David Dodd (ddodd) Mon 8 Sep 03 09:29
Ramble On Rose w: Hunter m: Garcia AGDL: http://arts.ucsc.edu/gdead/agdl/ramble2.html LASF: http://www.whitegum.com/songfile/RAMBLEON.HTM
Alex Allan (alexallan) Mon 8 Sep 03 20:54
Ramble On Rose Lyrics: Robert Hunter Music: Jerry Garcia Copyright Ice Nine Publishing; used by permission. Just like Jack the Ripper Just like Mojo Hand Just like Billy Sunday In a shotgun rag-time band Just like New York City Just like Jericho Pace the halls and climb the walls And get out when they blow Chorus Did you say your name was Rambling Rose? Ramble on baby, settle down easy Ramble on Rose Just like Jack and Jill Mama told the sailor One heat up and one cool down Leave nothing for the tailor Just like Jack and Jill Papa told the jailer One go up and one come down Do yourself a favour [chorus] Bridge I'm gonna sing you A hundred verses of ragtime I know this song It ain't never gonna end I'm gonna march you up and down Along the county line Take you to the leader Of the band Just like Crazy Otto Just like Wolfman Jack Sitting plush with a royal flush Aces back to back Just like Mary Shelley Just like Frankenstein Clank your chains and count your change And try to walk the line [chorus] [bridge] Goodbye Mama and Papa Goodbye Jack and Jill The grass ain't greener, the wine ain't sweeter Either side of the hill [chorus] Ramble on Rose
from ADAN (tnf) Mon 2 May 05 14:31
Adan writes: Just a comment on the line "the grass ain't greener." Turns out it is and it's not. According to Cecil Adams (the Straight Dope), if you look at your neighbor's grass, you'll see it at a different angle than when you see the grass under your feet. Due to that angular difference, you'll see the brown soil in between grass blades, etc., desaturating the green in your own grass, whereas you see all green when you're looking at your neighbor's grass. (http://www.straightdope.com/columns/041126.html) All in all, a beautiful real-life metaphor on "truth." It all depends on your point of view... Adan
I prefer to avert my mind. (izzie) Mon 2 May 05 14:39
but the wine, Adan, the wine. Is it sweeter?
*%* (jewel) Mon 2 May 05 15:15
Probably if you are on the north side of the hill...
.006 (gmw76) Tue 16 Aug 05 11:29
Sub rosa - "under the rose" - an ancient symbol of secrecy. Cupid gave Harpocrates, the god of silence, a rose to bribe him not to betray the confidence of Venus. Hence the ceilings of Roman banquet-rooms were decorated with roses to remind guests that what was spoken sub vino (under the influence of wine) was also sub rosa.
David Dodd (ddodd) Fri 1 Feb 13 09:39
Posted on behalf of Bryan Rosenblithe: Dear David, Just a note to say I stumbled on your annotated dead lyrics site and found it immensely pleasurable. The entry on "Ramble on Rose" prompted me to write, and, if you're interested (or not, but choose to continue reading anyhow), here's my take. Ramble on Rose describes an attempt by an unnamed character to make intelligible and to seduce a love interest they do not know well by situating them in a geography of power whose parameters are delimited by the elements of music. The would be lover's protean ability to suggest limitless possibilities of experience beguiles and frightens the character, in some meaningful sense a provincial sort of fellow, who tries to make sense of it all by placing the lover within the terrain of the familiar: a "local county line" - a place with which the character is intimate - policed by a "leader of the band" - likely the character himself. "A hundred verses of ragtime" and a song "that's never gonna end" offer a chance for the lover to participate in a vision of eternal beauty, but the lover, given her ability to convey freedom, experience and consciousness in the broadest sense, finds such visions oppressive and refuses to be fenced in by her suitor. Ultimately, while the suitor fails, the attempt at seduction liberates him from what he can now see as a thin, pinched understanding of what interest, beauty and love mean, notions more appropriate for a child's nursery rhyme, which he now rejects: "good bye momma and poppa/goodbye Jack and Jill." Funny, growing up as a gay kid in the 80s, I used to think one of the reasons why I got into the Dead was that they didn't sing love songs. Now that I've lived, loved and (most importantly) lost a bit, I know that to be wrong. The best Hunter lyrics, the one's that enticed Jerry to write, talk about how reckoning the dimensions of love requires an intimacy with loss, or at least the possibility of loss, something the character in "Sugaree" grapples with. Such experience does not need to be direct; it can be acquired intersubjectively by coming to terms with the misfortune of another, as in the case of "Wharf Rat." It's tempting to transpose the seducer/seduced dyad in "Ramble on Rose" onto the performer/audience relationship. Before I went to grad school, I worked at the Carlyle in New York, and got to know Bobby Short, the legendary cabaret performer, fairly well. Even though Short's performances of timeless standards in a single venue over many decades represented the epitome of success and stability, something he knew, he was still wracked by doubt and insecurity about whether he still "had it" and could continue to "get over" with what was, invariably, a rapt audience. Although he never put it in these terms - he'd talk about not being able to sleep, especially at the beginning of a run - people who spoke with him regularly knew this to be true. A good performance, even for the most seasoned artist, requires winning over the attention of the audience. Gaining this credibility works to confuse if not collapse the boundaries between performer and audience, art and reception, placing the artist as much in the audience's power as the reverse. The connections with the Dead here don't require much spelling out. They enjoyed a similar run, sang (and in their case, wrote) timeless songs yet knew very well that "it's one in ten thousand that come for the show" even with the most exuberant of audiences. Anyhow, if you've made it this far, thanks for reading, and, most especially, thank you for putting that delightful resource online. Best, Bryan Rosenblithe
Fletchlives (fletchlives) Wed 16 Oct 13 13:36
God damn that boy hits it right on the head!
Robin Russell (rrussell8) Wed 16 Oct 13 19:40
Bryan, are you saying the song is a dialogue, with the love interest lines the verses and the seducer's the chorus and bridge? If so, I'm not sure I see it that way. I read the song as from a single narrator. You characterise the performer / audience relationship very nicely. This is, I think, the heart of the song.
Alex Allan (alexallan) Sun 21 Dec 14 06:04
There's a mention of Billy Sunday in today's UK Sunday Times review of Matthew Avery Sutton's book "American Apocalypse: A History of Modern Evangelicalism." "Among the prominent voices of the time [the outbreak of the First World War] was a fire-breathing preacher named Billy Sunday, a former player for the Chicago White Stockings baseball team, who seized on Germanys emperor, Wilhelm II, as the Antichrist incarnate. Sunday railed against the hungry wolfish huns who were also a dirty bunch of pretzel-chewing, [sausage]-eating highbinders."
David Gans (tnf) Sun 21 Dec 14 12:45
So that's who he was!!
Robin Russell (rrussell8) Mon 22 Dec 14 12:01
Highbinders! I shall have to store that one carefully for future deployment.
Nick Newlin (nickeleven) Sat 7 Feb 15 03:50
Pretzel-chewing (sausage)- eating highbinders, no less!
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