Last edited by Incroyable (2007-02-27 16:56:44)

Good stuff, PB. I stand corrected.

That should be considered one of the iconic posts of the FNB forum.

With deep apologies to Spike Jones and His City Slickers.  I highly recommend searching out the original to get the idea of tune this is to be sung to.

Pal-Yat-Chee (Pagliacci)

When we wuz in the city we wuz wond'rin' where to go.
A sign spelled out Sartorial Excellence up in lights above a hotel.
We thought 'twould be a Western till the room lit up with lights,
An' ninety seven guys in suits without a horse in sight.
We couldn't understand 'em 'cause they spoke a furrin tongue,
But we can give you some i-dee of what we think they sung:

Ridi, Pagliaccio, Spalla camicia pronto

All at once there's a guy in a clown shirt.
Ain't Haller-ween, that's for shore.
Then this here feller, this purveyor of Panthereller,
Begins to beller -- Like we all was deef:

Ha ha ha ha ha!

That was Pal-Yat-Chee an' he sung:
Don’t get a split yoke and somethin’ or other 'bout gussets
He sung about a fabric like a super two hundred forty.
When he talks about shirts he just starts chirpin' louder
And he don't do a gol-durn thing 'cept to stand up there an' sing.

When we listen to Pal-Yat-Chee we get itchy an' scratchy.
This shore is borin’ so we go and buy some hangers.
We hate to go back but we can't git our dough back.
There ain't no use complainin' 'cause outside it's a-rainin'.
Ninety minutes pass by we're still in the dern suite nearby,
Takin' turns at nappin', a-waitin' for somethin' to happen.
Pal-Yat-Chee he ain't hurryin' but the men in suits are flurryin'
And it sounds like Kat-chee-tur-ry-in's Sabre Dance.

When ol' Pal-Yat-Chee finds the guy he's fittin'
Cheek-to-cheekin' with another tailor he grabs his shears
And stabs the jerk who stole his mark
An' then he stabs the guy and himself.

Ain't very sanitary.

They all collapse but ol' Pal-Yat-Chee sets up
Then he gets up, sings "I'm dyin',
I am dyin', I am dyin'."We start cryin'
'Cause to tell the truth we're dyin' too.
As the footlights fade out we see Pal-Yat-Chee laid out
But the tailor shears never caused it. Pal-Yat-Chee was plumb exhausted.
Ridi, Pagliaccio, Sul tuo amore'in (belch)

I heard of the Pagliacci moniker some time before I saw it on the forums, by word of mouth from people in the high-end apparel trade.

Last edited by Marc Grayson (2007-02-28 16:30:53)

Well, by those pics, I would have to say Jon Green was best dressed