THE COMMON ROUND

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23918, 20 September 1939, Page 2

THE COMMON ROUND

By Wayfarer

With a courteous bow to the British Ministry of Information and an eyebrow raised in acknowledgment to the New Zealand Director of Publicity, who condescended to allow the fact to leak out, we accept the news that poilu and Tommy have now joined in selecting that fine old Scandinavian folk-song. “ Boomps-a-Daisy! ” as their marching measure.

“ Boomps-a-Daisy,” we hasten to explain, is a song in the same sense that the Lambeth Walk is a dance, or, to put it another way, “ Boomps-a-Daisy ” is essentially a song in which one suits the action to the word. It goes like this: Face partner, tap hands, clap hands to knees; then, with great delicacy and discretion, gentleman is required to boomp the fleshier portion of his hips against the bustle of his partner, she responding simultaneously with a boomp in kind. Bowing, hand on heart, they now melt into each other’s arms and waltz for four bars. Refreshed, they proceed to boomp all over again, solemnly carolling meanwhile this languorous old Polynesian refrain:

Hands, knees, and Boomps-a-Daisy! I like a bustle that bends. Hands, knees, and Boomps-a-Daisy! What is a BOOMP between friends?

We understand that it goes down very well in the drawing room, provided the gentleman remembers to place the accent upon the gentle portion of his nom de danse, and the lady is fitted with one of these shock-absorbing bustles, and does not place too much emphasis on the boomp.

As a marching song, however, we cannot help feeling that “Boomps-a-Daisy ” may have its drawbacks—or, not to put too fine a point upon it, its sore-backs. In these conditions it is, of necessity, shorn of the softening influence which a feminine bustle would lend to the piece de resistance of the song, or, in other words, to the boomp. There must be, as it seems to us, a distinct tendency for the boomps to get a triffe boisterous, with disastrous effects to discipline and alignment alike.

It was only recently, readers who are military-minded will recall, that Captain Liddell Hart finally persuaded the War Office to accept without reserve a change in the drill system, by which instead of marching in “ fours,” platoons would march three sections abreast, and fail in for inspection in three ranks. Headquarters, for the sestheticallyworthy reason that the men might not look as well in this formation, long resisted the change. It would be indeed sad if now, when even the most choleric colonels have recognised this revolution in the ranks, the military authorities were asked to accept another alteration, perhaps requiring poilus and Tommies to march two abreast, in order that the entente cordiale might be the more fully and efficiently attested when the massed bands of the Allies strike up “Boomps-a-Daisy."

The sad disorder in the ranks, the splitting agitation in the cerebral regions of the High Command, which even the most closely-fitting brass hat might not be able to confine, can well be imagined if this callipygian craze is permitted to spread through the armed forces. Instead of facing smartly “ eyes front,” the troops will be turning eyes in, in order to face their partners. Instead of shouldering arms they will be tapping hands in rhythm, and when the order to march is given, boomps in waltz-time will take the place of the reassuring click of firm-set heels upon the cobblestones. It is a Bateman-esque nightmare that the mere thought of these possibilities conjures up.

How a marching song evolves, by what mysterious agency it becomes the chant of the armies as they prepare for battle, perhaps nobody quite knows. Kipling’s “Absentminded Beggar,” copies of which you may still discover at the bottom of piles of music in the homes of an older generation, was written more or less to order, to see us through the first war in the present century. “Recessional” was a tailor-made job to suit an occasion, but it has always remained a ceremonial number. Of the songs of the first world war, those which had the greatest popularity were not written with anv militant purpose “Tipperary,” “ There’s a Long, Long Trail,” “Little Grey Home in the West,” “ Roses of Picardy,” were all “ naturals.”

As we recall, Mr Novello wrote “ Keep the Home Fires Burning ” with a patriotic purpose, and so with “ Over There,” which the Americans took to war, and “Pack Up Your Troubles.” But by and large it is the songs that came spontaneously to recognition which are remembered best. One manufactured product we recall even to-day with faint disgust. It was that epic with the refrain, “ We don’t want to lose you, but we think you ought to go.” It is well that the British troops are marching to war to-day to a melody no more open to suspicion than “Boomps-a-Daisy!”

The immediate alternatives, so far as we can discover in a rapid survey of currently popular numbers, are no less foolish and not so hearty. If it is alarming to think of the troops boomps-a-daisying round the parade ground, it is horrifying to conceive of them endeavouring without breaking step to do justice to the “ Ice-Worm Wiggle.” Turn the ice-worm wiggle loose! Glaciers gleam with misty dews. Thrilling ice-worms wait for you Where Alaskan icebergs cruise. "Akh-tu-wu-ye-keh ” to you! Let’s mush on to a sourdough stew.

When we explain that the fragment of patois introduced has a meaning—“ welcome, stranger ” —it becomes obvious that this number lacks the sweet inconsequentiality of “ Boomps-a-Daisy,” which apparently means nothing in general.

More relevant to things as they are. and to the submarine activities in particular, is that choice sample of Negroese concerning the adventures of the “ Three Little Fishies,” or “ itty bitty titties ” if you prefer fish talk. Dese itty bitty titties, it appears, resided down in de meddy in a itty bitty poo’; but being of an inquiring disposition they fam and dey fam until dey taw a Tark (“Shark” to you!), whereupon dey fam back to deir poo’ again But we do not fink dat dis itty bitty song would greatly appeal to General Ironside and the Viscount Gort. It has a chance, perhaps, of being taken up as a theme song by the Nazi Navy.

On visiting the Polish front Adolf Hitler changed his khaki tunic for field grey. Because it matched his complexion better, perhaps.

Great Britain is seizing as contraband clothing which’ is likely to be used by t\ie enemy for war purposes. One of the first hauls, we understand, was a bolt of blue satin which Hermann Goering intended to use as a new sash.