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A great magazine cover for the start of Prohibition.
This little angle does not seem particularly happy with his camel pull toy. Ev'ry day'll be Sunday when the town goes dry
A favorite of mine, sung by Edward Meeker.

I found this link to the song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tovPK6awq0Y
Read the lyrics and sing along if you like.

Ev'ry day'll be Sunday when the town goes dry

Mister Prohibition says John Barleycorn must go
He must fly off with Old Crow and the other brands we know
Old John has been a champion years beyond a doubt
But now it looks as if they count him out
Soon cloves and Sen-Sen will be out of date
When prohibition comes, they get the gate
Good-bye Hunter, so long Scotch, farewell Haig and Haig
Oh my darling old frappe, they will soon take you away
At the table d'hote with Lola, they will serve us Coca Cola
No more saying "Let me buy", no more coming thru the Rye
Old Manhattan and Martini have received the big subpoene
Every day'll be Sunday when the town goes dry

When the town goes dry a woman can't drive you to drink
If she does just stop and think, she will drive you to the sink
Rich old men and women who have Champagne on the brain
Will have it with the accent on the pain
When prohibition knocks upon our door, old Mister Bromo Seltzer will be sore
Good-bye Hunter, so long Scotch, farewell Haig and Haig
Oh my little glass of brew, they are handing it to you
No more will you see those slackers, flirting with the cheese and crackers
No more saying "Just one more", no more nightcap, no side door
Then the hat you wear on Sunday, won't be to small for you Monday
Every day'll be Sunday when the town goes dry

Can you picture some big husky with a pick and spade
When its ninety in the shade, drinking warm red lemonade
Many Bourbon tossers will enlist and join the ranks, then every army will be full of tanks
Then rubbers and umbrellas won't be high, they won't be needed when the town is dry
Good-bye Hunter, so long Scotch, farewell Haig and Haig
Oh my little Slow Gin Fizz, you are going out of biz
Every little Broadway's daughter will be sipping soda water
No more saying "Fill the pale", no more feet up on the rail
You can bet that we will grieve-oh, when we have to gargle Bevo
Every day'll be Sunday when the town goes dry


Yet another take on His Master's Voice... James.

Even we Brits recorded a prohibition song. Listen to "Simon the bootlegger" sung by Messrs Flotsam and Jetsam :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJLj7ysvfdk

What a truly wonderful double act they were and certainly the precursors of Flanders and Swann. McEachern's voice is liquid gold.

Nice addition.

Simon of the USA is rather frank of his racketeering.
Is there more depth to the song in knowing who Simon's father is?

James.

Roaring20s wrote:Nice addition.

Simon of the USA is rather frank of his racketeering.
Is there more depth to the song in knowing who Simon's father is?

James.

Yes. The song is based on the Victorian ballad "Simon the cellarer" which was extensively recorded, the most notable versions being by Sir Charles Santley and his pupil Peter Dawson.

To obtain the full meaning, listen to it first (easily found on YouTube) and then follow it with "Simon the bootlegger".

Roger.

emgcr wrote:What a truly wonderful double act they were and certainly the precursors of Flanders and Swann. McEachern's voice is liquid gold.

Good morning Graham.

If you don't already have this record I will bring it next time we meet. It should sound well on the Xb oversize.

Roger.

There are two excellent CD compilations of Flotsam and Jetsam on Vocalion CDEA6144 and CDEA6173, the latter including "Simon the bootlegger".

The duo never actually recorded for Vocalion. The originals are all on Columbia dating from 1927 to 1940. Mr Jetsam (Malcolm McEachern) did however record classical repertoire for Vocalion before transferring to Columbia.

Ah, it's based on a song of drink.
Perspective added.
"And all the year 'round there is brewing of ale"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M52pn1_7SDk

SIMON, THE CELLARER

Old Simon, the cellarer, keeps a rare store
Of Malmsey and Malvoisie,
And Cyprus, and who can say how many more?
For a chary old soul is he,
A chary old soul is he.
Of Sack and Canary he never doth fail.
And all the year 'round there is brewing of ale;
Yet he never aileth, he quaintly doth say,
While he keeps to his sober six flagons a day.
But, oh! oh! oh! his nose doth show
Bow oft the Black Jack to his lips doth go;
But, oh! oh! oh! his nose doth show
How oft the Black Jack to his lips doth go.

Dame Margery sits In her own still room,
A matron sage is she;
From thence oft, at Curfew, is wafted a fume,
She says it is Rosemarie,
She says it is Rosemarie.
But there's a small cupboard behind the back stair,
And the maids say they often see Margery there;
Now Margery says that she grows very old,
And must take a something to keep out the cold.
But, oh! oh! oh! old Simon doth know
Where many a flask of his best doth go;
But, oh! oh! oh! old Simon doth know
Where many a flask of his best doth go.

Old Simon reclines in his high-backed chair,
And oft talks about taking a wife;
And Margery is often heard to declare,
She ought to be settled in life!
She ought to be settled in life!
But Margery has (so the maids say) a tongue,
And she's not very handsome and not very young;
So somehow it ends with a shake of the head,
And Simon he brews him a tankard instead.
While, oh! oh! oh! he will chuckle and crow.
What! marry old Margerv? no! no! no!
While, oh! oh! oh! he will chuckle and crow.
What! marry old Margery no! no! no'

James.