February 2, 2023

Parapraxis

Writer's Showcase

MAIRZY DOTES AND DOZY DOATS AND LITTLE LAMZY DIVEY

2 min read

Unknown to me,
In the year I was born,
Mairzy Dotes fell
off a fellow writer’s nib.
A nonsense born
alongside mine,
sung to me through grandma’s voice
and scorched into my mind
so that the stench
of my burning flesh
returns from time to time
without me having choice.

While Dozy Doats
was playing in the charts
wee little me
fell into an open fire…
Such a brief attempt
at passing through!
Thwart by being grabbed and pulled free,
I survived with special care
by doctors treating the burns
of airmen burned in the air
by Hitler’s obscene decree.

Now Lamzy Divey comes
and fills my mind with song
on waking to a cyclic World
where the fresh stench of flesh
pervades my nose and mind.
Another madman dreams of gold
and adulation for his wrong.
The miasma billows across seas
and is not even fresh –
for the madness continues on
from one day to another.

One year to another.
Jumbled and jivey.
A nonsense that should not be.
Never to be forgotten.
Never the lesson learned:
Brother killing brother.
Killing child and mother.
And no matter what may fall
mortar bomb or rockets
In the end it will be the same
it happens to us all…

he’ll leave with empty pockets.

 

 

© griffonner 2022

 

 

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6 thoughts on “MAIRZY DOTES AND DOZY DOATS AND LITTLE LAMZY DIVEY

  1. So true Allen. “Same it happens to us we will leave empty pockets, two days are of life, two days are of enjoyment, why waste it in fighting, when we know nothing will go with us and only few yards will be taken for our burial. Wars are always bad for both sides, it harms both the sides, there is no one’s good in fighting. Appreciate it Allen really cool.

  2. Mairzy doats is an interesting song that has a deeper meaning than meets the eye.
    You carefully used it in this poem and it’s really good.

    I love the last part…”he’ll leave with empty pockets”

  3. Recently my partner started singing “Mairzy Doats” around the house, as a fun little tune to sing with the grand-children.
    https://youtu.be/EU2CKQQr90E

    I remembered the tune myself, although I was unable to place when I had first heard it. Perhaps as a child, in a TV cartoon. I’m not sure.
    It is such a strange little song and I knew is was older than me, so I did some online research.
    According to wikipedia: “Mairzy Doats“ is a novelty song written and composed in 1943 by Milton Drake, Al Hoffman, and Jerry Livingston. It contains lyrics that make no sense…
    I became curious about the popularity of a senseless little ditty that made No. 1 on the pop charts in March 1944. Selling 450,000 copies of the sheet music within three weeks of release and twenty-three other performers releasing their own recordings in a span of only two weeks.

    At a pragmatic level it can be seen as a welcome distraction from the miasma of a war that had infected the world at that time.

    Further research uncovered your poem, about the memory of your grand-mother singing “Lamzy Divey” to you as a child. How the memory of pain at that tragic time still mirrors the pain still being experienced in a world at war.

    When I spoke to my partner about what I discovered, I was saddened that her enthusiasm for the song dissapeared with the thought of the song’s tragic connections with pain and war.
    My own questions only became deeper, with the consideration that different people could experience either hope or hopelesness with an apparently, superficial jingle.

    Here we leave the well worn path of mundane thought, to seek meaning in the trackless wilderness of a subjective experience, where polarities offer opportunities to meet the deeper motivators of human experience.

    Firstly, how war can be figuratively burned into the human psyche. Buried under life experiences that offer no opportunity to mourn the loss, only to reappear as hopelesness about the ongoing struggles of humanity.
    While on the other hand, the hope of a dying generation can be lifted by its own desire for a hope, that rises from nothing more than a dance tune.

    Here the pragmatist and the idealist part ways. One, to the reassuring discomfort of the world we ‘know’. The other, to the high medows of sanguine thoughts, where possibilities appear as wild flowers to be rolled around in.

    Thank you for the opportunity to consider …

    1. Well, Martin, you have certainly taken a great deal of time and trouble to impart to me your findings from your research over this piece of music… inspired by reading my posting. I thank you for this. You have very interesting views on it, which I confess did not even occur to me at the time of writing. Although, of course, I became aware of its popularity in 1944.
      (I suspect that ‘the system’ of this web site has either truncated or prevented you from additional characters, if that is the case feel free to post an additional comment containing the suspected remaining part. 🙂 )
      I thank you once again for taking the time and trouble to read and comment upon my work.
      Allen

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