Plundering Lyrics For Fun And Profit

I was attempting to sell some not-relevant-to-me-any-more music scores the other month, to try and get a little monetary help towards my move back across the sea. It was mostly unsuccessful, and to be honest, it felt a tad degrading, but it did set my writing chops gnashing for a little while...

Chewing on appropriated song tunes.

Swallowing inspiration.

Digesting genius.

Spitting out... urgh, yeah, I may have taken this analogy a little far.

Ira Gershwin or Oscar Hammerstein I'm not, but it was fun playing with their lyric forms.

Back-story: I changed faches a few years ago from soprano to mezzo-soprano and partly because of this change I found that my pile of music was growing larger, fast, and once I'd made the decision I was moving, I also made the decision to pare down the amount of music I was going to lug back with me. So, I said bye-bye to a lot of higher soprano rep that I knew I wouldn't be singing again, plus a few scores for which I had duplicates. Mozart, lots of Mozart from Exsultate, jubilate, to albums of concert arias; Scarlatti arias for soprano; a pile of Bach - eighteen or so different cantatas; Mahler's Fourth Symphony for soprano and orchestra; a Gluck opera; one by Rameau; and another by Handel; Schubert songs for high voice; and much more.

But I found just listing them and adding photos on facebook (because as much as people moan about social networks, it's a handy thing for getting the word out) was not sufficient to get garner enough interest, so I started adding little rhymes. Tweaking lyrics from well-known songs and show-tunes to get a bit more attention.

I admit to spending a lot of time working on these, more than necessary for mere facebook updates, but because I thoroughly enjoyed trying to keep the rhyming form, rhythm, and style of each I tried to copy, I kept them, and have collected them here.

(from Oliver! - to the tune of Who Will Buy)  I started out with something simple. My original facbook post was going to read, simply, who will buy my scores, and in the very act of typing this out I gave myself an earworm. And, because I like to share, I decided to share the earworm with some scrambled text. You're welcome.

Who will buy This wonderful music?
Such a choice You never did see!
Who will buy Some wonderful music
And maybe a cantata or three?

And things escalated from there...

(from The Sound of Music - to the tune of My Favourite Things)

Mozart, and Handel, and Joh'n Seb's Cantatas, 
Mahler, and Schubert, will please your grey matter.
Gluck, some more Mozart, and Ludwig van B,
These are the gems that fit you to T!


(from Queen's ‛Bohemian Rhapsody' - I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me)

I have a few scores
From a small Library.
I have a few scores
Everybody come and see!
Beethoven, Mozart and some JSB!


(from The Beatles ‛Hey Jude')

Hey scores, don't make me sad, 
Take my Mozart, and some Beethoven!
Remember to have a look at the Bach, 
There are a good few, so how ‛bout a dozen...?! 
(dozen, dozen, dozen LAAH LA LA LALALA LAAH...


(From the Christmas carol ‛Jingle Bells')

Selling all the scores, have a look what's on display!
Bach cantatas all; Gorgeous Mozart! Yay!
Bells in Mahler ring; Handel's a delight!
Some new; some loved, so cheap it's almost robb'ry type: daylight!

(from High Society - to the tune of Who Wants To Be a Millionaire)

Who wants to have some cut-price airs? You do!
Have gorgeous Gluck and some to spare? You do!
Who needs the wonder of a Mozart room-mate?
Some gorgeous cantates? Joh'n Seb you can't hate!
Who needs Handel to keep you sane? You do!
Sing Schubert's songs; more Bach again? You do!
Who wants to have some jolly bargains? You do!
You do! ‛Cos all you need is mu-(sic)... 
(ach, so close...)

(from Top Hat - to the tune of Top Hat, White Tie, And Tails)

I'm sellin' some good music, 
Each of them a fine pick;
They tell some pretty tales!
I'm sayin' ‛bye to Joh'n Seb, 
Over the World Wide Web;
Come see what's for sale!

(from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes - to the tune of Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend)

A score on the shelf can be quite sentimental,
And Handel is a girl's best friend!
Some Gluck kept myself cannot pay the rental
On a transit van going home on the autobahn!

Schubert songs delight day-long, 
And we all dream of Bach in the end!

But songs or cantatas,
These gems are what matter!
Mahler! (Mahler!) Beethoven! (Beethoven!)
(Come buy my music!)
Mozart is a girl's best friend!

and lastly, from West Side Story - to the tune of I Feel Pretty)

I have Handel, check the sample!
I have Schubert, Beethoven, and Bach!
Here's your last chance
To add beauties to your music stack!
I have lieder, and cantatas
I have music you'll simply adore,
Have a look
At some pretty wonderful scores!

The label for the post says ‛poetry' for which I have to beg your indulgence. This post doesn't really fit in with much else here, and real poetry it ain't. Still, forgive me this once while I splurge my second-rate scribblings over this tiny corner of the interwebs!

One Garden To Rule Them All

To complete my trifecta of garden walk posts, we come to Keukenhof, the mother of all spring gardens! 

The last time (actually, also the first time) I visited this mecca of flowering bulbs was three years ago to the day I visited (May 1st) during the very late Spring of '13. So late, in fact, that the official website of the Keukenhof issued a release stating that due to adverse weather conditions [ie no sun for months], much of the garden was still to flower. (Mind you, the daffodils were out in full force by the time I was there, but many of the tulips were still hiding in their green bath robes, running late for the show.)  

This year Spring had dressed herself early and the story was vastly different...

It's relatively easy to travel to Keukenhof from The Hague by public transport, although it does take some time. The journey takes you from Den Haag Centraal Station to Leiden Centraal by train, then you take the dedicated bus service from Leiden right through to the gates of the garden. The busses leave every fifteen minutes or so, which is just as well, because you'll find the waiting line to be many, MANY people long; on a sunny weekend day, you might have to wait at an hour in line before you'll get near the front of the queue!

The bus journey itself is about half an hour, and I'd recommend buying all the tickets online beforehand (you can get one that includes the travel and entrance cost) as it will save a lot of time queuing to get in, although there are ticket booths at the front gates for those who want to do it the old-fashioned way!

You'll guess from my description of the long bus queue that there will probably be a few folk in the actual gardens joining you for your visit. Yeah, a few thousand... A heady mix of humanity and Mother Nature. It goes without saying that you'll be lucky to capture a photo without at least a few dozen people in the background, foreground, all over the ground, but to be honest, I can't imagine the place without a generous sprinkling of homo sapiens. It blooms therefore humans, perhaps!

Of course, you do have the option of folk-free photos if you fancy some close-ups...

As well as the acres of sculpted tulip beds, there are look-out points to fight your way through to that give amazing views over the surrounding tulip fields, and for your effort in gently elbowing your way though the hoards to the front, there's a windmill to admire when you turn back.

Plus, there's a speciality garden every year, and I was delighted to find out that the theme this year was Delfts Blauw (Delft Blue). Any of you who know me at all will understand just how much this delighted me!!

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to try and prise one of these beauties off the wall, hide it under my coat, and hot-foot it out of there!

And not content with the outdoor gardens, there are buildings full of everything from flower markets to a hot-house of orchids. These, are you can imagine, were also chock-full of people, making it difficult to get close enough to admire many of the show-stopping blooms, but I gave it a good try:

And because I took literally hundreds of photos, I'm going to finish this post with a few more that I've managed to whittle down from the pile. 

If you're ever in the Netherlands during mid-March to mid-May, I highly recommend a day out to see this astonishing show of spring beauty for yourself!

I'm So Fancy

My timing was a little off this year to catch the azaleas and rhododendrons at their best in the Clingendael Estate, mostly, well, in part to spending more time indoors communing with cardboard, rather than outside doing the same with nature.

At their flowering peak, azaleas and rhoddies wallpaper the alleys and pathways of the park with swathes of purple, pink, red, yellow, white and orange, covering acres of woodland in glorious technicolour and intoxicating scent. Actually, the scents by this time were mostly the final few honeysuckle blooming amongst the azaleas, but the combination was heavenly!

I'm going to miss this place, and I'm going to miss the great walk to get there... about fifty minutes from my flat to the front gates, plus the acres of grounds, and miles of paths both within the main estate and the surrounding wilder woodlands in which you can wander for hours, building up an impressive step count whilst being wooed by Mother Nature.

I'll be back in very late Autumn, though, and I've already promised myself a visit during my favourite time of year, when the leaves have turned, and the black tree boughs are beginning to show their forms against the sky. But until then I'm happy to revel in the flowers!

A Japanese Garden Of Delights

I've been remiss in writing about my recent walks, for which I apologise. Ok, I have the excuse that my life is currently as organised as my flat (I'm moving in a few weeks, and hoo-boy, boxes everywhere) but even I'll admit it's a pretty flimsy one, so shall try and gain your weakened trust by going BLAH over a few park posts! The first of which is about my visit to the Japanese Garden in the Clingendael Estate last month...

Oh my, but it's astonishingly beautiful when you can catch it in full bloom. Even more beautiful if you go early in the morning to avoid people littering the place with their, well, with themselves!

This beautifully maintained garden is only open eight weeks of the year - six in late Spring, and two in the Autumn, and I really can't recommend visiting it enough. Although perhaps it's a good idea to choose a time when there are fewer people than trees...

... partly because you'll stand a better chance of creeping up on an unsuspecting heron if the place isn't continually being bombarded with the redundant noise of mobile phone fake camera clicks and whirrs... 

But they say a picture is worth a thousands words, so I am happy to pic-spam the rest of this post in lieu of, well, a few thousand extraneous words...