Axiom # 20,170,911

“Milk, milk, lemonade. In the back, is where fudge is made.” Thus spoke Ghostnutstra_9_11_17


“Shit Eating Grin”

https://www.google.com/search?q=shit+eating+grin&client=ms-android-att-us&prmd=ivsn&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwju_b6qzp3WAhUpzoMKHc7yCXgQ_AUIESgB&biw=360&bih=517#imgrc=u7Rqt81Lwqrf4M:

The Night Before the Fourth…Again

catguts

Years ago, when I was a wee lad, my grandfather, Alexander Ignatius Connolly, used to sit me on his knee and teach me “ditties”.

In my family, a ditty is a crude variation of a commonly known song, with lots of word interchange and improvisation.

Around this time of year he was keen on getting me to sing “The Night Before the Fourth”.

He would clap his hands, and move his index finger up and down in time with the singing. I think he had grand dreams of being the famous Alexander of the Ragtime Band.

The best part for me, was watching him laugh like hell when he got myself or my sister to repeat off-colored lyrics. It was a great victory for him, and from my experience, there is nothing cuter or funnier than a kid dropping some profanity without knowing that they are being naughty.

So, for Alexander Ignatius Connolly, this one’s for you.

Please sing the BOLDED words to yourself, using the “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow” jingle.

The night before the fourth.

The night before the fourth.

The cat shit in the shavings.

The cat shit in the shavings.

The cat shit in the shavings, the night before the fourth.

This was usually followed up with a quick question/answer poem:

Listen! Listen!

The cat’s pissing.

Where? Where?

Under the chair.

Quick! Quick!

Get the gun.

All, hell, he’s all done.