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Have
you ever misheard some of the lyrics of a song or poem? Perhaps as a
child listening to nursery rhymes, biblical recitations or Christmas
carols? Nothing to be ashamed of — almost everyone has had that
experience, and most of us don’t find out our error for years.
More to
the point, did you know that there’s a word for such a misheard lyric or
spoken phrase? It’s mondegreen.
I can
hear your chorus now: “That’s a helluva word. What’s its origin? It’s
not in my dictionary.” Well, it’s not in my OED2 either. Nor at
AskOxford.com.
Why?
Firstly: it goes back only to November 1954. Secondly: it’s unlikely to
be in any but a recent large dictionary or on the Internet (where “new”
words are always proudly flaunted by those in the know). So here’s the
story, and for it I’m indebted to all such cognoscenti of
neologisms — including Jennifer
Stewart, the mob at
Wikipedia,
Jon
Carroll at SfGate and Daniel Austin and friends at
Fun with Words.
The term
mondegreen is actually a coinage, almost certainly by a writer
named Sylvia Wright (1917-1981) in an American magazine article (The
Death of Lady Mondegreen). There’s some disagreement about her
nationality, however: was she British or American? The magazine remains
the subject of discussion, too: some say The Atlantic, other have
it as Harper’s.
As a
young child, Sylvia had listened to an anonymous 17th century ballad
The Bonnie Earl o’ Moray (sometimes spelt Murray), which
tells of the death of the disgraced but popular earl in 1592. Like many
old ballads, it’s very long — over 60 stanzas, but what concerns us here
is the one line
 They
hae slain the Earl o’ Moray and laid him on the green.
In The
Death of Lady Mondegreen, Sylvia revealed that she had heard the
line as
 They
hae slain the Earl o’ Moray and Lady Mondegreen.
In adult
life, Sylvia realised that this sort of error is quite common, and so in
the article she suggested that a noun — mondegreen — be coined
for all such mishearings. The name has stuck, so much so that we now
have the series of books by Gavin Edwards: (a) ’Scuse Me . . . While
I Kiss This Guy (And Other Misheard Lyrics), (b) He’s Got the
Whole World in His Pants (And More Misheard Lyrics), (c) When a
Man Loves a Walnut (And Even More Misheard Lyrics), (d) Deck the
Halls With Buddy Holly (And Other Misheard Christmas Lyrics).
Here are
some examples of pop music mondegreens reported on the Internet.
First,
the line
 Waterloo,
Couldn’t escape if I wanted to [Abba]
has been
mistaken for
 Portaloo,
Couldn’t escape if I wanted to,
while
 Pretty,
pretty, pretty, pretty, Peggy Sue [Buddy Holly]
has been
misinterpreted as
 Britches,
britches, britches, britches, Baggy Sue,
and the
words
 I
am a rock, I am an island [Simon and Garfunkel]
have been
understood as
 I
am a rock, I am an onion.
Finally,
the phrase
 Constant
craving [k.d. lang]
has been
variously misheard as:
 Can’t
stand gravy,
 Constant
gravy,
 Constipated,
 Cross
dress craving,
 God
said gravy,
 God
send gravy.
Mind you,
mondegreening isn’t confined to popular songs:
 Have
you got a CD with Bronze Lullaby on it? It’s classical, I think.
A little
further afield, many a bookseller or librarian has had to stifle a
giggle when asked by a schoolkid something like
 Have
you got a copy of the Charles Darwin classic
Oranges and Peaches?
American
readers should remember this recitation:
 I
pledge a lesion to the flag, of the United State of America, and to the
republic for Richard Stans . . .
or
perhaps in this form:
 I
led the pigeons to the flag . . .
Here are
some Christmas mondegreens:
 Get
dressed ye married gentlemen,
 Let
nothing through this May,
 Good
King Wences’ car backed out
 On
the feet of heathens.
 On
the twelfth day of Christmas,
 My
tulip sent to me:
 Twelve
drummers drumming,
 Eleven
pipers piping,
 Ten
lawyers leaving,
 Nine
lazy Hansons,
 Eight
maids a-milking,
 Seven
warts on women,
 Six
geezers laying,
 Five
golden rings,
 Four
calling birds,
 Three
French hens,
 Two
turtle doves,
 And
a cartridge in a pantry.
Yes, I
know: are all the above genuine mistakes, or are they concocted? They
all claim to be fair dinkum, but your guess is as good as mine.
After
all, a mondegreen should be an unintentional mishearing rather than
conscious word play. Nevertheless, the temptation to make an artificial
mondegreen is sometimes too hard to resist. This is the sort of thing we
looked at in our musical puns column in Bikwil Issue 18 (March
2000), where some examples might well be called premeditated mondegreens
A couple of my favourites:
 Stompin’
on the Saveloy
 Shake
My Gland — I’ve Got Strange-looking Parasites.
In a way,
the mondegreen resembles the malapropism. As you will know, the
malapropism is named after Mrs. Malaprop in Richard Sheridan’s comedy
The Rivals (1775). She’s the one who uttered immortal lines like
I have
since laid Sir Anthony’s preposition before her [proposition]
He is the
very pine-apple of politeness! [pinnacle]
Sure, if
I reprehend any thing in this world it is the use of my oracular tongue,
and a nice derangement of epitaphs! [apprehend, vernacular, arrangement,
epithets]
It’s
worth keeping in mind that neither malapropisms nor mondegreens would be
possible without one key factor.
I’m
referring to the slurring of consonants so prevalent in spoken English,
which is exaggerated by sound recording/broadcasting or one’s distance
from the person singing or speaking.
Hence
what occurs when you’re in the lounge-room, say, and someone calls out
from the other end of the house. You catch the vowels, but mishear the
consonants. Happens all the time at our place — senior moments galore. |