Go Back to Canuckistan

Clara currently has two CD’s in her collection. The first is a Baby Beethoven/Mozart/ABBA disc that plays a series of xylophone-centric lullabies. In true Pavlovian fashion, we can play this to help her fall asleep for a nap or for the night and it will likely work. Of course, that means we need to be very careful when this comes up in the CD changer’s rotation. What happens if Katie and I start to develop the same tendency when the dulcet tones of Rock-a-Bye Baby come over the speakers? What if we then take this CD on a car ride to help Clara slumber on the interstate? Hellooooo, median!

The second CD is a collection of silly sing-along songs from everyone’s favorite kiddie troubadour, Raffi. Growing I up, my sister and I LOVED Raffi. When I first heard this CD in my apartment a month back, I realized I inexplicably knew all of the words, despite it being decades since the last time old Raffi got a spin. Well, I did a little research on Raffi, and I hate to break it to all of you – I have some terrible news about the guy who brought you Baby Beluga. Prepare yourselves.

He’s Canadian.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Sad but true, Raffi is a Canuck. By choice. Yep, he was born in Egypt, and then voluntarily chose to call the Great White North his home. And we’re cool with him teaching our children? Hell, no.

After pondering seven different scenarios that all end with Raffi trapped inside an igloo forever, I decided to calm down and just listen to the lyrics of some of work. After all, Clara seems to be enjoying herself, so I can surely postpone my homicidal tendencies to a time more suitable. You know, like work. But by listening to the lyrics of children’s songs, I was reminded once again that the LYRICS MAKE NO SENSE. To prove my point, I have transcribed one of Raffi’s favorite nursery rhymes and added several additional versions for accuracy, content and modernization. Enjoy.

Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master,
And one for the dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.
Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.

Baa, baa, black sheep
You give me the creeps
Because you’re a
Talking Sheep.
Sure, in the movies
This would not be big
I’m sure that they C-G-I’ed
The words into that pig.
Baa, baa, black sheep
You give me the creeps
Because you’re a
Talking Sheep.

Hold up, Jerkpants,
Let’s roll back the reel
You asked ME to
Cut a deal.
How should I answer
Your ssupply request?
I go, and open my mouth
And now you protest!
Hold up, Jerkpants,
Let’s roll back the reel
You asked ME to
Cut a deal.

Sorry, Sheepskin
I mean you no harm.
You come from a
Unique Farm.
One where the horses
Banter through the night
And one where the ducks discuss
The time to make flight.
Sorry, Sheepskin
I mean you no harm.
You come from a
Unique Farm.

That’s okay, friend
Now can I move on?
Master and Lady
Need their wool by dawn
I must move quickly
Down to their address
We sheep carry our own wool,
Don’t use UPS
That’s okay, friend
Now can I move on?
Master and Lady
Need their wool by dawn

Not a problem,
Please go on your way.
Let me warn you
If I may
About that last kid
For whom you have wool.
He’ll just go into the town
And trade for a mule.
Not a problem,
Please go on your way.
Let me help you
If I may.

Always wondered
Boys don’t need textiles
Black market’s
Not Black Sheep’s style
I’ll tell you what, man
This bag is free
I cannot exchange my wares
For some lame donkey
Always wondered
Boys don’t need textiles
Black market’s
Not Black Sheep’s style