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Sunday, April 23, 2006
"My Mother Was a Chinese Trapeze Artist" by The Decemberists
My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist
In pre-war Paris
Smuggling bombs for the underground
And she met my father
At a fete in Aix-en-Provence
He was disguised as a Russian cadet
In the employ of the Axis
And there in the half-light
Of the provincial midnight
To a lone concertina
They drank in cantinas
And toasted to Edith Piaf And the fall of the Reich
My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy
And left for the cattle
But later was found by a communist
Who had deserted his ranks
To follow his dream
To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina
I get letters sometimes
They bought a plantation
She weeds the tobacco
He offends the nation
And they write,
"Don't be a stranger, y'hear Sincerely, your sister"
So my parents had me
To the disgust of the prostitues
On a bed in a brothel
Surprisingly raised with tender care
Until the money got tight
And they bet me away
To a blind brigadier in a game
Of high stakes canasta
But he made me a sailor
On his brigadier ship fleet
I know every yardarm
From main mast to jib sheet
But sometimes I long to be landlocked
And to work in a bakery
--from Five Songs
In pre-war Paris
Smuggling bombs for the underground
And she met my father
At a fete in Aix-en-Provence
He was disguised as a Russian cadet
In the employ of the Axis
And there in the half-light
Of the provincial midnight
To a lone concertina
They drank in cantinas
And toasted to Edith Piaf And the fall of the Reich
My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy
And left for the cattle
But later was found by a communist
Who had deserted his ranks
To follow his dream
To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina
I get letters sometimes
They bought a plantation
She weeds the tobacco
He offends the nation
And they write,
"Don't be a stranger, y'hear Sincerely, your sister"
So my parents had me
To the disgust of the prostitues
On a bed in a brothel
Surprisingly raised with tender care
Until the money got tight
And they bet me away
To a blind brigadier in a game
Of high stakes canasta
But he made me a sailor
On his brigadier ship fleet
I know every yardarm
From main mast to jib sheet
But sometimes I long to be landlocked
And to work in a bakery
--from Five Songs
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