The Last Rose of Summer

The Last Rose of Summer is from a poem of the same name by Thomas Moore (1779–1852). My favorite version of it is by my imaginary babymama, Deanna Durbin. She was a Polly Purebred star of the 30s and 40s. She is now almost 90, and she retired from the movies decades ago.

The second version I've attached is longer, and in some ways a little nicer, but neither of the Celtic chicks has a voice like Deanna Durbin. Not even close. They have the benefit of two voices. It is difficult for most of us to watch the second video, as its hidden message is blatantly obvious. The viewer can't help but imagine a scenario where both Celtic chicks are mud wrestling in their panties. Some kind of evil masking or code. Who can say.

I stole that mud wrestling line from Don Imus, who told his wife (ugh) that he'd hoped to persuade her and Lis Wiehl (of Fox News) to mud wrestle in their panties.

The point of this follow-up 9/11 post is this nice song, and the words to the poem. It makes me think of that pretty day ten years ago. It was also pretty in Oklahoma City. Maybe it was clear and bright everywhere -- before they came.

September 11, 2001 was the last good day. The finale of the American Century, and end of MY favorite decade, the 90s. Now the whole world is on fire. One mess after another. Earthquakes, tornadoes, typhoons, volcanoes, and mooslums blowing up things, or shooting people without their permission. So much drama and pain caused by fussy, envious and angry people who flat out can't stand tall things.

So yeah, the song fits. It's beautiful and sad, especially if there's mud wrestling.

Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone:
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow,
When friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle
The gems drop away.
When true hearts lie wither'd,
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

Deanna Durbin

Celtic Woman

©2011 Randall P. Hodge, Esq., and Morningwood-DRK Enterprises - Prestige Worldwide