Well We Got Through March

By the skin of our teeth. I don't think I need to point out that this is the death-month of Caesar, and also one that has a Friday the 13th. But have you considered that March is also the mirror month of October- the hauntedest month on the calendar? It's also in that triumvirate of creepy single-syllable months, and the one whose (awkward) abbreviation shortens it from a military command to a word meaning "to damage." I don't trust March, but now it's gone and we can all welcome Spring Proper.

I don't have a photo for this post, but I do have a crazy-intense quote from a book I'm reading. A couple stanzas of "The Ballad of Persse O'Reilly" from Finnegan's Wake. To give you some context: This is a song sung by a man about himself, though the singer and subject seem unaware (or perhaps just unconcerned) of their shared identity. The subject has committed some unnamed sexual sin- whether rape, incest, or the use of contraceptives is unclear, though each is suggested- and the song expresses his guilt about it. Also, he fell off a wall and is now dead.

The Ballad of Perse O'Reilly (select stanzas)

(1) Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And Curled up like Lord Olafa Crumple
By the butt of the Magazine Wall
of the Magazine Wall
Hump, helmet and all?

(14) That our heavyweight heathen Humpharey
Made bold a maid to woo
Woohoo, what'll she doo!
The general lost her maidenloo!

(17) 'Tis sore pity for his innocent poor children
But look out for his missus legitimate!
When that frew gets a grip of old Earwicker
Won't there be earwigs on the green?
Big earwigs on the green,
The largest ever you seen

(19) Then we'll have a free trade Gael's' band and mass meeting
For to sod the brave son of Scandiknavery.
And we'll bury him down in Oxmanstown
Along with the devil and Danes
With the deaf and dumb Danes,
And all their remains.

(20) And not all the king's men nor his horses
Will resurrect his corpus
For there's no true spell in Connacht or hell
That's able to raise a Cain.

That ballad is so intense it leaves me not knowin' what to do. If you want to read the whole thing you can do so here. Gabe noted the amusing union of the words "frau" and "shrew" in stanza 17.