Relay-Version: version B 2.10 5/3/83; site utzoo.UUCP Posting-Version: version B 2.10.1 6/24/83; site sphinx.UChicago.UUCP Path: utzoo!watmath!clyde!cbosgd!ihnp4!gargoyle!sphinx!mmar From: mmar@sphinx.UChicago.UUCP (Mitchell Marks) Newsgroups: net.jokes Subject: Father Goose Message-ID: <727@sphinx.UChicago.UUCP> Date: Mon, 24-Jun-85 17:21:41 EDT Article-I.D.: sphinx.727 Posted: Mon Jun 24 17:21:41 1985 Date-Received: Tue, 25-Jun-85 03:42:50 EDT Organization: U. Chicago - Computation Center Lines: 60 {}{}{} Late in the previous century, the well-known folklorist Vivian McNabb was collecting ballads and tales in the Scottish Highlands, and found a previously unknown musical instrument, something in the lyre-lute-dulcimer range. Itwas sitting unused as a family heirloom, and the family who owned it no longer knew exactly how it should be tuned or played, nor did anyone else in the region. McNabb purchased it, and showed it in every village he passed through. Nobody could give him completely accurate information, and nobody could tune it or play it, but some clues began to fall in place. Several people mentioned Seamus O'Pernokkety, who lived in Ireland, as a great authority on stringed instruments. McNabb determined to go over and consult Seamus. [Insert shaggy description of McNabb's difficult travels, and the frustrating search for Seamus O'Pernokkety.] Finally, weak and confused, McNabb stumbled up to the door of the cabin at the top of the steep hill. Success at last! Seamus recognized the instrument, and agreed to tune it and teach McNabb how to play, but only if McNabb would serve as his apprentice for a full year. [Insert description of McNabb's arduous year of servitude at the feet of his musical guru.] When the year was up, Seamus took the instrument out of the cupboard, spent the rest of the day tuning it up, and played all night and all the next day. It was the most remarkable, beautiful tone McNabb had ever heard. He stayed on another month, until he too had some proficiency at playing. At last they parted. McNabb skipped and jumped down the hill, exulting in his newfound skill in playing the instrument, and in the precious object itself. So unbridled was he in his joyous carriage, that he tripped and fell, and went tumbling arse-over-teacup down into a ravine. A large boulder finally broke his fall, and also his leg. The instrument, however, did not seem to be damaged. But when he tried to play it, it proved to be badly out of tune, and he could wring from it nothing but harsh discords. There was no help for it: he painfully crawled all the way back up the terrible hill, arriving at Seamus's cottage late that evening. "Oh, Seamus, the most terrible thing has happened!" he gasped out, and explained about his accident. "Please, maestro, help me in my despair. Retune the instrument! And perhaps do something about my leg, if you can." "Certainly, McNabb, I can set your leg, and you're welcome to food and lodging while it mends. But I hope you realize I can't work on that instrument again." "But why not? Please, you must." "No, I cannot. I thought it was well known: O'Pernokkety tunes but once." -- Mitch Marks @ UChicago (linguistics) ihnp4!gargoyle!sphinx!mmar