Dear Mavis, Are You Bloody Well Kidding Me?

by Abracadebra

What happens when Newkirk finds out that his sister has been writing letters to Colonel Hogan-and that the Guv has actually been writing back? Letters from an irritable British corporal happen, that's what. Many thanks for Prolegomenon for inspiring this response with her very funny "To Colonel RE Hogan" story.

10. Chapter 10: The Barley Mow

The author is now asking and answering her own questions. That's tops in German efficiency! This chapter responds to Chapters 21-22 of Prolegomenon's "To Colonel RE Hogan."

FEBRUARY 21, 1944

Dear Peter,

Maggie just turned 13. Everyone says she's exactly like you.

I'm not sure what you've got planned for St. Patrick's Day, but please be careful. I've counted two black eyes, a bloody nose and a crash out of your bunk in the past two months, and those are just the injuries you've told me about. And for heaven's sake, don't start singing "The Barley Mow." Twenty-one verses of that, and you'll be hung over till Easter. Which happens to be April 9 this year, so please plan on getting your heathen arse to church. I'll be reminding Robert and James to look out for your soul even if you won't.

Now, I have a hypothetical question for you. If your sister were invited to fly in an aeroplane after the war with a trained pilot at the controls, would you insist on going along? I ask only because I'm debating whether I'm going to need Maggie to put the boot in or whether I can handle that task myself. It will boil down to how much of a lady I wish to be in the eyes of the aforementioned pilot.

Your loving sister,

Mavis

H=H=H=H=H

FEBRUARY 28, 1944

Dear Mavis,

Clearly the censors are lying down on the job, because I was able to read every word of your last letter. You're tormenting me on purpose, aren't you? By all means, fly away. I'll be waiting on the ground, praying for your safe return and stitching your wedding dress. And in case you think I can't, I assure you I've had more practice with those than is really quite proper for a gentleman's tailor.

I'm pleased to say that Colonel Hogan got permission for a fully sanctioned St. Patrick's Day celebration, thanks to our diligent work clearing the roads after a post-St. Valentine's Day snowstorm. The good news is that I won't have to sneak out. The bad news is that Colonel Hogan, being half-Irish, has decided to attend the event himself and has pledged to personally monitor my beverage consumption.

And yes, as a matter of fact I am planning to sing "The Barley Mow." I've determined through raw intelligence and a bit of stealth that Colonel Hogan does not know this song, and I'm betting that 21 consecutive small sips of ale will sneak up on him, putting him in a positive of frame of mind and enabling the rest of us to enjoy a rousing sing-along for a change.

Please tell Maggie she is now in the running to become my favorite sister, especially if the best one decamps. As for any references to "Robert" or "James," la, la, la, la, la. I can't hear you.

Your beloved brother who begs you to remember that you are first and foremost British,

Newkirk (which is what everyone here quite properly calls me, and I use their surnames too, thank you very much.)

H=H=H=H=H

"The Barley Mow" is a really entertaining cumulative folk song in which each verse is longer than the one before it. It requires excellent memorization skills and verbal acrobatics. Think "pub-singer-meets-auctioneer" and you've got the idea. My favorite version, by Seamus Kennedy, can easily be found on YouTube. Sorry, no luck pasting a link in here! It's become a drinking song and is often sung in Irish pubs, but it is also part of the folk tradition in England and Scotland.