[lbo-talk] Hitch's new pals: Manhattan Institute and Frontpage - and Kipling

Andy F andy274 at gmail.com
Sat Apr 21 05:17:12 PDT 2007


On 4/21/07, andie nachgeborenen <andie_nachgeborenen at yahoo.com> wrote:


> (The tune to the SSB is an old British drinking song,
> though how anyone can sink it drunk when no one can
> sing it sober is beyond me; Hendrix's version is the
> only one I can stand, although I of course I do stand
> _for_ it at ball games, commencement, and other
> ceremonial occasions)

The lyrics seem a little unusual too. Maybe an Oxbridge drinking song?

<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_Anacreon_in_Heaven>

I.

To Anacreon in Heav'n,

Where he sat in full glee,

A few Sons of Harmony

Sent a petition

That he their Inspirer

And Patron would be;

When this answer arrived

From the Jolly Old Grecian:

"Voice, Fiddle, and Flute,

No longer be mute,

I'll lend you my name

And inspire you to boot, Chorus

And besides I'll instruct you,

Like me, to intwine

The Myrtle of Venus

With Bacchus' Vine." II.

The news through Olympus

Immediately flew;

When Old Thunder pretended

To give himself airs.

"If these Mortals are suffered

Their scheme to pursue,

The devil a Goddess,

Will stay above stairs.

Hark, already they cry,

In transports of joy,

'Away to the Sons

Of Anacreon we'll fly, Chorus

And there with good fellows,

We'll learn to intwine

The Myrtle of Venus

With Bacchus' Vine. III.

"The Yellow-Haired God

And his nine fusty Maids

From Helicon's banks

Will incontinent flee,

Idalia will boast

But of tenantless shades,

And the bi-forked hill

A mere desert will be.

My Thunder no fear on't,

Shall soon do its errand,

And dam'me I'll swing

The Ringleaders I warrant. Chorus

I'll trim the young dogs,

For thus daring to twine

The Myrtle of Venus

With Bacchus' Vine." IV.

Apollo rose up,

And said, "Pry'thee ne'er quarrel,

Good King of the Gods,

With My Vot'ries below:

Your Thunder is useless"--

Then showing his laurel,

Cry'd "Sic evitabile

Fulmen, you know!

Then over each head,

My laurels I'll spread,

So my sons from your Crackers

No mischief shall dread, Chorus

While, snug in their clubroom,

They jovially twine

The Myrtle of Venus

With Bacchus' Vine." V.

Next Momus got up

With his risible Phiz

And swore with Apollo

He'd cheerfully join --

"The full tide of Harmony

Still shall be his,

But the Song, and the Catch,

And the Laugh shall be mine.

Then, Jove, be not jealous

Of these honest fellows."

Cry'd Jove, "We relent,

Since the truth you now tell us: Chorus

And swear by Old Styx,

That they long shall intwine

The Myrtle of Venus

With Bacchus' Vine." VI.

Ye Sons of Anacreon,

Then join hand in hand;

Preserve Unanimity,

Friendship, and Love!

'Tis yours to support

What's so happily plann'd;

You've the sanction of Gods,

And the Fiat of Jove.

While thus we agree,

Our toast let it be:

"May our Club flourish Happy,

United, and Free! Chorus

And long may the Sons

Of Anacreon intwine

The Myrtle of Venus

With Bacchus' Vine."

-- Andy



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