Hang down your head, Nico Drooly

There have been several developments in Nico’s life this past week.

1. She rolled over (kinda)

2. She now officially hates riding in the car. Which in a pedestrian unfriendly place like Lubbock is getting really really difficult.

3. But…if I sing her The Kingston Trio’s “Tom Dooley” in the most exaggerated baritone voice possible, she stops crying and listens attentively. Until, that is, I stop singing Tom Dooley.

It seems to make no difference to her that I am tone deaf. Nor is she bothered by the fact that I only remember about half the words. Or that the song is about a man set to be hung for murdering a woman. Key lyrics include “Stabbed her with my knife” and “Poor boy you’re bound to die.” And Nico cracks up when I sing them both.

The Tom Dooley trick also works in other almost-tear moments. Like if we’re putting on Nico’s clothes (she also doesn’t like to be dressed) or if we’re changing her. Or if her teeth hurt. Etc.

I’m trying now to broaden her musical taste by adding in some Bob Dylan (Don’t Thing Twice It’s Alright), the Beatles (Yesterday) and the Eels (I can’t help falling in love with you). I’ve attempted a female vocalist or two, but she screws up her face and looks very unhappy. So I’m now racking my brain for the lowest male vocalists ever.

Suggestions are welcome and desired.

Nico will be very appreciative.

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18 thoughts on “Hang down your head, Nico Drooly

  1. Maybe you should buy a CD of this opera: “Guinness lists the lowest demanded note in the classical repertoire as D2[4] (almost two octaves below Middle C) in Osmin’s second aria in Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail.”

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  2. How about Nina Simone “Feeling good”? Or, Sweet Honey in the Rock “Wade in the water” or “Ella’s Song. Or Odetta “All the Pretty Little Horses”. These singers have a low voice that might sooth Nico. 🙂

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  3. Ladies & gentleman ,,,,, may we be serious, Please? Nico needs something ,,,, mmmmm ,,,,, root music ,,,,, lyrics with messenger, rude poetry ,,, sweet but with souer & bitter character ,,,,, “Extremoduro” is the option ,,,, Sarah, you need more beer and smoke in your throat

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  4. If she’s into the dark stuff, how about my childhood bedtime favorite: “My father murdered a kangaroo, gave me the grizzly end to chew…” followed by “My father killed a parakeet, gave me the teensiest feet to eat,” & so on, complete lyrics at

    http://raisingredheads.blogspot.com/2013/04/lullabies-of-gristle-y-kind.html

    Couldn’t find a youtube version to pass on the tune, but according to a UCLA site, it’s the same as “Terre de Nos Aieux”–maybe you or Marta know it?

    But why the Kingston Trio above when I was all set to hear your “Tom Dooley”??? SUCH a letdown….

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  5. Pingback: Happy Government Shutdown to you | This Queer Familia

  6. Jane, it sure looks like rain
    These Canadian plains and their windblown hair
    Oh Jane, the bruise colored clouds
    The smell of the ground in the ripening air

    I have seen you in your fluttering dress
    And your dry face of steel
    As you’re dragging your red rowing boat
    ‘Cross the forever fields

    See Jane, something’s gone dead inside my head
    There’s nothing but fear
    Oh Jane, the rivers of grief, the tears of relief
    Seem ages from here

    Sometimes the beauty of life
    Hits like lightening washing everything clear
    And these dimmers of doubt flicker
    And fade out and disappear

    But Jane, that is a luxury
    There are those of a little faith, it seems
    And they beg for truth like charity
    And I see them on every street corner

    They are holding out one righteous hand
    While the other leads the marching band
    In the shadow hymn of the scratch man
    Heed the message, kill the messenger

    Oh Jane, I heard you found love
    Wriggling up from the mud on the shores of Granville
    Oh but Jane, in the wink of an eye
    The naysayers fly like the hounds at your heels

    Oh Jane, now they’ll whisper your name
    And you won’t feel the chains, you won’t see the moss
    Oh Jane, there’s an art to the game
    The aesthetics of love, the athletics of loss

    Sometimes someone drifts by
    And our nets get entwined in the sea
    And in time I might find
    They still mean something to me

    But Jane, that is a luxury
    There are those of a little faith in me
    And they pull me down like gravity
    And I see them on every street corner

    They are masters in the sleight of hand
    They are dancers and they step so grand
    To the shibboleth of Shadowland
    Heed the message, kill the messenger
    We bonded so much sharing that year in high school. I can remember many more of those songs if you need ideas.

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