107
   

WA2K Radio is now on the air

 
 
bobsmythhawk
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 07:49 am
Hi Mctag. It sounds like you're describing a curlew.

Long-billed Curlew - Numenius americanus

Classification

Phylum: Chordata
Class: Aves
Order: Charadriiformes
Family: Scolopacidae
Genus: Numenius
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 07:50 am
McTag, it is a bird. Lots of bird imagery used in poetry including your bard.

Here, folks, the frogs toll the knell of parting day <smile>

(edited for one too many 'eres)
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 07:51 am
Er...no. It really is a bell.
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 08:10 am
Well, listeners. I went to the archives to locate the etymology of curfew and couldn't find what I wanted to be true. Ain't that always the way?

About the only concrete thing that I found was a reference to "covering the fire" and a tolling bell.
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 08:26 am
Letty wrote:
Well, listeners. I went to the archives to locate the etymology of curfew and couldn't find what I wanted to be true. Ain't that always the way?

About the only concrete thing that I found was a reference to "covering the fire" and a tolling bell.


I posted something on the previous page about that, check it out.

The fast-moving world of Radio A2K!
0 Replies
 
Francis
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 08:27 am
Letty wrote:
About the only concrete thing that I found was a reference to "covering the fire" and a tolling bell.


I'll go with that because :

"curfew - a regulation requiring that people leave the streets and remain at home
Etymology: Curfew orignates from the practice in medieval times to ring a bell at fixed time in the evening as an order to bank the hearths and prepare for sleep. Hence the original order was a call to couvre feu which is French for cover fire, which was corrupted into curfew."
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 08:37 am
bobsmythhawk wrote:
Hi Mctag. It sounds like you're describing a curlew.

Long-billed Curlew - Numenius americanus

Classification

Phylum: Chordata
Class: Aves
Order: Charadriiformes
Family: Scolopacidae
Genus: Numenius


A lot of web-searches give sites which are very USA-tropic.

There are plenty curlews in other parts, even in Britain, would you believe:

http://www.birdsofbritain.co.uk/bird-guide/curlew.htm

Curlew
An aura of wildness surrounds the curlew perhaps more than any other wader. Its calls epitomise the atmosphere of the lonely marshes and tideways where it is found.
Most memorable part of the curlew's repertoire is the beautiful bubbling trill which is specially related to courtship and may in fact be appreciated at all seasons.
A giant among waders, the curlew is unmistakable with long bill and legs. Flying the white rump is very noticeable, but there is no wing-bar.
A glance at a field guide will indicate the vast area occupied by breeding curlews. Range extends from this country east to the Urals and from Scandinavia and Russia in the north. This wide extent of habitats includes upland moors, grassy or boggy open areas in forests and damp grasslands and traditionally managed hayfields particularly in river valleys.
Directly after the nesting season the birds shift to marine coastal areas especially favouring mudflats and sands extensively exposed at low tide. Like most waders, at high water curlew form large roosts on either the highest saltings or on fields and marshes behind the sea walls. In some localities the birds move to nocturnal roosting spots at dusk, leaving again at dawn.
Curlew from Scotland spend autumn and winter on the British west coast and in Ireland. Populations from Scandinavia, the former Baltic States and north-west Russia head south-westwards towards this country. Others, remarkably, winter in Iceland and the Faroes. And yet others penetrate to the West African coast. Curlew are capable of migrating at remarkable altitudes even crossing the Himalayas at a height of 20,000 feet.
The annual Wetland Bird Survey published jointly by the British Trust for Ornithology, Wildfowl & Wetlands Trust, Royal Society for the Protection of Birds and the Joint Nature Conservation Committee is packed with fascinating information on our wildfowl and waders. Each of international importance for wintering curlew, the four localities holding largest numbers are Morecombe Bay, the Solway, the Wash and the Dee.
When visiting the Solway I marvelled at the thousands of nesting curlew massed at the edge of the incoming tide. When roosting the more dominant curlew tend to occupy the more sheltered areas within the assembly; birds at the front of flocks form closely packed 'walls' in high winds.
It was at Breydon during my earliest birding visits that I became familiar with parties of curlew. This estuary would never be the same without those haunting cries and the wonderful bubbling song.
.By Michael J Seago
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 08:38 am
Well, my goodness. There's our Francis back in Paris and with the accurate etymology:

curfew
c.1320, from Anglo-Fr. coeverfu (1285), from O.Fr. covrefeu, lit. "cover fire," from couvre, imper. of couvrir "to cover" + feu "fire." The medieval practice of ringing a bell at fixed time in the evening as an order to bank the hearths and prepare for sleep. The original purpose was to prevent conflagrations from untended fires. The modern extended sense of "periodic restriction of movement" had evolved by 1800s.

McTag, sorry I missed that contribution. Well, listeners, we do have a marvelous learning forum here as well as items of interest from all over.
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 09:56 am
"It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman, which gives the stern'st good-night." In Act 2, scene 2, Lady Macbeth waits anxiously for Macbeth to return from killing Duncan, the King of Scotland. The step that Macbeth is leaping over goes against the rules of nature, and when this happens, animals and weather erupt. The owl is a bellman because, according to superstition, the hoot of the owl portends death. He is fatal, perhaps because he senses death and horror. thus, when the owls screamed and the crickets cried, it symbolized evil and ominous doings.

And now, listeners, we are anxiously awaiting our McTag to sing us a song of blue birds over chalk cliffs. <smile> but in the interim:

Hoagy Carmichael and Johnny Mercer

Skylark
Have you anything to say to me
Won't you tell me where my love can be
Is there a meadow in the mist
Where someone's waiting to be kissed

Oh skylark
Have you seen a valley green with spring
Where my heart can go a-journeying
Over the shadows and the rain
To a blossom-covered lane

And in your lonely flight
Haven't you heard the music in the night
Wonderful music
Faint as a will o' the wisp
Crazy as a loon
Sad as a gypsy serenading the moon

Oh skylark
I don't know if you can find these things
But my heart is riding on your wings
So if you see them anywhere
Won't you lead me there
Oh skylark
Won't you lead me there.

Breathtakingly beautiful, listeners.
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 12:58 pm
Funnily enough, mentioning bluebirds and white cliffs, there was an item on the radio today about some Australian brides who came to Britain after the war, 600 of them on a ship, and the sound-track to the radio piece was by Vera Lynn (famous for singing the above song, the "Forces Sweetheart" as she was dubbed). The song was something along the lines of "When the lights come on again, all over the world".
She was a fine singer, if a bit raw, by the standards of the day. Hugely popular at one time in GB.
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 01:04 pm
oh, are we talking birds now

Rook
XTC

Rook, Rook Read from your book
Who murders who and where is the treasure hid?
Crow, Crow Spill all you know
Is that my name on the bell?
Rook, Rook Gaze in the brook
If there's a secret can I be part of it?
Crow, Crow Before I'll let go, say is that my name on the bell?
Soar up high, see the semaphore from the washing lines
Break the code of the whispering chimneys and traffic signs
Where's the message that's written under the base of clouds?
Plans eternal, I know you know, so don't blurt out loud
Rook, Rook By hook or by crook
I'll make you tell me what this whole thing's about!
Crow, Crow Why can't you show
If that's my name on the bell?
On the wings of night, I fly too, above field and stream
My head bursting with knowledge 'till I wake from the dream
If I die and I find that I had a soul inside
Promise me that you'll take it up on its final ride
Rook, Rook Gaze in the brook
If there's a secret can I be part of it?
Crow, Crow Before I'll let go, say is that my name on the bell?
Is that my name on the bell?
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 01:09 pm
McTag, There were so many, many songs that were a product of WWII. I suspect that music was one of the most effective propaganda forms of all the wars. The last war declared by congress was that war and with it, the power of the presidency has shifted the balance of power.

In the Humanities class that I taught, there was always a segment devoted to the influence of music during war time.

Here's an interesting item:


The top 25 most expensive cities worldwide:
1. Tokyo
2. Osaka
3. London
4. Moscow
5. Seoul
6. Geneva
7. Zurich
8. Copenhagen
9. Hong Kong
10. Oslo
11. Milan
12. Paris
13. New York City
14. Dublin
15. St. Petersburg
16. Vienna
17. Rome
18. Stockholm
19. Beijing
20. Sydney
21. Helsinki
22. Douala
23. Istanbul
24. Amsterdam and Budapest (tie)
Source: Mercer Human Resource Consulting
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 01:17 pm
dj, I love it. How many different names there are for black birds.

Here's one for our resident Scot:

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies makin' a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
"Where sall we gang an' dine the day?"

"In ahint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
An' naebody kens that he lies there
But his hawk, his hound an' his lady fair.

"His hound is to the huntin's gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild fown hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
Sae we may mak our denner sweet.

"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
An' I'll pike oot his bonny blue een,
Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.

"Mony a ane for him maks mane,
But nane shall ken where he is gane;
Ower his white banes when they are bare
The wind sall blaw for evermair".
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 01:29 pm
Here's a WWII song that I didn't know about, listeners:


Song lyrics as reprinted in Bob Cornfield (ed.), Songs of Johnny Cash, New York, NY, 1970, pp. 108-109.
© Edward B. Marks Music Corporation



Gather round me, people, there's a story I would tell,
About a brave young Indian you should remember well;
From the land of the Pima Indians, a proud and noble band,
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the waters grew Ira's people's crops,
Till the white man stole their water rights and their sparklin' water stopped.
Now Ira's folks grew hungry, and their farms grew crops of weeds.
When war came, Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
CHORUS: Call him drunken Ira Hayes --
He won't answer anymore,
Not the whiskey-drinkin' Indian,
Not the Marine who went to war.

Well, they battled up Iwo Jima hill -- two hundred and fifty men,
But only twenty-seven lived -- to walk back down again;
When the fight was over -- and Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high was the Indian -- Ira Hayes.

Ira Hayes returned a hero -- celebrated through the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored -- everybody shook his hand;
But he was just a Pima Indian -- no water, no home, no chance;
At home nobody cared what Ira done -- and when do the Indians dance?

Then Ira started drinkin' hard -- jail was often his home;
They let him raise the flag and lower it -- as you would throw a dog a bone;
He died drunk early one morning -- alone in the land he'd fought to save;
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch -- was the grave for Ira Hayes.

CODA: Yea, call him drunken Ira Hayes,
But his land is just as dry,
And the ghost is lying thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died.

Question:

What famous war memorial involved Ira Hayes?
0 Replies
 
bobsmythhawk
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 03:00 pm
LARK IN THE MORNING

The lark in the morning she arises from her nest
And she ascends all in the air with the dew upon her breast
And with the pretty ploughboy she'll whistle and she'll sing
And at night she'll return to her own nest again

When his day's work is over, oh what then will he do
Perhaps then into some country wake he'll go
And with his pretty sweetheart, he'll dance and he'll sing
And at night he'll return with his love back again

And as they returned from the wake unto the town
The meadows they are mowed and the grass it is cut down
The nightingale she whistles upon the hawthorn spray
And the moon it is a shining upon the new mown hay

Good luck unto the ploughboys wherever they may be
They will take a winsome lass for to sit upon their knee
And with a jug of beer boys, they'll whistle and they'll sing
And the ploughboy is as happy as a prince or a king
0 Replies
 
McTag
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 03:28 pm
Interesting, the old Scottish word for a crow is corbie, which is from the French corbiere.

And for a big dish, ashet which is from assiette.

Thanks for the old ballad. Very miserable theme, two crows feeding on the corpse of a knight. They don't write 'em like that any more. Smile
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 04:09 pm
Ah, the lark, Bob. How often has that bird been metaphorized in poetry and song as well as the nightingale and its emperor.

McTag, I knew that you would know. I suppose that the bird dressed in black answers the carrion call. <smile>

For the longest time, listeners, I thought the expression, "Murder of Crows" meant that someone, somewhere was doing them in.

Well, no one knew who Ira Hayes was so I'll try this one.

For McTag from Vera Lynn:

Song: When The Lights Go On Again
Album: Some Of The Best


When the lights go on again all over the world
And the boys are home again all over the world
And rain or snow is all that may fall from the skies above
A kiss won't mean "goodbye" but "Hello to love"

When the lights go on again all over the world
And the ships will sail again all over the world
Then we'll have time for things like wedding rings and free hearts will sing
When the lights go on again all over the world

..................

When the lights go on again all over the world
And the ships will sail again all over the world
Then we'll have time for things like wedding rings and free hearts will sing
When the lights go on again all over the world.

How strange, listeners. Vera Lynn also did A Nightingale sang in Berkely Square.
0 Replies
 
Letty
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 05:08 pm
Person of the Week:

The Chip that Jack Built Changed the World

It was a relatively simple device that Jack Kilby showed to a handful of co-workers gathered in TI's semiconductor lab more than 40 years ago -- only a transistor and other components on a slice of germanium. Little did this group of onlookers know, but Kilby's invention, 7/16-by-1/16-inches in size and called an integrated circuit, was about to revolutionize the electronics industry.

and here is the entire story:

http://www.ti.com/corp/docs/kilbyctr/jackbuilt.shtml

Ah, I would sing a song for our Panz, but he's off somewhere. Nevertheless I will anyway:

Frank Sinatra - You?d Be So Nice to Come Home To Lyrics
Writer(s): comden/green/styne


Verse:

It?s not that you?re fairer
Than a lot of girls just as pleasin?
That I doff my hat
As a worshipper at your shrine
It?s not that you?re rarer
Than asparagus out of season
No, my darling, this is the reason
Why you?ve got to be mine

Chorus:

You?d be so nice to come to
You?d be so nice by the fire
While the breeze on high, sang a lullaby
You?d be all that I could desire

Under stars chilled by the winter
Under an august moon burning above
You?d be so nice
You?d be paradise, to come home to and love

The question marks in lieu of the apostrophe are not mine.<smile>
0 Replies
 
djjd62
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 07:24 pm
these next songs go out to you jack kilby


http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B000002GYI.01._SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg


Computer World
Kraftwerk

Interpol and Deutsche Bank, FBI and Scotland Yard
Interpol and Deutsche Bank, FBI and Scotland Yard
Business, Numbers, Money, People
Business, Numbers, Money, People
Computer World
Computer World

Interpol and Deutsche Bank, FBI and Scotland Yard
Interpol and Deutsche Bank, FBI and Scotland Yard
Business, Numbers, Money, People
Business, Numbers, Money, People
Computer World
Computer World

Interpol and Deutsche Bank, FBI and Scotland Yard
Interpol and Deutsche Bank, FBI and Scotland Yard
Crime, Travel, Communication, Entertainment
Crime, Travel, Communication, Entertainment
Computer World
Computer World


Pocket Calculator
Kraftwerk

I'm the operator with my pocket calculator
I'm the operator with my pocket calculator
I am adding and subtracting
I'm controlling and composing
I'm the operator with my pocket calculator
I'm the operator with my pocket calculator

I am adding and subtracting
I'm controlling and composing
By pressing down a special key, it plays a little melody
By pressing down a special key, it plays a little melody

I'm the operator with my pocket calculator
I'm the operator with my pocket calculator
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Fri 24 Jun, 2005 07:29 pm
Feudin' And Fightin' - Dorothy Shay

[Words by Al Dubin and Burton Lane]
[Music by Burton Lane]

Feudin' and fussin' and a-fightin'
Sometimes it gets to be excitin'
Don't like them ornery neighbors down by the creek
We'll be plumb out of neighbors next week
Grandma, poor ol' grandma
Why'd they have to shoot poor grandma
She lies 'neath the clover
Someone caught her bending over
Pickin' up a daisy
Feduin' and fussin' and a-fightin'
This is a wrong that needs a rightin'
Let's get that funeral service over
So then we can start in a-feudin' again

Feudin' and fightin' and a-fussin'
That's all that's goin' on with us'n
We are such neighborly people peaceful and sweet
All except when we happen to meet
Daughter, baby daughter
Poisened all the neighbors chickens
Daughter hadn't oughter
Least 'till she could run like the dickens
They hit her with a shovel
Feudin' and fightin' and a-fussin'
No use a-standin' here a-cussin,'
Let's give our daughter a pistol now that she's four
And go feudin' and fightin' some more
0 Replies
 
 

Related Topics

WA2K Radio is now on the air, Part 3 - Discussion by edgarblythe
 
Copyright © 2025 MadLab, LLC :: Terms of Service :: Privacy Policy :: Page generated in 0.32 seconds on 01/17/2025 at 01:57:09