Wooden Doll, a hit for Elvis Presley, was originally the German song Muss i' Denn, of course. Elvis was in the army at that time and stationed in Germany, and in the evenings liked nothing better than to don his lederhosen and sink a few steins with the frauleins in the Hofbrauhaus.
Wooden Doll, McTag? Never heard that one by Presley. Now Wooden Heart by Mr. Teeth, Engelbert Humperdinck, that rings a bell.
Ah yes, a "senior moment" I fear, Wooden Heart of course it was, thank you Letty. But Humperdinck? I wonder. There is surely a connection between wooden dolls and Haensel and Gretel here, but what? And what about the Hofbrauhaus?
Hofbrauhaus is probably exactly what it sounds like, the head brewery. In November I was fortunate enough to visit the Hofbrauhaus of a worthy Irish company called Guinness.
Guiness book of records is something weird to me. Maybe it reflects the uselessness of our lives.
Clary wrote:Hofbrauhaus is probably exactly what it sounds like, the head brewery. In November I was fortunate enough to visit the Hofbrauhaus of a worthy Irish company called Guinness.
Here's an interesting thing: at least I think so.
"Hof" means "court" in German, and it can mean a) courtyard or b) royal company, just as in English.
Also, "hoeflich" means "polite", just as in English, "courtly" means polite.
That's it. I think it quite coincidental, and curious.
from "lives"
Lives there a man with heart so faint, who cannot say "this is my own, my native land"? I think there does, and this is another example of a quotation I have got wrong.
This is my own my native land
Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go mark him well,
For him no Minstrel raptures swell,
High through his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim,
Despite those titles, power and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung
Unwept, unhonoured and unsung
By Sir Walter Scott
Wrong it wasn't, but the sentiment doesn't move me much. But then, I can get away with it, being only a woman.
WOMAN AND LOVE :To my feelings, love is formed when attraction, wish and submission to action combine together in human. When we find something attractive in any look, the enchantment comes from within, that leads to our wish of any form that leads to submission. We love one type from many flowers when we are attracted to that one among many types of flowers, from inside we are tempted so we wish, that wish makes to submit to take action to appreciate, pluck or feel by touch or smell, is love... (to be pursued).
Tu causes, tu causes, c'est tout ce que tu sais faire - dit Laverdure
you know that this is supposed to be a succinct conversation, 2 sentences.....
2 sentences, that's was said when Kicky started this thread but I never looked at the rules. That was all blue potatoes to me!
Ah, les pommes de terre bleu. Qu' ils me ravie. Ou sont les neiges d'antan? Geronimo!
J'Héraut, nie mots, étranges! Les neiges d'antan sont , malheureusement, enterrées à Sète!
Sept Nains, Blanche Neige had at her beck and call. Does
Posh spice have David at her Beckham call?
Ca' the ewes tae the knowes
Ca' them whaur the heather grows
Ca' them whaur the burnie rows
My bonnie dearie
Dearie, please desist with the twee Scottisisms, altogether too toe-curling, all those words ending in -ie. Nobody writes in dialect any more.
More of this could, probably, make a word-freak of myself. So let's try plain talk.
Talk radio has been a success story of recent years: some said that TV was going to be the death of radio, but have been proved wrong.
(prize to Clary, one pair of galluses, if she can tell me what a buttery rowie is, and where even today one may be boughtied, er, purchased.)
