ASH Songbook
A beloved ASH tradition, the singing of Sherlockian songs brings warmth, humor, and harmony to our society’s annual luncheons and dinners. Set to familiar tunes with lyrics beautifully crafted in honor to Holmes, Watson, and all of their adventures, these songs are an absolute necessity to each gathering.
Whether you’re a seasoned soprano or simply humming along, the ASH songbook invites all to join in (including you, dear reader)! It’s not about pitch, it’s about passion. Nothing brings a room of Adventuresses together like a chorus raised for the Great Detective.
AT LAST
Sung to the tune of “At Last”
Lyrics by Henry Boote
Sung by Betsy Rosenblatt
Presented at the BSI Weekend 2016
Celebrating 25 Years of Women in the BSI
At last, the BSI’s complete
And here we are in New York,
And now the women can meet.
At last, our Wiggins made it right.
We’ll raise a glass together
And proudly stand up tall tonight.
We’ll share our dreams,
Our thoughts, our humor,
Our love of Sherlock Holmes,
But most of all,
We’ll share our friendship,
A better world for all.
We’ll smile,
And hold onto the past,
And help to shape the future.
We’re BSI at last!
A SILVER CELEBRATION
Lyrics by Henry Boote,
Sung to the tune of “Aunt Clara”
Presented at the BSI Weekend 2016
Celebrating 25 Years of Women in the BSI
(Verse)
The Canon is filled with
The fair sex untold,
But none could ever compareTo our Lady Irregulars,
Present and past.
Tonight we do proudly declare:
(Verse)
That Rice and Fromkin
And Rosenblatts—two,
McKuras, Vizoskie, and Kitts
Are a treasure of knowledge
And camaraderie,
Happily here in our midst.
(Verse)
To Bradley and Herzog,
To Diamond and Bond,
To Pollak and Stajic and Faye,
To those who have passed
Beyond Reichenbach Falls,
We proudly remember and say:
(Chorus)
Tonight we honor the Ladies,
And tip our hats and recall
That for twenty-five years
We have basked in their light,
So raise up your glass to them all.
(Verse)
To Walker and Karlson,
To Rusch and McKay,
To Fetherston, Perdue, and King,
To Purves and Niver,
McCausland and Doyle,
We toast you and proudly do sing.
(Chorus)
We’ll always honor the Ladies,
Our deerstalkers tipped to the Call,
And for twenty-five more years
We’ll cherish those days.
God bless and good night to you all.
THE ASHENPOOF SONG
Sung to the tune of “The Whiffenpoof Song”
From the tables down at Simpson’s,
To the place Goldini dwells,
To the dear old Alpha Inn we love so well,
The Adventuresses gather, with their glasses raised on high,
And the magic of their singing casts a spell.
YES, the magic of their singing of the songs we love so well,
“Lira-lira,” and “Aunt Clara,” and the rest.
We shall celebrate The Master while life and voice shall last!
Then we’ll pass — and be remembered with the best.
We are poor little ASH who have found the way.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
We are little black sheep that have gone astray.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Adventuress scholars off on a high,
Famed for draining our glasses dry.
(Lord, have mercy on BSI!)
Ha! Ha! Ha!
THE REINDEER SONG
Sung to the tune of “Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1” Land of Hope and Glory
The Isle of Uffa Chowder & Marching Society
“The willing suspension of good taste”
My reindeer flies sideways:
your reindeer does not.
My reindeer flies sideways:
your reindeer flies upside down.
My reindeer flies sideways:
your reindeer is dead.
THE UFFAN CAROL
Sung to the tune of “The Holly and the Ivy”
The brandy and the soda
When they are in the glass:
You drink enough of both of them
And you fall right on your ass!
Oh, the clinking of the ice
And the bubbling of the fizz:
You drink enough of both of them
And you have to go and whiz.
The Remy and the White Rock,
The Hennessy and Schweppes:
You drink enough of both of them,
And you tumble down the steps.
WE ALWAYS MENTION AUNT CLARA
There are several versions of this famous song, copyright 1946, 1990 by I. Eugene Willis and Ruth Willis. It was introduced to Sherlockians by James Montgomery and is traditionally sung at the annual BSI Birthday dinner. There is more than one version of the tune and written music, but in recent years Adventuresses have developed the slightly abbreviated ASH version that gallops to the ASH verse at the end as rapidly as possible.
She used to sing hymns in the old village choir
She used to teach Sunday-school class,
At playing the organ she never would tire
Those dear days are over, alas.
In church on the organ she’d practice and play;
The preacher would pump up and down.
His wife caught him pumping the organ one day
And that’s why aunt Clara left town.
Chorus: We never mention Aunt Clara;
Her picture is turned to the wall.
Though she lives on the French Riviera,
Mother says that she’s dead to us all.
With presents he tempted and lured her to sin
Her innocent virtue to smirch,
But her honor was strong and she never gave in
Till he gave her the deed to the church.
They said no one cared if she’d ever come back
When she left us her fortune to seek
But the boys in the firehouse painted it black
And the ball team wore mourning that week.
Chorus
They told her the wages of sinners was death.
But she said, since she had to be dead,
She’d just as soon die with champagne on her breath,
And pink satin sheets on her bed.
The good things in life always go to the pure
(The Sunday school lessons all teach)
But I wonder, when I see a rotogravure
Of her eighty-room shack at the beach.
Chorus
They say that hell-fires will punish her sin,
She’ll burn for her carryings-on,
But at least for the present she’s toasting her skin
In the sunshine of Deauville and Cannes.
They said that to garments of sackcloth she’ll sink,
With ashes to cover her head,
But just at the moment it’s ermine and mink,
And a diamond tiara, instead.
Chorus
They told her she’d live in the muck and the mud,
Yet the papers just published a snap
Of Aunt Clara, at Nice, with a prince of the blood,
And a bishop asleep on her lap.
They say that she’s sunken, they say that she fell
From the narrow and virtuous path,
But her formal French gardens are sunken as well
And so is her pink marble bath.
Chorus
My poor mother’s life has been pious and meek:
She drives in a second-hand Ford.
Aunt Clara received for her birthday last week
A Rolls-Royce, a Stutz and a Cord.
My mother does all of her housework alone
She washes and scrubs for her board.
I’ve reached the conclusion that virtue’s its own,
And also its only reward.
We never mention Aunt Clara,
But when I grow up big and tall,
I shall go to the French Riviera
And let Mother turn ME to the wall.
Adventuresses, as you dine and you drink,
Pray keep dear Aunt Clara in mind.
For unlike a violet, she never did shrink
From pleasures both crude and refined.
For many a year we’ve kept burning her flame,
We’re proud of our riotous past!
The blush on our cheeks is from wine, not from shame –
Adventuresses to the last!
We ALWAYS mention Aunt Clara!
Her picture’s displayed on our wall.
Though she lives on the French Riviera,
She is here in the hearts of us all!
HOLMES’ AND WATSON’S TIME
Words copyright Jane Hinkley, ASH
Sung to the tune of “Auld Lang Syne“
To all our friends canonical
On both sides of the crime
We’ll take the cup and lift it up
To Holmes’ and Watson’s time.
To London 1895
In song and prose and rhyme
We’ll celebrate that famous date
In Holmes’ and Watson’s time.
LANDLORD!
A traditional English drinking song somewhat improved upon by the Isle of Uffa Chowder and Marching Society
ASH Spring Meeting, April 3, 2016
Four jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern.
Four jolly coachmen sat in an English tavern.
And they decided, and they decided, and they decided
To have another flagon.
Landlord, fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over!
Landlord, fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over!
For tonight we’ll merry, merry be! For tonight we’ll merry, merry be!
For tonight we’ll merry, merry be! Tomorrow we’ll be sober.
Here’s to the man drinks water pure, and goes to bed quite sober.
Here’s to the man drinks water pure, and goes to bed quite sober.
Falls as the leaves do fall, falls as the leaves do fall,
Falls as the leaves do fall, and dies before October.
Here’s to the man who drinks brown ale, and goes to bed quite mellow.
Here’s to the man who drinks brown ale, and goes to bed quite mellow.
Lives as he ought to live, lives as he ought to live,
Lives as he ought to live, and dies a jolly good fellow.
Landlord, fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over!
Landlord, fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over!
For tonight we’ll merry, merry be! For tonight we’ll merry, merry be!
For tonight we’ll merry, merry be! Tomorrow we’ll be sober.
Here’s to the boys of BSI, who act with great decorum.
Here’s to the boys of BSI, who act with great decorum.
They’re the dullest company, they’re the dullest company,
They’re the dullest company – we’ll do the drinking for ‘em!
Here’s to the ASH, who make a scene and sing around the table.
Here’s to the ASH, who make a scene and sing around the table.
They’re the best of company, they’re the best of company,
They’re the best of company – let’s toast ‘em while we’re able!