(with apologies to Jimi Hendrix, Bruce Springsteen, Manfred Mann and the Earth Band, Seals and Crofts, Franz Xaver Gruber, Elton John, John Fogerty and Creedence Clearwater Revival, Pharrell Williams, Hootie and the Blowfish, Fanny J. Crosby, Bob Dylan, and Anonymous.
Also, Round John Virgin’s loathsome attitudes toward the LGBT community do not even remotely reflect the views of the author. Alas, for the jokes about hearing impairment I have no recourse but to plead fidelity to the source material.)
Ye high lamps, ye low lamps,
Ye bluish hallowgenes,
Have you, miss, heard the story
Of Lady Mondegreen?
If you have heard her story,
You’ve prob’ly heard it wrong.
If you have not, don’t worry;
Feel free to sing along.
She loved the Earl of Moray,
‘E was a ruddy ‘eel.
She said it was electric,
The way ’e made her feel,
But still, she listened poorly
And never asked him why
When he would say, “Excuse me
While I kiss this guy.”
In the blinding light of midnight,
When ladies keep their hearts
Wrapped up like products they employ
To lave their nether parts,
The Earl and Lady Mondegreen
Were strolling in the pines.
A summer breeze was blowing
‘Twixt the jazzmen and the mimes.
The wrathful Round John Virgin
Rode out that silent night,
Burning all the trees up where he rode,
A rocket-man in flight.
Said John, “My Lady Mondegreen,
It cut me like a knife
When you announced that I would find
A fat man on my wife.”
Said she, “I ne’er said aught about
A fat banana knight
But only tried to tell you there’s
A bathroom on the right–
“A place where you can crap alone,
A room without a roof,
To crap alone if you should feel
That happiness is truth.”
Said John, “I want to love you–
The bear says I can’t,
This cross-eyed brute who walks with you
But lays with other men.”
John Virgin drew his rapier
And said, “En garde, you fool.”
Lady Mondegreen said, “Nay,
That is no garden tool,
“And why, sir, do you brandish it
When ladies are about?”
“You brand of WHAT?” Round John was heard
To furiously shout.
And gladly, then, the cross-eyed bear
Stepped up to her defense.
The ants were blowing in the wind,
The ants, they were, my friends.
And Round John Virgin on that night
Was slaughtered by the bear
But not before he’d sliced in half
The Earl of Moray’s ear.
I understand the tale I tell
May sound a little queer,
But every word was verified
By someone who was there.
Ye high lambs, ye low lambs,
Ye sheep of average height,
Did wool get in your ears afore
The tale I told tonight?