Let's have a fun thread about linguistic enlightenment.
As Stan Rodgers said:
As in the case of the carpenters' mate,
your linguistic enlightenment might arrive late,
and you can end up getting screwed
A headline in the newspaper a few years back read: "Hooker Saves Cyclist from Cougar". A hooker is a job title in the logging industry. A cougar in this instance means large carnivorous cat. But both those words have alternative meanings.
Today I heard that a, "Lion bites Welsh hooker" and it got me wondering if they have a lot of loggers in Wales.
I love words. I have made a living at them for decades... but most of my linguistic rabbit holes involved colloquialisms specific to my region. That said, your mention of hookers triggered fond memories..... no, not the obvious. When I was in jr high school a military kid transferred in and introduced us to rugby. We were a bunch of scots-irish, black and Lumbee Indian country boys.... big, crazy, sullenly aggressive. We formed an amateur team and began competing with guys twice our age. It was kill or be killed. I could have gone pro at abut the age of 14 or 15, 6'4" of pure testosterone. Our team... or bunch of crazy rednecks was interviewed, and the reporter asked, "rugby terminology is confusing... what is a hooker?" I answered, "Brother, I have no clue... I don't think any of us know the rules... We just try to kill the guy with the ball... unless he is on out team... then we kill everyone who comes near him." We broke fingers, feet, legs, arms, collar bones and so many ribs.... We would challenge football teams to rugby and tell them that they could wear their pads.... It was pure teenage insanity. I never did learn the rules or figure out what a hooker was, in that regard.
"Them that don't know him won't like him and them that do sometimes won't know how to take him... he ain't wrong, he's just different and his pride won't let him do the things that make you think he's right"
There was an old woman in Woodbridge there was
So proper and tidy and all of them things
She would wander all day with her duster in hand
She was one of those women who clean where they stand
And while she is at it she sings, boys
And while she is at it she sings.
(And you sing too)
Now there's no doubt about it her house was a show
With everything proper and stowed in its place
And that's why her dustbins had a shed of their own
Like a mirror each one of those bins it had grown
You could read every line in your face, boys
You could read every line in your face.
Now there's nothing the matter with tidiness, no
No matter with keeping your house up to scratch
But these bins were located one side of a yard
Where a Doberman Pinscher was prowling on guard
Trained to kill if you lifted the latch, boys,
Trained to kill if you lifted the latch.
Now it's all very well to protect what is yours
And it's better not leaving temptation around
But a job of the dust is rewarding enough
And there's nothing like taking the smooth with the rough
To be savaged by some bloody hound, boys
To be savaged by some bloody hound.
Now this Doberman Pinscher would play in the yard
And a couple of old tennis balls was his game
In his make-believe game it's himself that he saw
As the world's only dog with a bionic jaw (grrr)
And that's when the garbage man came, boys
And that's when the garbage man came.
Now fate took a hand on this coldest of days
For his wife she had made him to wear a warm coat
And to knot up his muffler to keep out the chill
And for once in his life he had bent to her will
And the dog couldn't get at his throat, boys
And the dog couldn't get at his throat.
Now when the woman above was drawn to the noise
It's down from a high chamber window she called
To the dustman engaged in a struggle for life
In a middle class tone you could cut with a knife
She loudly exclaimed, "Kick his balls," boys
She loudly exclaimed, "Kick his balls."
Now the dustman could scarcely believe the command
But he didn't have time to request it again
So ignoring distinctions of language and class
He unleashed a size ten on the Doberman's ass
And its eyes misted over with pain, boys
And its eyes misted over with pain.
Now imagine the silence that followed that blow (yelp)
With the command ringing on in the poor dustman's ears
And as the poor doggie lay writhing around
You could see the two tennis balls there on the ground (ooh)
And her meaning was rendered quite clear, boys
And her meaning was rendered quite clear.
Now I'd like to explain that this dog was at stud
And the dustman was sued for the fees that he'd lost
But it's lucky he was to escape with his life
He went home with a kiss for his poor startled wife
Who harangued him for what it might cost, boys
Who harangued him for what it might cost.
Now if there's a moral to be gained from this song
It's that innocent language might sometimes sound crude
And as in the case of the carpenter's mate
Your linguistic enlightenment might arrive late
And you could end up getting screwed, boys
And you could end up getting screwed.