Homespun Humor
Song lyrics can take on a new meaning
By Linda Fink
Special Writer, The Sun

The older I get, the more Mondegreens I hear. A Mondegreen, in case you’ve forgotten, is the mishearing of a popular phrase or song lyric. The name was coined by writer Sylvia Wright and comes from the Scottish ballad The Bonny Earl of Murray.

Ye Highlands and ye Lowlands

Oh where hae you been?

They hae slay the Earl of Murray,

And Lady Mondegreen.

Wright thought Lady Mondegreen was a tragic heroine dying with her liege. When she learned, years later, that what they really did was slay the Earl of Murray and lay him on the green, she was so distraught by the sudden disappearance of her heroine that she memorialized her with a neologism (a word not recognized by the Oxford English Dictionary and other snobs).

Mondegreens, whether OED recognizes them or not, are everywhere. For instance, many of us are familiar with the fine old hymn, Gladly, the Cross-eyed Bear, otherwise known as Gladly the Cross I’d Bear. I always thought Gladly was an odd name for a bear, cross-eyed or otherwise, so I was relieved when I finally read the real words.

The pledge of allegiance is a veritable hotbed of Mondegreens. Those of you as old as I am may have learned "I pledge a lesion to the flag, of the United State of America, and to the republic for Richard Stans, one naked . . . individual, with liver tea and just this for all."

Back when I learned the pledge, "Under God" had not yet been inserted. When they put the "Under God" after "one naked", I thought it meant we are all naked in the eyes of God. Made sense to me. The liver tea was a bit harder to understand, but there’s no accounting for tastes.

At the Center for the Humane Study of Mondegreens, found by roaming the Internet, various people have submitted their own Mondegreens, making me feel a little better about mine. I did not know, for instance, that World War II was fought between the Zees and the Not Zees.

James Lauder recounted the story of the pet shop clerk who told him, in all seriousness, that her parents’ wealth did them no good at all because they just sat around their backyard deck in California and "drank themselves to Bolivia."

Geoffrey Gould’s mother was convinced that if, say, you were moving a vase to a high shelf because small children were about to come over, you were moving said vase "Out of arm’s sway." Stephanie von Buchau always believed, correctly, I should think, that "a soft dancer turneth away wrath."

But far and away the most frequent source of Mondegreens, says the Center for the Humane Study of these oddities, is song lyrics. Do you remember Funny Butt, the odd nickname for a singer’s beloved?

I’m in the mood for love

Simply because you’re near me.

Funny Butt, when you’re near me

I’m in the mood for love.

Or how about the Crystal Gayle song, Doughnuts Make Your Brown Eyes Blue. Or the Jimi Hendrix song Purple Haze where he sings "Excuse me while I kiss this guy," actually "Excuse me while I kiss the sky." I’ve heard that Mr. Hendrix was aware he had been Mondegreened, and would occasionally, in performance, actually kiss a guy after saying that line.

No matter our age or music tastes, surely we are all familiar with Round John Virgin, a Shakespearean figure occasionally found in Silent Night. In fact, I suspect the reason that we all read from song sheets at Christmas, even though we’ve sung the same songs a hundred times, is because without the words in front of us, we would revert to our childhood renditions of carols, when we simply mimicked what the adults around us seemed to be singing.

"Peas on earth and Mur Sea mild, garden sitters wreck inside." I wasn’t sure what it meant, or where the Mur Sea was, but I certainly never guessed it was "reconciled."

Later in that song is the phrase "Hark, the Harold Angel sing . . ." The Harold Angel was quite a familiar character to me when I was a child. Not as familiar, of course, as Peas on Earth, which were everywhere.

But now, as I grow older, more and more people use Mondegreens in their daily speech. And so, says my husband, do I. If Johnny and I don’t speak directly toward each other and enunciate very clearly, our conversation sounds like this to me:

Johnny: "Can you help me ferment out here?"

Me: "Can I help you what?"

Johnny: "Wattage hay?"

Me, getting louder and faster: "What do you want me to do?"

Johnny, after a minute’s reflection: "Come louder and help!"

He, on the other hand, hears:

Himself: "Can you help me for a minute out here?"

Me: "Cantaloupe hut?"

Himself: "What did you say?"

Me: "Muddy and mommy to you!"

Himself, after a minute to ponder that last mouthful: "Come out here and help!"

The Oxford English Dictionary had better wake up. Mondegreens have the potential to disrupt whirled peas.