Come Guess Me This Riddle - Paddy's Panacea
The Basic Impetus
An a-capela version of a song known by various titles, but in this case, "The Humours of Whiskey" as sung by Hozier was pushed to me one night by the Facebook algorithm. It made a deep impression, and I decided I wanted to learn the tune on violin. This sent me down a long and twisting rabbit hole.
Here is a link to the Hozier version - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQ-UItNBoMw .
This is a traditional tune, and so there are many sheet music versions out there (e.g., in different keys and different rhythms), none of which I like as much as the Hozier version. The Hozier Transcription is in the key of D – having a C♯ and F♯.
But Hozier's gift is just one verse. I wanted to know the full song.
If you can't get this book and tapes (from Irish Books and Media, Minneapolis, or your local Irish import store) then I could possibly write out some words. Most words I've seen are the same except for one word. Some, Andy Stewart for example, sing 'poiti/n', where the original and Tom L have 'whiskey' or in the first verse 'whiskeen'. But then Tom L always ended his lines and many other words by closing his mouth to an 'n' sound …."
When looking at the various full lyrics of the song findable in the interweb, such as in the notes for this YouTube presentation - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIb4X1jUIlU, it became clear this is a song that has drifted around a bit in its interpretation.The archive.org website proved to be the Holy Grail for the origin of the lyrics, but it is a little frustrating. The website has images of many works available, but its OCR (optical character recognition) text is not the greatest. For example, what is captured as "Paddy's Panacea" in the table of contents for a book, is captured as "Baddy's Panacea" in the body of the book. One needs to be clever, and search for presumed-present text in various ways to work around this artifact.
The first hit in archive.org came from a search on "617 Irish Songs and Ballads" which landed on a document in the archive titled [OCR mistakes corrected] "THE MASTER BOOK of AMERICAN FOLK SONG / An Encyclopedia of the Traditional Music and Folk Songs of the United States / History, Music and Words to 1,900 Songs with Song-Finder Index containing more than 17,000 cross-referenced titles and information. / Compiled, Written & Edited By RILEY SHEPARD"
A problem in the images captured in the Archive of the Master Book is many page images have been dropped, so the image file jumps from page 9 to page 157. However, the OCR text file has all the pages, and therein is the following (again with my corrections to the OCR).
"WEHMAN (CS): -Wehman's COLLECTION OF SONGS (Numbered series of pocket-size books, published quarterly during 1880s and 1890s). New York. See next 3 listings.
WEHMAN (GOTS): -Wehman Brothers, GOOD OLD-TIME SONGS. (Numbered series: Nos. 1, 2, 3 & 4). New York, 1910, 1912, 1914, 1916.
WEHMAN (ISB): -Wehman's IRISH SONG BOOK (Nos. 1, 2 & 3). New York, 1887, 1891, 1907. Re-prints: New York, 1909, 1937.
WEHMAN (617): -Wehman Brothers, 617 IRISH SONGS AND BALLADS. New York, 1938."
The likely-original lyrics are present in an entry in the Archive for "Old-time songs and ballads of Ireland" (https://archive.org/details/oldtimesongsball00ocon/page/154/mode/2up) but it is rather yellowed. The lyrics are also in a very nice white scan of "Irish com-all-ye's : a repository of ancient Irish songs and ballads--comprising patriotic, descriptive, historical and humorous gems, characteristic of the Irish race" by Manus O'Conor, 1901, from the Popular Publishing Co., 335 Broadway, New York. It seems to my eyes the lyrics are a match, and even fall on the same page numbers with the same other songs surrounding. Which leads me to think, of course, the two books are from the same printing plates, just retitled etc., for marketing.
Here are the images of the lyrics as presented in Irish Com-All-Ye's:
PADDY'S PANACEA.
- 1
- Let your quacks in newspapers Be cutting their capers,
- 'Bout curing the vapors, the scurvy, or gout,
- Wid their powders and potions, Their balsams and lotions,
- Och hone! in their notions they're mightily out.
- Would you know the true physic To bother the phthisic,
- And pitch to the devil cramp, colic, and spleen?
- You'll find it, I think, If you take a big drink,
- With your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen.
- Then stick to the cratur, The best thing in natur.
- For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.
- Och! whack! botheration! No dose in the nation
- Can give consolation like whisky, my boys!
- 2
- Oh, no liquid cometic For lovers athletic
- Or ladies pathetic can give such a bloom;
- And for sweets, by the pow'rs, A whole garden of tlow'rs
- Never gave their own bow'rs such a darling perfume.
- Then the liquor so rare, If you're wishing to share,
- To be turning your hair when it's grizzled or red;
- Sure the sod has the merit To make the true spirit
- So strong it'll turn both your hair and your head.
- Then stick to the cratur, The best thing in natur,
- For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.
- Oh! since 'tis perfection, No doctor's direction
- Can guard the complexion like whisky, my boys!
- 3
- Whilst a child in the cradle, My nurse wid a ladle
- Was filling my mouth wid an ocean of pap,
- When a drop from the bottle Slipp'd into my throttle,
- I caper'd and wriggled clane out of her lap.
- On the floor I lay sprawling, And kicking and bawling,
- Till father and mother were both to the fore.
- All sobbing and sighing, Conceived I was dying,
- But soon found I only was screeching for more.
- Then stick to the cratur, The best thing in natur
- For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.
- Oh, whack, how they'd chuckle If babes in their truckle
- They only could suckle wid whisky, my boys!
- 4
- Thro' my youthful progression To years of discretion
- My childhood's impression still clung to my mind;
- For at school or at college The bolus of knowledge
- I never could gulp till wid whisky combined.
- And as older I'm growing, Time's ever bestowing
- On Erin's potation a flavor so fine.
- That howe'er they may lecture 'Bout Jove and his nectar.
- Itself is the only true liquor divine.
- Then stick to the cratur, The best thing in natur
- For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.
- Oh, whack! 'tis delighting For courting or fighting
- There's nought so exciting as whisky, my boys!
- 5
- Let philosophers dabble In science, and babble
- 'Bout Oxygin, Hydrogin, Nitrogin's fame;
- For their gin, to my thinking, Is not worth the drinking;
- Their labor's all lost, and their learning a drame.
- They may prate by the score Of their elements four.
- That all things earth, air, fire, and water must be;
- For their rules I don't care, For in Ireland, I'll swear,
- By St. Pat there's a fifth, and that's whisky, machree!
- Then stick to the cratur, The best thing in natur
- For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.
- Och! whack! art and science Myself bids defiance
- To yield in appliance to whisky, my boys!
- 6
- Come guess me this riddle — What bates pipe and fiddle?
- What's stronger than mustard and milder than crame?
- What best wets your whistle? What's clearer than crystal.
- And sweeter than honey, and stronger than stame?
- What'll make the dumb talk? What'll make the lame walk?
- What's th' Elixir of Life and Philosopher's Stone?
- And what help'd Mr. Brunel To dig the Thames Tunnel?
- Sure wasn't it the spirit of nate Innishowen !
- Then stick to the cratur. The best thing in natur
- For sinking your sorrows and raising your joys.
- Oh! whack! I'd not wonder If lightning and thunder
- Was made from the plunder of whisky, my boys!
Some lovely things to note in theses lyrics.
Whoever captured the lyrics also tried to capture some of the accent (I am doubtful these were the accepted spellings of the day), and so we get 'wid' for 'with', 'crame' for 'cream', 'bates' for 'beats', and others.But beware - not all of the strange words are indicating a pronunciation variant.
In the first verse we get 'To bother the phthisic'. The 'phthisic' often gets pushed to 'pathetic' is some of the modern renderings of the song, but it is actually an old word meaning somone suffering from tuberculosis, or other general wasting disease of the lungs.
The mis-spelling in verse 5 of Oxygin, Hydrogin, and Nitrogin seems to be a deliberate pun on the alcohol - gin.
Many modern interpretations also mess too much with verse 3, and push 'pap' to other places such as something about 'pep' -- "As a child in my cradle the nurse from her ladle / Was swillin' her mouth with a notion of "Pep'' / When a drop from her bottle fell into me throttle / I capered and scrambled right out of her lap". Pap is a wonderful word that started out meaning a bland soft or semi-liquid food such as suitable for babies or invalids, and which now is more often used to describe reading matter or entertainment that is worthless or trivial.
Of course, a corner stone in this song is 'cratur', which was a new usage to me. Cratur is related to 'creature' and has an alternate spelling of 'craythur', and also means/implies whiskey. "Now Tim had a sort o' the tipplin' way With a love of the liquor poor Tim was born And to help him on with his work each day He'd a drop of the craythur ev'ry morn."The origins of craythur date back to large Iron Age bowls from which alcohol was served. It is cognate to the ancient Greek Κρατερ.The Irish/Scottish usage is a holdover of what used to be a general usage in English. 'Creature'/'Craythur' in reference to comforting things was (according to the Oxford English Dictionary) a reference to the Bible verse 1 Timothy 4:4, "every creature of God is good". It was used to refer to comforting things like hot food and strong drink, which are considered to be creations of God and therefore good things to be prized and not condemned. This is the origin of the modern term "creature comfort".
Keeping Score
For Mr. Eric Crimmins, in honor of his 30 years of excellence in music education.Commissioned by Eric Clauder & the Scripps Middle School Bands, Lake Orion, Michigan.This setting of two traditional Irish folksongs includes "The Moorlough Shore," and "The Humours of Whiskey." 'The Moorlough Shore' is a ballad recounting the story of a young man who praises the beauties of the countryside and the girl he has fallen in love with. She refuses his advances on the ground that she already loves a sailor, and tells him that she will wait for her true love for seven years. In sorrow, the boy leaves his childhood home and sails away, pining for the girl he loves that lives by the Moorlough Shore.
As with many folk songs, 'The Humours of Whiskey' (aka Paddy’s Panacea) offers a glimpse into the cultural heritage and traditions of the Irish people. The text first appears in ‘The Emerald Isle Song Book’ (Dublin 1899) where it is credited to Joseph Lunn, and the tune given is ‘In Ireland So Frisky’. The lyrics depict the joys and sorrows associated with this beloved beverage, with the term “humours” referring to different moods or states of mind, indicating that whiskey can both uplift and bring people down. By personifying the drink, it allows listeners to relate to the conflicting emotions often experienced when indulging in such spirits, acknowledges the joy and camaraderie that can be found in a pub setting, and alludes to the potential pitfalls and consequences of excessive drinking. With its lively tempo and spirited energy, 'The Humours of Whiskey' invites the audience to join in the merriment and embrace the rich Irish cultural heritage.
The Same Old Tune
1.
From great Londonderry to London, so merry,
My own natty self in a waggon did ride;In London so frisky, folks ride in a whisky,
At Connaught they carry their whisky inside.
I jump'd from the waggon, and saw a Green Dragon,
I spy'd a Blue Boar when I turn'd to the south;
At the Swan with two Throttles I tippled two bottles,
And bother'd the beef at the Bull and the Mouth.
Ah ! Paddy, my honey ! look after your money,
'Tis all botheration from bottom to topSing didderoo daisy, my jewel be aisy, This London, agrah ! is the devil's own shop.
2.
The great city wax work was all a mere tax work,
A plan to bamboozle me out of my pelf;
Says I, " Mrs. Salmon, be off with your gammon, Your figures are no more alive than yourself!"
I ax'd an old quaker the way to Long Acre,
With thee and with thou he so bother'd my brain,
After fifty long sallies,through lanes and blind alleys,
I found myself trotting in Rosemary-lane.
Ah ! Paddy, &c.
3.
At night, O, how silly ! along Piccadilly I wander'd, when up comes a beautiful dame ;
" Huzza !" says the lady, " how do you do, Paddy ?"
Says I, " Pretty well, ma'am, I hope you're the same."
A great hulking fellow, who held her umbrella,
Then gave me a terrible thump on the nob ;
She ran away squalling; I "Watch, watch!" was bawling,-- The devil a watch was there left in my fob.
Ah ! Paddy, &c.
----
IN IRELAND SO FRISKY. To the foregoing Tune. In Ireland so frisky, with sweet girls and whisky. We managed to keep care and sorrow aloof, Our whirligig revels made all the blue devils Creep out with the smoke thro' a hole in the roof.
But well I remember one foggy November, My mother cried, Go make your fortune, my lad. Go bother the ninnies clean out of their guineas ; Away then I scamper'd from Ballinafad. Then to seek for promotion, I walk'd the wide ocean, Was shipwreck'd and murder'd,and sold for a slave, Over mountains and rivers was pelted to shivers. And met on this land with a watery grave. But now Blr. Jew-man has made me a new man. And whisky and Mammora make my heart glad, To the sweet-flowing LiiFey I'm off in a jiffey, With a whack for ould Ireland and Ballinafad. From this cursed station to that blessed nation. Again Mr. Roony shall visit your shore. Where I'll flourish so gaily, my sprig of shiJelah, Long life to old Nadab of great Mogadore. O then all my cousins will run out by dozens, And out too will hobble old mammy and dad, At dinner they'll treat us with mealy paraties, And whisky distill'd at sweet Ballinafad.
So the alleged base tune appears to be Paddy O'Carrol
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