleasant Sunday afternoon, you can know O'Connor well.

Her family moved to Atlanta in 1938, where her father was diagnosed with lupus, a chronic disease involving the destruction of healthy tissue by the body's immune system. Shortly thereafter they moved 100 miles southeast to her mother's family home in Milledgeville. When her father died in 1941, O'Connor moved a few miles north of town to her uncle's farm where she lived with her mother. Eventually, the farm would be called Andalusia, and it became a refuge following her own diagnosis with lupus in 1950. At Andalusia, she would raise her beloved peacocks and weave her experiences and memories of people, ethics, morals, and religion into her novels, Wise Blood, and The Violent Bear It Away, and scores of short stories published in two collections in her lifetime, A Good Man is Hard to Find, and Everything That Rises Must Converge. Her Complete Stories appeared posthumously in 1971.

Main house at Andalusia

O'Connor's office-bedroom at Andalusia

Lupus, an incurable long-term autoimmune disease, took Flannery O'Connor from us in 1964 when she was in her 39th year. You can visit both her childhood home and Andalusia thanks to foundations that preserve the landscapes and memories she cherished. And, thanks to her, you can visit the South anytime by simply opening one of her books.

Many years ago the management at Andalusia removed scores of the offspring of O'Connor's beloved peacocks to the Monastery of the Holy Spirit, a large Trappist estate about two and a half miles from our ridge top home. At that time the area was still quite rural and the peacocks flourished in and around the monastery grounds.

Thirty years ago on quiet evening when the wind was right it was not unusual for us to hear them calling faintly in the distance. Eventually, they were removed and for some years now there has been no call to break the silence. But we do remember those urgent and sometimes fearful calls in the dusk. Today the woods remain a gallery of sounds. Some we know well. Others we may not recognize so easily. Those of us who know O'Connor's work well may find it difficult to distinguish between the peacock, the author's veil, or the rich spirit world that inhabits her American South. After all, from the ancient traditions of the Catholic world the peacock is the symbol of immortality.

I think it is safe to say that while the South is significantly less Christ-centered than it was in O'Connor's time, it most certainly remains Christ-haunted. The Southerner who isn’t convinced of it is very much afraid if not haunted by the fact that he may have been formed in the image and likeness of God. And visitations by ghosts can be very fierce and instructive. In O'Connor's dance with the grotesque her characters and their angst cast strange shadows. The characters may fade away. Their shadows never fade away.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Childhood photo, Andalusia Farm, Inc. Photo courtesy of the Flannery O'Connor Collection, Georgia College and State University, Milledgeville, Georgia.
House, deepsouthmagazine.com
Bedroom, photo courtesy of Emily Elizabeth Beck
Adult portrait, openculture.com


Text:

Flannery O'Connor entry, Sarah Gordon, et al, georgiaencyclopedia.org
quotation from Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose, selected and edited by Sally and Robert Fitzgerald, New York; Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1969

J. S. Bach: Sounds From Heaven

J.S. Bach statue in Leipzig, Germany

Today marks the birthday (in 1685, and for Old Style calendar sticklers, it's March 21) of one of the great three "B's" in classical music, Johann Sebastian Bach, He gave us some of the most sublime music in western culture and it would be an oversight, especially as a Lutheran, not to honor this master of the Baroque and pillar of Lutheranism. 

Here, in seventeen minutes, I think you will understand the compelling effect Bach music has on listeners. In this interpretation by Glenn Gould you'll also be able to hear the performer's notorious verbal accompaniment.

His music was largely forgotten for almost a century following his death, but had been restored by the first quarter of the 19th century. The new-found popularity of Bach was due largely to the composer-performers, Felix Mendelssohn and Ludwig van Beethoven, and the publication of many of Bach's works. 

I was introduced to the music of J.S. Bach as an infant at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church in my little hometown in the mountains of Maryland. The church already had been baptizing members of my father's family for over seventy years. In the summer of my ninth year our family moved leaving behind not only familiar places but also a church family. When I left town I took Bach's faith and music with me. 

So what makes his music so appealing? I could give you my opinion but I'm going to defer to Rick Beato, a performer, composer, producer, teacher, and music historian who has produced an outstanding fifteen minute assessmenyt of Bach and his legacy. Beato's You Tube channel has many videos on the subject. Prepare to be surprized watching your favorite musicians of the past sixty years - jazz, blues, rock, country, c;lassical, or whatever - discuss the place of Bach in the lives and careers. 

Bach's music has remained very much alive in me since leaving "home" seventy years ago. His preludes. fugues, harmonies, the shear wonder of his work, it's all in my blood, and I can't play a single note of it. Wouldn't have it any other way. I simply listen and let it flow.

It's my hope that you can take time today to listen to the videos in this post. Normally I try to avoid posting music longer than ten minutes but today will be an exception. Also, I trust if interested you'll watch the other Bach videos available on Beato's YouTube channel. You will not be disappointed.

As an aside, I highly recommend Rick Beato's YouTube channel as an outstanding source for news and general info on all kinds of music and music history. He knows the industry from all sides in addition to being an entertaining host and interviewer.

Music's ultimate end or final goal…should be for the honor of God and the recreation of the soul.

                                                        J. S. Bach - Leipzig, 1738

Sources

Photo: stlpublicradio.org, flickr/seabamirum

Spring 2025

An hour or so before sunrise in the eastern US the plane of our planet of our planet pass through the center of the sun. That means today is an equinox day: the sun is directly overhead on the equator at midday and the the length of light and darkness are just about equal anywhere on the planet. This year I don't care to get more technical about the facts. What really matters is it's the first day of Spring in the northern hemisphere. Metro Atlanta could use better weather to mark the arrival. Cloudy skies, gusty 30mph winds, and a temperature flirting with 50 degrees feels far nore like midwinter. No need to fret though as clearer skies and 75 degree temperatures ill be with us by Saturday

When it comes to calendars and changing seasons, I'm always reminded of the French Revolutionary Calendar (1793-1805) teasing us with the warmth and color of Spring. The calendar itself wiped away all references to the past, the old French regime, and a return to an Edenic world. For starters the spring equinox marks the first day of the month of Germinal. Every day had a name appropriate for the season. A revolutionary idea, I'd say. So here is the revolution's personification of Germinal and her fecund thirty days (March 21 - April 19):

1. Primevere - Primrose

2. Plantane - Plane Tree

3. Asperge - Asparagus

4. Tulipe - Tulip

5. Poule - Hen

6. Bette - Chard Plant

7. Bouleau - Birch Tree

8. Jonquille - Daffodil

9. Aulne - Alder

10. Couvoir - Hatchery

11. Pervenche - Periwinkle

12. Charme - Hornbeam

13. Morille - Morel

14. Hetre - European Beech Tree

15. Abielle - Bee

16. Laitue - Lettuce

17. Meleze - Larch

18. Cigue - Hemlock

19. Radis - Radish

20. Ruche - Hive

21. Gainier - Judas Tree

22. Romaine - Lettuce

23 Marronnier - Horse chestnut

24. Roquette - Arugula or Rocket

25. Pigeon - Pigeon

26. Lilas - Lilac

27. Anemone - Anemone

28. Pensee - Pansy

29. Myrtille - Blueberry

30. Greffor - Knife

Wonderful imagery about the season of renewal in those thirty words. The remaining eleven months are equally impressive. Alas, even the best elements of most cultural revolutions are apt to fail. The French Revolutionary Calendar, introduced in 1793, disappeared along with the First French Republic in the early days of the Napoleonic Era beginning in 1805.

Enough with history for now. May your first day of spring be the harbinger of warm weather and wind in your sails. Here is some beautiful imagery in sound to help you on your way.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations: Allegory of Germinal, public domain, wikipedia.fr, French National Library and Bureau of Measures, Paris

He Captured The Character Of The Vanishing West And Shaped Its Image For The World

 

When the Land Belonged to God                 C. M. Russell, 1914

In 2009 my wife and I made a detailed journey along the Missouri River following the route of the Lewis and Clark Expedition (1804-06). It took us from the mouth of the river in Saint Louis to its headwaters at the continental divide on the Montana-Idaho border. One of our destinations was the very appropriately named city of Great Falls, Montana. The Lewis and Clark expedition reached this same series of forbidding obstacles to navigation in June 1805 and spent a month portaging around them. A century later, the city that grew up around the falls would become the home to artist and writer, Charles M. Russell, one of the finest interpreters of the landscape of the American West, its Indian inhabitants, and the cowboy.

Photo portrait of Russell taken around 1900

Russell was born on March 19, 1864, in St. Louis, Missouri, and developed a fascination with the West as a young boy. It never left him. When his parents sent him to boarding school in New Jersey to overcome his obsession, he merely filled his notebooks with sketches of cowboys and Indians until his parents relented and sent him to the frontier with a trusted friend. As a participant-observer, Russell captured Montana in a brief period of perhaps thirty years when boundaries separating the sublime natural setting, Native American culture, and western frontier cowboy culture began to dissolve. In that period his work developed depth and detail and by 1910 he was well-known among art circles from coast to coast. In addition, he had a huge influence on the interpretation of western culture in print and especially in film making. For many years he was the nation's highest earning artist. When he died in 1926, he left a legacy of thousands of illustrations, paintings, sculptures, letters and other material documenting the three themes. Much of that work is displayed today at the C. M. Russell Museum in Great Falls. Within the museum, visitors can see the nature of the Northern Rockies and High Plains and the full range of cultures of those who lived and worked in this beautiful and challenging place. One can see and feel the full range of Russell's personality, from serious to whimsical, by exploring his home and studio.

Russell's Christmas greeting in 1914

Best wishes for your Christmas 

Is all you get from me.

 'Cause I ain't no Santa Claus— 

Don't own no Christmas tree. 

But if wishes was health and money 

I'd fill your buck-skin poke, 

Your doctor would go hungry 

An' you never would be broke.

In the last century, any boy or girl who played "cowboys and Indians," enjoyed stories, illustrations, films, and televisions programs with western themes did so  through Russell's interpretation of his experience. Today, he remains a fascinating example of the reality and mythology of a man who lived his dreams, captured the soul of a vanishing culture, and planted its seeds for others to nuture in their own way. And for citizens of the United States, he is a national treasure. For Big Sky Montana, he is a beloved favorite son.

If you ever find yourself in Great Falls, Montana, pay Charlie a visit. You will not be disappointed.






Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
When the Land Belongs to God, replica, Montana Historical Society, public domain
portrait, public domain
Christmas greeting, Montana Historical Society, public domain

Text:
C. M. Russell Museum, Great Falls, Montana
wikipedia.org
C. M. Russell and the American West, An Unfinished Work, Montana Public Broadcasting Service

St. Patrick's Day 2025

 

 

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Today's post could focus on the contemporary experience of St. Patrick's Day in the U.S. - the wearing of the green, the parades, the parties, the drinking songs. Instead I want to look back at the true meaning of the day, the religious aspects, that so often get lost in the worldly celebration. Of course, there's nothing wrong with celebration - we do live in the world - as long as it's done in moderation while we keep the origins of the day in mind. Enjoy.

If you do nothing else with this post, at least listen to the remarkably powerful hymn.

The Reverend Paul Prange, Chair of the Board for Ministerial Education, Wisconsin Evangelical Lutheran Synod, has this to say about St. Patrick:

When it comes to St. Patrick, truth may be stranger than fiction.

Born in Scotland, he grew up as a Christian but was not too serious about his faith. His life changed suddenly at age sixteen when he was kidnapped by Irish pirates. For six years he labored as a slave, tending pigs and sheep. He began to value the Christian faith in which he had been raised. When he escaped from slavery, he made his way to the coast, got a job on a ship, and returned to his family in Scotland. 

Back in Scotland, he could not get Ireland out of his mind. The love of Christ was compelling him to share with his former captors the promises of God that had come to mean so much to him while he lived among them. After studying the Bible for nearly 20 years, he went back to Ireland a free man, and he never left. 

Patrick baptized thousands of people. He helped to organize congregations all over Ireland, and worked hard to train and ordain men to serve as ministers of the gospel. Among his converts were wealthy women who became Christians in the face of family opposition. He also dealt with the royal family of the time, instructing them in the truths of the faith. 

It is very unlikely that he drove all of the snakes out of Ireland. He probably did not wear green all of the time. But the historical truths of his life are inspiring, and cause us to give thanks to God for faithful missionaries.

Today's music is St. Patrick's Breastplate, a 19th century hymn based on words attributed to him.

St. Patrick's Breastplate

I bind unto myself today

the strong Name of the Trinity,

by invocation of the same,

the Three in One, and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever,

by power of faith, Christ's Incarnation;

His baptism in the Jordan river;

His death on cross for my salvation;

His bursting from the spicèd tomb;

His riding up the heavenly way;

His coming at the day of doom:

I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself today

the power of God to hold and lead,

His eye to watch, his might to stay,

His ear to hearken, to my need;

the wisdom of my God to teach,

his hand to guide, his shield to ward;

the word of God to give me speech,

His heavenly host to be my guard.

Christ be with me,

Christ within me,

Christ behind me,

Christ before me,

Christ beside me,

Christ to win me,

Christ to comfort

and restore me.

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ in quiet,

Christ in danger,

Christ in hearts of

all that love me,

Christ in mouth of

friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself today

the strong Name of the Trinity,

by invocation of the same,

the Three in One, and One in Three.

Of whom all nature hath creation,

Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:

praise to the Lord of my salvation,

salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Our literary piece comes from the opening paragraphs of the Confession, one of two extant documents written by St. Patrick. The translation from the Latin by Ludwig Bieler.

I am Patrick, a sinner, most unlearned, the least of all the faithful, and utterly despised by many. My father was Calpornius, a deacon, son of Potitus, a priest, of the village Bannavem Taburniæ; he had a country seat nearby, and there I was taken captive. 

I was then about sixteen years of age. I did not know the true God. I was taken into captivity to Ireland with many thousands of people---and deservedly so, because we turned away from God, and did not keep His commandments, and did not obey our priests, who used to remind us of our salvation. And the Lord brought over us the wrath of his anger and scattered us among many nations, even unto the utmost part of the earth, where now my littleness is placed among strangers. 

And there the Lord opened the sense of my unbelief that I might at last remember my sins and be converted with all my heart to the Lord my God, who had regard for my abjection, and mercy on my youth and ignorance, and watched over me before I knew Him, and before I was able to distinguish between good and evil, and guarded me, and comforted me as would a father his son.Hence I cannot be silent---nor, indeed, is it expedient---about the great benefits and the great grace which the lord has deigned to bestow upon me in the land of my captivity; for this we can give to God in return after having been chastened by Him, to exalt and praise His wonders before every nation that is anywhere under the heaven. 

Because there is no other God, nor ever was, nor will be, than God the Father unbegotten, without beginning, from whom is all beginning, the Lord of the universe, as we have been taught; and His son Jesus Christ, whom we declare to have always been with the Father, spiritually and ineffably begotten by the Father before the beginning of the world, before all beginning; and by Him are made all things visible and invisible. He was made man, and, having defeated death, was received into heaven by the Father; and He hath given Him all power over all names in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue shall confess to Him that Jesus Christ is Lord and God, in whom we believe, and whose advent we expect soon to be, judge of the living and of the dead, who will render to every man according to his deeds; and He has poured forth upon us abundantly the Holy Spirit, the gift and pledge of immortality, who makes those who believe and obey sons of God and joint heirs with Christ; and Him do we confess and adore, one God in the Trinity of the Holy Name. 

For He Himself has said through the Prophet: Call upon me in the day of thy trouble, and I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me. And again He says: It is honourable to reveal and confess the works of God. 

Although I am imperfect in many things, I nevertheless wish that my brethren and kinsmen should know what sort of person I am, so that they may understand my heart's desire. 

And so I should dread exceedingly, with fear and trembling, this sentence on that day when no one will be able to escape or hide, but we all, without exception, shall have to give an account even of our smallest sins before the judgement of the Lord Christ.

 

Here is a link to the remaining eight pages describing his journey from slave to missionary.

I hope readers enjoyed thia week's posts about Irish culture, especially today's piece on St. Patrick and his place in the history of Chritianity. May you and yours have a safe and happy St. Patrick's Day.





Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
oca.org

Text:

Prange comment, welslutherans site, Facebook
Confessions, catholicplanet.com

St. Patrick's Day Prelude II 2025

 

St. Patrick's Day is but one day away. To get everyone in the spirit for the big day  we take a light-hearted look at the country and bits and pieces of its culture.

In the late 19th century the Arbuckle Bros. Coffee Company of New York began issuing themed advertising cards in series to increase its business. I have over 300 of these cards that were collected by my ancestors over two generations. The company issued three cards with Irish themes and I'm pleased to post two of them in our St. Patrick's Day primer. The first one appeared in the National Geographical Series and did not have descriptive information on the reverse. The description below was issued with the card in the company's special promotional booklet entitled, Arbuckles' Illustrated Atlas of Fifty Principal Nations of the World [1889].

IRELAND, known to the Greeks by the name Ierne (Erin) and to the Romans by the name Hibernia, is the second largest of the British Isles, and is washed on the N. W. and S. sides by the Atlantic Ocean and separated from Great Britain by the N. Channel, the Irish Sea and St. George's Channel. Dublin, the capital, first mentioned by Ptolemy, is one of the finest cities in the Empire, and is situated at the head of Dublin Bay. A Lord Lieutenant is head of the executive government, and is assisted by a Privy Council and Chief Secretary. 

Area, 32,531 square miles; population 1881, 5,174,836. Between 1853 and 1889 2,289,735 Irish emigrants landed in the United States. 

The great central portion of Ireland is flat, and not less than 2,830,000 acres is bog, but much of the soil is of singular fertility. The climate is milder and moister than that of Great Britain, and clothes the plains and valleys with the richest pasture, procuring for Ireland the name of the Emerald Isle. The coast inlets, called Loughs, are many and of great extent. The lakes of Killarney, three in number, in Kerry, and under shadow of the loftiest mountains in the island, are widely famed for their romantic beauty. The chief crops are wheat, barley, oats, potatoes, beans, peas. The live stock comprises horses, cattle, sheep and pigs. The most important manufacture is that of linen. Other industries are muslin sewing, lace making and woolen and worsted goods. There is a considerable amount of whisky distilling and porter brewing. The Shamrock (trefoil) is the national badge of Ireland.

Our second card comes from the Sports and Pastimes of all Nations Series. I think you'll enjoy the description from the reverse.

THE Emerald Isle from time immemorial has been the home of merry sport and gladsome enjoyment. Its people are hotheaded and quick to resent offence, generous to a fault, and forgiving to a degree, superstitious, devout and easy going. 

The celebration of Hallowe'en, the 31st of October is a festivity that is looked forward to with keenest anticipation by all the young people of Ireland. Numerous are the games played. For instance apples are placed in a tub of water and each in turn tries to pick one out with his teeth. If successful it predicted luck in matters of love. 

Another Hallowe'en game is Apple and Candle. On a stick 18 inches long, an apple is fastened at one end, and a lighted candle at the other. The stick is suspended from the ceiling by a string and then the string is swung backward and forward, while the players one by one try to catch the apple in their teeth. 

Who shall describe the Irish jig. Into its engaging movements and attractive energy is infused much of the national spirit. 

A peculiar sport of the Irish, and one very characteristic of the humor of the race is that of the "Greased Pig." Such an animal is anointed so that his hide is extremely slippery. He is then started to run amuck through the ranks of those participating in the play. These attempt to catch and hold his pigship with their hands--a difficult task. He who succeeds, walks off with the prize the squealing cause of the tumult and hilarity. 

The Irish are famous boxers. Boxing is the art of using those natural weapons--the hands, in assault and defence. To be a good boxer one must be quick of eye, self-possessed, ready of device, agile and good-tempered.

There is no shortage of traditional Irish music and we're happy to enjoy it with this post of The Dubliners's definitive version of the 17th century song, Whiskey In The Jar:

As I was a goin' over the far famed Kerry mountains
I met with captain Farrell and his money he was counting
I first produced my pistol and I then produced my rapier
Saying "Stand and deliver" for he were a bold deceiver

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money and it made a pretty penny
I put it in me pocket and I took it home to Jenny
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me
But the devil take the women for they never can be easy

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

I went unto my chamber, all for to take a slumber
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder
But Jenny drew me charges and she filled them up with water
Then sent for captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

'Twas early in the morning, just before I rose to travel
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise captain Farrell
I first produced me pistol for she'd stolen away me rapier
But I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

Now there's some take delight in the carriages a rollin'
And others take delight in the hurling and the bowling
But I take delight in the juice of the barley
And courting pretty fair maids in the morning bright and early

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

If anyone can aid me 'tis my brother in the army
If I can find his station in Cork or in Killarney
And if he'll go with me, we'll go rovin' in Kilkenney
And I'm sure he'll treat me better than me own me sportin' Jenny

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da
Whack fall the daddy-o, whack fall the daddy-o
There's whiskey in the jar

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Ireland, Arbuckle Bros. Coffee Company advertising card series, about 1890, from family archives