chansons

Sometime in middle school, I read about a movement to sanitize songs and stories for children. Damn the Brothers Grimm, fairy tales about little girls being stalked by big, bad wolves, and songs evoking the death of its tiny singers from the Bubonic plague had to go. At the time it seemed reasonable to me - why on earth should children hear horror stories? Wouldn't it just terrify them or desensitize them to violence?

Later, in a university course on French fairy tales, another theory was trotted out, one praising the cathartic process children experience when hearing their worst nightmares - death of a parent, being eaten alive by dragons, losing out in sibling rivalry - played out on an exterior palette. As long as the stories are fantastical enough, it was reasoned, and the endings conclude happily... the child will resolve his or psychological turbulence on the page. This sounded logical at the time, too.

Now that we are knee-deep in Anglo and Franco fairy tales and comptines, I am fascinated and astonished at the meanness, violence and crazy morbidity exalted in so many of the old favorites. For example:

Il était un petit navire

Il était un petit navire {x2}
Qui n'avait ja-ja-jamais navigué {x2}
Ohé ! Ohé !

Ohé ! Ohé ! Matelot, Matelot navigue sur les flots
Ohé ! Ohé ! Matelot, Matelot navigue sur les flots

Il partit pour un long voyage {x2}
Sur la mer Mé-Mé-Méditerranée {x2}
Ohé ! Ohé !

Au bout de cinq à six semaines,
Les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer / Ohé ! Ohé !

On tira à la courte paille,
Pour savoir qui-qui-qui serait mangé, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Le sort tomba sur le plus jeune,
Qui n'avait ja-ja-jamais navigué / Ohé ! Ohé !

On cherche alors à quelle sauce,
Le pauvre enfant-fant-fant sera mangé, / Ohé ! Ohé !

L'un voulait qu'on le mit à frire,
L'autre voulait-lait-lait le fricasser, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Pendant qu'ainsi l'on délibère,
Il monte en haut-haut-haut du grand hunier, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Il fait au ciel une prière
Interrogeant-geant-geant l'immensité, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Mais regardant la mer entière,
Il vit des flots-flots-flots de tous côtés, /Ohé ! Ohé !

Oh ! Sainte Vierge ma patronne,
Cria le pau-pau-pauvre infortuné, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Si j'ai péché, vite pardonne,
Empêche-les-les de-de me manger, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Au même instant un grand miracle,
Pour l'enfant fut-fut-fut réalisé, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Des p'tits poissons dans le navire,
Sautèrent par-par-par et par milliers, / Ohé ! Ohé !

On les prit, on les mit à frire,
Le jeune mou-mou-mousse fut sauvé, / Ohé ! Ohé !

Si cette histoire vous amuse,
Nous allons la-la-la recommencer, / Ohé ! Ohé !


This jolly tunes recounts the tale of a ship that runs out of victuals on the Mediterranean. When the sailors pull straws to see who'll be eaten, it lands on a child. They then must decide with what sauce they will eat the poor dear. Naturally! This is France, the land where gastronomy is a U.N. ordained cultural monument ! Fortunately, thousands of fish commit suicide by hopping aboard the ship, and the little child is saved. Whew! (We never do learn if they prepared the fish with a butter sauce or à la Provençale.)

Or how about this little ditty, in which the singer lets his interlocutor know that he will not be sharing his good tobacco with the other's nasty little self.

J'ai du bon tabac dans ma tabatière
J'ai du bon tabac, tu n'en auras pas

J'en ai du fin et du bien râpé
Mais ce n'est pas pour ton vilain nez


What could the historical significance of this be?

And finally, a song I was forced to sing out loud in a phonetics class, required by the teacher so that we might distinguish the difference between "ou" and "u." In it, a flea and a louse are playing cards when the flea, in a fit of rage at the prospect of losing, takes the louse, slams him against the floor and strangles him, thusly killing the poor bastard.

Une puce, un pou, assis sur un tabouret
Jouaient aux cartes, la puce perdait
La puce en colère, attrapa le pou
Le flanqua par terre, lui tordit le cou
Madame la puce, qu'avez-vous fait là ?
J'ai commis un crime, un assassinat.


Comments

R-M said…
Hmmm...here's one my (British) grandma would tell me:
"My mother said, I never should play with the gypsies in the wood, for if I did, she would say naughty to girl to disobey. For in the wood there sits a house, and in that house there's sits a stool and on that stool there sits a fool, and that is Dr. Elliot. Dr. Elliot is a good man, tries to teach us all that he can, like reading, writing, and arthmetic, never forgets to use his stick, for if he did without a glance, send us out of England and into France."

Probably mucked it up...but you get the gist...wonder what sort of political undertones that one has.... I've always found this a fascinating topic...are we trying to assuage the fears of children or make the topics more palatable to adults? (No pun intended on the cooking up the child reference!)
Aralena said…
Ha! Send you off to France! God forbid. That's enough to get any child in line.

It's true that a lot of tales are just as entertaining for adults as they are for children - although that's not so much the case with cartoons now, is it?

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