PROLE WOMAN'S SONG
I just re-read the words of the "prole woman's" song, "It Was Only A Hopeless Fancy" today, and, as usual for the 2nd and 3rd (and Final) reading, I cried. It reminded me of many long-lost girlfriends, one fiance, and two beloved ex-wives.
I think you do your site readers a small dis-service by NOT including the lyrics of the song, which, is probably some of Eric's best poetry, even though he was trying to trivialize pop-love songs in general (See All the Beatles' Works), and I have always been a Beatles fan, though, I cannot stomach "Sir PAUL McCartney" in any worthwhile way today. I'd really love to smack him very hard in the head many times with a broomstick. I only want to hurt his head a lot, not give him a baseball or cricket bat type of concussion. I just want him to know that some of us know how badly he sold out to the forces of evil and the NWO.
But, as the American Comicly-idian-person-sellout, Dennis Miller likes to say, "That's Just My Opinion, I 'COULD' Be Wrong!!!".
a.k.a., The Mad Mutt
Greetings Mad Mutt,
I don't know what you mean by saying that I don't include the lyrics of the prole woman's song on my website. If you go to theme 37.We Are The Dead you will see they are in fact there:
"It was only an 'opeless fancy,
It passed lika an Ipril dye,
But a look an' a word an' the dreams they stirred
They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!'
They sye that time 'eals all things,
They sye you can always forget;
But the smiles an' the tears across the years
They twist my 'eart-strings yet!"
Yes, the Beatles sure did sing love songs for we proles. I have all their early albums on CD - and play them occassionally - skipping to my favourites - mainly ones sung by John. See JOHN WINSTON LENNON SMITH and BABY FACE PAUL NOT INNOCENT
Now, getting back to Eric's poetry. Did you know that at one time Orwell fancied himself as a bit of a poet? In his book KEEP THE ASPIDISTRA FLYING the main character, Gordon Comstock (Eric Blair in disguise) was "a struggling poet". By the end of the story his poem is finally finished:
"...When he had gone another fifty yards the rhyme for the final stanza of his poem occurred to him. He walked homeward, repeating the poem to himself:
"Sharply the menacing wind sweeps over
The bending poplars, newly bare,
And the dark ribbons of the chimneys
Veer downward; flicked by whips of air,
Torn posters flutter; coldly sound
The boom of trains and the rattle of hooves,
And the clerks who hurry to the station
Look, shuddering, over the eastern rooves,
Thinking, each one, ‘Here comes the winter!
Please God I keep my job this year!’
And bleakly, as the cold strikes through
Their entrails like an icy spear,
They think of rent, rates, season tickets,
Insurance, coal, the skivvy’s wages,
Boots, school-bills, and the next instalment
Upon the two twin beds from Drage’s.
For if in careless summer days
In groves of Ashtaroth we whored,
Repentant now, when winds blow cold,
We kneel before our rightful lord;
The lord of all, the money-god,
Who rules us blood and hand and brain,
Who gives the roof that stops the wind,
And, giving, takes away again;
Who spies with jealous, watchful care,
Our thoughts, our dreams, our secret ways,
Who picks our words and cuts our clothes,
And maps the pattern of our days;
Who chills our anger, curbs our hope,
And buys our lives and pays with toys,
Who claims as tribute broken faith,
Accepted insults, muted joys;
Who binds with chains the poet’s wit,
The navvy’s strength, the soldier’s pride,
And lays the sleek, estranging shield
Between the lover and his bride."
Eventually, like Gordon in "Aspidistra", Orwell realized that poetry was not his forte and he turned to prose (for which the world can be eternally thankful). But there was one poem Orwell wrote that he was very proud of. See ORWELL'S CRYSTAL SPIRIT POEM
All the best,
PS - After you've finished your third reading of "1984" you might want to read ORWELL'S OTHER BOOKS all of which I thoroughly enjoyed (even more so than "1984" which is "a bit heavy" one could say)
I humbly apologize for my confusion, and misallocated accusation. "My" prole lady begins singing her song on page 114 before Julia's arrival, but doesn't finish with the second verse until page 117 shortly after Julia's arrival at the flat. The song is later repeated on page 180 right where you have it placed. I think my personal error, once again, was in assuming that you had included the whole novel on your website. I didn't realise until now that you had not.
In HOW TO USE THIS SITE I explain that I have divided "1984" into 45 themes, each one taken from all throughout the book. Quite a bit of the story, especially in the earlier themes, is missing, including "your" prole lady singing on pages 114 and 117, as it didn't fall into any category, whereas in theme 37 it was integral to the betrayal.
All the best,
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