As we all gather ’round the campfire (well, our patio fire pit) we launch into singing that popular refrain.
It wasn’t popular in our house until about thirty minutes ago. We had established that a song with that name — my name, misspelled — is a traditional folk song. We debated whether the lyrics included “Get along home…” or the alternative version, “Get on home…” It was covered by Elvis, Johnny Cash, and even The Mormon Tabernacle Choir to name a few.
Apparently, according to a number of Google entries, the song lyrics serve to remind us Cindy was so sweet that the honeybees swarmed around her mouth. Really? Ick! I take it the bees suspended their inclination to sting while making maneuvers around Cindy’s lips. It wouldn’t do to wind up with swollen lips. Although some women, not even named Cindy, pay a fortune to have a plastic surgeon inject into their lips a substance that will produce similar results to what Cindy might have gotten for merely being sweet.
“Get along home Cindy Cindy, I’ll marry you some day.” Well, that part sounds promising. But, how about this? There is a version that ends with one phrase that defies all things sentimental where this song is concerned. You thought the honeybees swarming around Cindy’s mouth came off as a bit strange?
My Cindy is a pretty girl
My Cindy is a peach;
She throws her arms around my neck
And hangs on like a leech.
Never give rhyming jobs to someone from the swamps.