Package: fortunes-off
Version: 1:1.99.1-6
Severity: normal
Tags: patch
fortunes-off contains the following fortune in its songs-poems section:
Now of a maid, I'll sing a song,
Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
Now of a maid, I'll sing a song, She didn't like her Uncle Zeke,
Who didn't keep her family long. Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin,
Not only did she do them wrong, She didn't like her Uncle Zeke,
She did every one of them in, them in, And so she drowned him in the
creek.
She did every one of them in. The water we had was bad for a
week,
So we had to make do with gin,
with gin,
She weighted her father down with stones. We had to make do with gin.
Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
She weighted her father down with stones, Her mother she could never
stand,
And sent him off to Davy Jones. Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
All that we ever found were bones, Her mother she could never
stand,
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin, And so a cyanide soup she
planned.
Occasional pieces of skin. Her mother died with the spoon in
her hand,
And her face in a hideous grin,
a grin.
She set her sister's hair on fire, Her face in a hideous grin.
Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
She set her sister's hair on fire, One day, when she had nothing
to do,
And as the smoke and flames grew higher, Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
She danced around the funeral pyre, One day, when she had nothing
to do,
Playing the violin, -olin, She cut her baby brother in two,
Playing the violin. And served him up as an Irish
stew,
And invited the neighbors in,
-bors in,
And when at last the police came by, Invited the neighbors in.
Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
And when, at last, the police came by, For to do so she would have to
lie,
Her little pranks she did nor deny, And lying, she knew, was a sin,
a sin,
Lying she knew was a sin.
-- "Rikkity-tikkity-tin"
This is an incorrect version of "The Irish Ballad" whose lyrics are:
About a maid I'll sing a song
Sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one of them in.
One morning in a fit of pique
Sing rickety tickety tin
One morning in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin, with gin
We had to make do with gin
Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety tickety tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide soup she planned
The mother died with the spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
He face in a hideous grin.
She weighted her brother down with stones
Sing rickety tickety tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davey Jones
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin.
She set her sister's hair on fire
Sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playing a violin, olin
Playing a violin.
One day she had nothing to do
Sing rickety tickety tin
One day she had nothing to do
She cut her baby brother in two
And served him up as an Irish stew
And invited the neighbors in, bors in
Invited the neighbors in.
And when at last the police came by
Sing rickety tickety tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she did not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
And lying she knew was a sin.
And just one thing before I go
Sing rickety tickety tin
And just one thing before I go
There's something I think that you ought to know
They had no proof, so they let her go
And they say that she's tall and thin, and thin
They say that she's tall and thin.
My tragic tale I won't prolong
Sing rickety tickety tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
I hope you lile my little song
You've yourself to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin.
The lyrics are taken from http://sniff.numachi.com/pages/tiRICTICTN.html
An recording of the song that confirms these lyrics
can be found on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxuLAuVc4qQ
-- System Information:
Debian Release: wheezy/sid
APT prefers unstable
APT policy: (500, 'unstable'), (1, 'experimental')
Architecture: amd64 (x86_64)
Foreign Architectures: i386
Kernel: Linux 3.2.0-4-amd64 (SMP w/8 CPU cores)
Locale: LANG=en_GB.UTF-8, LC_CTYPE=en_GB.UTF-8 (charmap=UTF-8)
Shell: /bin/sh linked to /bin/dash
Versions of packages fortunes-off depends on:
ii fortunes 1:1.99.1-6
Versions of packages fortunes-off recommends:
ii fortune-mod 1:1.99.1-6
fortunes-off suggests no packages.
-- no debconf information
diff -Nru fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/changelog fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/changelog
--- fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/changelog 2012-07-27 20:48:26.000000000 +0300
+++ fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/changelog 2012-11-25 12:17:24.000000000 +0200
@@ -1,3 +1,10 @@
+fortune-mod (1:1.99.1-6.1) UNRELEASED; urgency=low
+
+ * Non-maintainer upload.
+ * Fix lyrics to Tom Lehrer's "The Irish Ballad"
+
+ -- Marius Gavrilescu <mar...@ieval.ro> Sun, 25 Nov 2012 12:17:06 +0200
+
fortune-mod (1:1.99.1-6) unstable; urgency=low
* QA upload.
diff -Nru fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/series fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/series
--- fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/series 2012-07-07 20:21:44.000000000 +0300
+++ fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/series 2012-11-25 12:17:52.000000000 +0200
@@ -9,3 +9,4 @@
search_LOCFORTDIR_even_if_LANG_not_set.diff
remove_backspaces.diff
rochefoucauld.diff
+the-irish-ballad.patch
diff -Nru fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/the-irish-ballad.patch fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/the-irish-ballad.patch
--- fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/the-irish-ballad.patch 1970-01-01 02:00:00.000000000 +0200
+++ fortune-mod-1.99.1/debian/patches/the-irish-ballad.patch 2012-11-25 12:18:15.000000000 +0200
@@ -0,0 +1,113 @@
+Index: fortune-mod-1.99.1/datfiles/off/unrotated/songs-poems
+===================================================================
+--- fortune-mod-1.99.1.orig/datfiles/off/unrotated/songs-poems 2012-11-25 12:16:54.000000000 +0200
++++ fortune-mod-1.99.1/datfiles/off/unrotated/songs-poems 2012-11-25 12:18:10.232628340 +0200
+@@ -1325,36 +1325,78 @@
+ Little, skinny, cute ones,
+ Watch how they wiggle and they squirm.
+ %
+-Now of a maid, I'll sing a song,
+-Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
+-Now of a maid, I'll sing a song, She didn't like her Uncle Zeke,
+-Who didn't keep her family long. Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin,
+-Not only did she do them wrong, She didn't like her Uncle Zeke,
+-She did every one of them in, them in, And so she drowned him in the creek.
+-She did every one of them in. The water we had was bad for a week,
+- So we had to make do with gin, with gin,
+-She weighted her father down with stones. We had to make do with gin.
+-Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
+-She weighted her father down with stones, Her mother she could never stand,
+-And sent him off to Davy Jones. Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
+-All that we ever found were bones, Her mother she could never stand,
+-And occasional pieces of skin, of skin, And so a cyanide soup she planned.
+-Occasional pieces of skin. Her mother died with the spoon in her hand,
+- And her face in a hideous grin, a grin.
+-She set her sister's hair on fire, Her face in a hideous grin.
+-Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
+-She set her sister's hair on fire, One day, when she had nothing to do,
+-And as the smoke and flames grew higher, Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
+-She danced around the funeral pyre, One day, when she had nothing to do,
+-Playing the violin, -olin, She cut her baby brother in two,
+-Playing the violin. And served him up as an Irish stew,
+- And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,
+-And when at last the police came by, Invited the neighbors in.
+-Sing, rikkity-tikkity-tin.
+-And when, at last, the police came by, For to do so she would have to lie,
+-Her little pranks she did nor deny, And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin,
+- Lying she knew was a sin.
+- -- "Rikkity-tikkity-tin"
++About a maid I'll sing a song
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++About a maid I'll sing a song
++Who didn't have her family long
++Not only did she do them wrong
++She did every one of them in, them in
++She did every one of them in.
++
++One morning in a fit of pique
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++One morning in a fit of pique
++She drowned her father in the creek
++The water tasted bad for a week
++And we had to make do with gin, with gin
++We had to make do with gin
++
++Her mother she could never stand
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++Her mother she could never stand
++And so a cyanide soup she planned
++The mother died with the spoon in her hand
++And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
++He face in a hideous grin.
++
++She weighted her brother down with stones
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++She weighted her brother down with stones
++And sent him off to Davey Jones
++All they ever found were some bones
++And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
++Occasional pieces of skin.
++
++She set her sister's hair on fire
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++She set her sister's hair on fire
++And as the smoke and flame rose higher
++Danced around the funeral pyre
++Playing a violin, olin
++Playing a violin.
++
++One day she had nothing to do
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++One day she had nothing to do
++She cut her baby brother in two
++And served him up as an Irish stew
++And invited the neighbors in, bors in
++Invited the neighbors in.
++
++And when at last the police came by
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++And when at last the police came by
++Her little pranks she did not deny
++To do so she would have had to lie
++And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
++And lying she knew was a sin.
++
++And just one thing before I go
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++And just one thing before I go
++There's something I think that you ought to know
++They had no proof, so they let her go
++And they say that she's tall and thin, and thin
++They say that she's tall and thin.
++
++My tragic tale I won't prolong
++Sing rickety tickety tin
++My tragic tale I won't prolong
++I hope you lile my little song
++You've yourself to blame if it's too long
++You should never have let me begin, begin
++You should never have let me begin.
++ -- Tom Lehrer, "The Irish Ballad" (Rickety Tickety Tin)
+ %
+ O! If I were a fish
+ I'd lay hap'ly on my dish.
