Big Rock Candy Mountains

An icon, from the Glossary, by Seth.

It's a song made famous most recently by the Coen Brother film O Brother! Where Art Thou! but it's long been considered an idler classic, and merits a reading as much as An Invitation to Lubberland. It's unknown who wrote it, though it is often attributed to Harry McClintock. Harry cleaned up the version considerably before recording it in 1928, excising lyrics he used to sing as a street busker at the turn of the century. You're unlikely to hear these lyrics in any version of the song recorded:

The punk rolled up his big blue eyes

And said to the jocker, "Sandy,

I've hiked and hiked and wandered too,

But I ain't seen any candy.

I've hiked and hiked till my feet are sore

And I'll be damned if I hike any more

To be buggered sore like a hobo's whore

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

Other versions have made the song more kid friendly, turning the cigarette trees into peppermint ones, and the lakes and streams of whiskey into soda pop, but I prefer my hobo ballads with their vices. Except for the buggery, anyway.

Here's the lyrics as we know and love 'em:

On a summer day in the month of May a burly bum came hiking
Down a shady lane through the sugar cane, he was looking for his liking.
As he roamed along he sang a song of the land of milk and honey
Where a bum can stay for many a day, and he won't need any money

Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees near the soda water fountain,
At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

There's a lake of gin we can both jump in, and the handouts grow on bushes
In the new-mown hay we can sleep all day, and the bars all have free lunches
Where the mail train stops and there ain't no cops, and the folks are tender-hearted
Where you never change your socks and you never throw rocks,
And your hair is never parted

Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees near the soda water fountain,
At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

Oh, a farmer and his son, they were on the run, to the hay field they were bounding
Said the bum to the son, "Why don't you come to the big rock candy mountains?"
So the very next day they hiked away, the mileposts they were counting
But they never arrived at the lemonade tide, on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees near the soda water fountain,
At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings on the Big Rock Candy Mountains

One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking, and he said "Boys, I'm not turning."
"I'm heading for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains;"
"So come with me, we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains."

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land that's fair and bright,
The handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars all are empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees,
The lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, all the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall, the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, you never change your socks
And little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
And you can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin,
And you can walk right out again as soon as you are in
There ain't no short-handled shovels, no axes, saws or picks,
I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this comin' fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains!

National Convention of the Idle

The BBC reported last week on a national convention of the Idle that I thought might be of interest to Indolent readers. Feeling too lazy to link, so here's a cut & paste of the article.

T'is what we need here in Canada. A First National convention of the Idle. But the closest we may get to it is the TINARS/ Indolent launch of the Idler's Glossary in 5 + weeks in Toronto.

The article:

Delegates amble to laziness conference

By Frances Kennedy BBC

Laziness - an elixir of long life in a world of deadlines?

The pressures and rhythms of modern life often prompt people to seek new ways of unwinding - a course of yoga, a massage or a long stroll.

In Italy, though, a group of people are this weekend proposing a different approach to the problem. Their answer - simply do nothing.

The first National Convention of the Idle is taking place in a village near the Swiss border.

Organisers say they hope the whole concept of idleness can be re-evaluated.

According to one of the organisers, comic actor and writer Gianni Fantoni, idleness is not a vice but a sign of intelligence, as idle people find smart ways of getting the same results with less effort.

He says it is also an elixir of long life in a world of deadlines.

Compulsory siesta

Italy's lazybones will gather, if they can be bothered, in the mountain village of Champoluc, where they can comfortably arrive by cable car.

The event will include an exhibition of idleness through the ages, and a display of objects that reduce effort to a minimum - a dinner suit with shoes and socks incorporated, a rubbish bin with a chute attached, a mould to make snowballs without freezing your fingers and, almost a symbol of the movement, a hammock.

Participants have been promised that the seminar on idleness will last less than half an hour, a long siesta is obligatory and they will receive tips on perfecting laziness.

The organisers will also present a series of 10 commandments on how to avoid effort. These include letting others always make the first move, remembering that exercise is for other people, and never, ever volunteering for anything.