Say it ain't so!

I was very pleased once, to be invited to sing with two friends on Pier 39 in San Francisco. It is in one of my favorite cities and I'd never sung in Elizabethan costume before. The music was interesting, too. Three-part madrigals about sad sack lovers and the pain of love, all written in renaissance style. When the day came, our male friend, Chris, was suited up in brown tights, a little tunic type piece of clothing with a tight belt, and an Elizabethan collar. If I remember correctly, he was quite a spectacle next to Shelly and I, wearing our nondescript flowing, brownish outfits. He looked like a noble and I looked like a scullery maid. But in any event, we found a nice little spot on the pier, put down a hat to collect money in, and began singing for all we were worth.


To our credit, we were young, had good strong voices, and sounded great together. A number of men looked appreciatively at Chris' long shapely legs in tights. We found that quite funny. At one point, Shelly and I switched from three-part motets over to a little song for two voices. It was a little renaissance ditty, and we loved the harmony of it, our voices meandering over and under one another in intricate counter melodies. I guess I'd never paid attention to the lyrics, for suddenly we found ourselves singing,

There we meet together and we kiss each other;
And like two wantons dilly dally...

Followed by a number of dilly dallies, over and under. The meaning of this was unclear, but we were having such a great time singing loudly over the sound of the waves and the people in and around the shops that we really didn't pay attention to the words. It was one of very few period songs that we had found which was written for two a capella women's voices. As we dropped our jaws and opened our mouths wider in order to project our voices, we suddenly heard ourselves singing,

There we meet together And we kiss each other

And like two wontons dilly dally...

It was too much and we erupted into gales of laughter. The little knot of listeners dispersed in disgust. We couldn't collect ourselves. It took quite awhile to pull ourselves together and shed our wonton personas. To this day, we laughingly sing out the offending line and have a good chuckle.

Shelly was present another time once when another lyric caught us off guard. We were singing in the Bullfinch church in Lancaster, Massachusetts.

Found here

We were singing in a group called Jubilate, a small choral group at our college. We were singing the beautiful Drop, Drop Slow Tears by Phineas Fletcher. The words are beautiful, moving, simple:

Drop, drop, slow tears, and bathe those beauteous feet,
which brought from heaven the news and Prince of Peace.
Cease not, wet eyes, his mercies to entreat;
to cry for vengeance sin doth never cease.
In your deep floods drown all my faults and fears;
nor let his eye see sin, but through my tears.

Few songs I know are more lofty and moving that this. But as we held forth in the wooden pews in that acoustically wonderful balcony, we heard ourselves singing,

See snot wet eyes, his mercies to entreat...

Oh, this will never do. We worked it out so that careful enunciation allowed us to side step this verbal disaster. But not a time do I hear it but that I smile.

You've heard things like this before--the words that run amok when sung carelessly or too quickly, such as "Gladly the cross I'd bear" (Gladly the cross-eyed bear). It sounds pretty funny to me, and I'm sure, to listeners all over. Perhaps it accounts for the distinct "smiling" vocal quality of the King's Singers on their album when they sing,

Weep o mine eyes and cease not

Keep your ears open. You too, will hear all sorts of things like this when you least expect it!