They’re comin’ round the mountain of memory, all those ditties and lullabies my mother performed nightly for eons due to her popping out four children and due to the 7 year gap between me and my youngest sister, and the fact that we could hear my mother’s humming room to room to room (for eons). Her voice carried well (still does, only she doesn’t know it, that I’m holding the phone three feet from my ear as she explains things and emphasizes her own personal pronunciations of words like Ikea, which she calls EEE-KAY-AHHHHH–for some reason this makes me CRAZEE-AH, really, utterly CRAZEE-AH every time I hear EEE-KAY-AHHHHH, because it’s not EEE-KAY-AHHHHH, as everyone knows, but simply eye-key-ah, Ikea, that’s it, not EEE-KAY-AHHHHH, I must go to EEE-KAY-AHHHHH and purchase skimpy chairs and tea lights at EEE-KAY-AHHHHH).
One evening, quieting my son, I burst into lullabies, or rather they burst out of me like hidden grenades waiting, just waiting for me to have a baby needing soothing–EEE-KAY-AHHHHH (sorry). As the songs came forth I did pretty well with verses one and two and maybe three, but after that? What happens to the baby in the cradle besides the fall? Does Bonny ever come home? Who murdered Clementine? And most of all, after she comes round the mountain driving six white horses and we all roll out to meet her–then what? Some babies need to know.
Following are a few extra-added verses to Comin’ Round The Mountain, an obsessively used ditty in my condo. Because if your baby has lungs like my baby, tenacity like my baby, the will to hang with the adults at 7 months old like my baby and a knack for waking up at 3am despite having just been fed at 2am, then you, too, need verses and not just a standard two or three, but an arsenal.
SHE’LL BE COMIN’ ROUND THE MOUNTAIN
she’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes (Hi Babe!), etc.
she’ll be drivin’ six white horses when she comes (Whoa Bess!, Hi Babe!), etc.
and we’ll all roll out to meet her when she comes (Toot, toot!, Whoa Bess!, Hi Babe!), etc.
Here’s where my verses come in. The first is an homage to Bridget Jones. I read Bridget Jones’ Diary way back when it first came out, the unfamous Bridget years, before Helen Fielding could be Googled. I think I was 25. And I kept on reading the book, over and over, and was so grateful for a sequel and for the first movie, which I have seen–the FIRST movie–a gazzilion times. Thank you, Helen Fielding, for Bridget. When I was a Singleton, Bridget was a huge solace, especially after dates gone bad, like the time I started laughing hysterically in the middle of that one guy’s kiss and he was so insulted he left–oh, wait, that’s right–he married me. Anyway, here’s the verse:
And we’ll put on the turkey-curry buffet (you must pronounce it Brit-style: boo-faye–in fact, try singing the entire verse with a British accent) when she comes (I say!), yes we’ll put on the turkey-curry buffet when she comes, (well, I say!), oh we’ll put on the turkey-curry buffet, why we’ll put on the turkey-curry buffet, oi! put on the turkey-curry buffet when she comes (I say, toot toot, whoa bess, hi babe……)
The next verse is for my husband, the vegetarian, and I think aptly follows Bridget’s verse:
And we’ll also offer Vegan fare when she comes (tofu!), yes we’ll also offer Vegan fare when she comes (tempeh!), yes we’ll also offer Vegan fare, man we’ll also offer Vegan fare, yeah we’ll also offer Vegan fare when she comes (quinoa, I say, toot,toot, whoa bess, hi babe…….)
Then it’s time to work off some of that food (I know, I know–I skipped the chicken & dumplings verse–but turkey-curry and vegan fare go so well together and everybody does chicken–at 3am chicken is, frankly, booooring):
And we’ll all do the hustle when she comes (Barry White!), yes we’ll all do the hustle when she comes (boogie nights!), yes we’ll all do the hustle, oh we’ll get in a line and hustle, yes we’ll all boogie-woogie-booty hustle when she comes (oooh yeah, quinoa, I say, toot toot, whoa bess, hi babe…….)
This verse just plain makes sense:
And we won’t be talking politics when she comes (Hillary, darn!), no we won’t be talking politics when she comes (Bill is bummed!), no we won’t be talkin’ politics, won’t be talkin’ dodo politics, no we won’t be talkin’ politics when she comes (Chelsea’s an adult now!, ooooh yeah, quinoa!, I say, toot-toot, whoa bess, hi babe……)
And in between verses or as I’m trying to remember what comes after quinoa! or toot toot! I fill in with a little babble:
oh here she comes, buh-buh, comin’ right along, buh-buh, and she is hungry, boh-buh, and here she comes, buh-buh, comin’ runnin’ like a bug, buh-buh, that’s right a bug, buh-buh, oh here she comes, buh-buh, he wants the boob, buh-buh, quick-whip-out-the boob, buh-buh, now the other boob, buh-buh, give him the boo-ooo-oob, the booooooob, hi babe, whoa bess, tofu!, etc.