"Don't tell me what I can't do!"
- John, Walkabout
If there's one word I associate with LOST's John Locke, it's "destiny," but if there's one phrase, it's "Don't tell me what I can't do!" Here's a song reflecting that, to the tune of the Irish Rovers' I Don't Mind If I Do.
Don’t Tell Me What I Can’t Do!
You asked me to tell you my favorite phrase,
The one I’ll repeat to the end of my days,
The one that’s stuck with me like paper to glue.
It’s the seven words “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
My name is John Locke, and a hunter am I.
Some say I’m a farmer, but that is a lie.
When someone suggests it, I give him a clue
When I counter with, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
When I was a scrawny teen struggling through school,
My professor said, “Listen, John. Don’t be a fool.
You’re meant for this science camp. Sports aren’t for you.”
But I yelled at him, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
I wanted to discover who my long-lost dad was.
They found him but said to me, “Don’t think because
You share the same blood that he’ll care about you.”
But I shouted back, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
Well, I met with a woman who thought I was grand,
And I was about to ask her for her hand.
She said, “Drop your dad; he’ll just hurt you anew.”
So I had to cry, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
In need of renewal and fully prepared,
I set off for a walkabout, but one of them dared
To say that my wheels were a problem. On cue,
I lashed out with, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
Now I’m on the Island and I’ve been reborn.
I'm no longer a loser, no longer forlorn.
If you think of crossing me, let me review:
I will always say, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man.
No you don’t, ‘cause I can.
I’m a Do Anything That I Wanna Do man!
Showing posts with label 1-19 - Deus Ex Machina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1-19 - Deus Ex Machina. Show all posts
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
My Old Man's a Conman (My Old Man's a Dustman, Lonnie Donegan)
One thing we're learning on LOST is that John Locke has been manipulated many times throughout his life. But he's also manipulated others, as when he got Sawyer to kill Anthony Cooper for him. John didn't explain a thing to him beforehand. If he had, I imagine his explanation would have gone something like this, to the tune of Lonnie Donegan's My Old Man's a Dustman, as performed by the Irish Rovers. (Somehow I mixed up the last two verses when I wrote this; I guess the fourth verse always seemed more like a conclusion to me than the fifth. And I like the ending I've got, so the last two don't quite match up with the recording...)
My Old Man’s a Conman
Now, here’s a little story of many nasty shocks
That ended with my father arriving in a box.
I come to you now wiser. Richard clued me in.
We have a common rival, James. Let’s see… Where do I begin?
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
You’re capable of murder and you’ve searched for him so long.
Fulfilling your oath would help us both. Tell me, how could that be wrong?
When he and I first met, James, he led me to believe
He wanted to befriend me, but I was just naïve.
I gladly gave my kidney, for it seemed like destiny.
But when I went to see him next, he wouldn’t talk to me!
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
Now, though he had betrayed me, I mourned him when he died,
But then I spotted a parked car, and there he was inside.
He told me that he’d wronged me, and he almost seemed sincere -
Till he used me yet again! The outcome was severe.
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
I found some dirt on him one day and told him what I knew.
He said that my suspicions were unfounded and untrue.
I stood there by the window and almost bought his line -
(spoken) Then, James, he pushed me out, shattering my spine!
My old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
Now, my old man’s a conman who, one time long ago,
Seduced a lovely lady, James, and he took her husband’s dough.
(spoken) That fella was your dad.
He learned about the con
And shot his wife and shot himself and…
(spoken) James, need I go on?
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
It’s thanks to this same conman your life has been oh so sad.
So, sure as my name’s John, then, you’re meant to kill my dad!
My Old Man’s a Conman
Now, here’s a little story of many nasty shocks
That ended with my father arriving in a box.
I come to you now wiser. Richard clued me in.
We have a common rival, James. Let’s see… Where do I begin?
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
You’re capable of murder and you’ve searched for him so long.
Fulfilling your oath would help us both. Tell me, how could that be wrong?
When he and I first met, James, he led me to believe
He wanted to befriend me, but I was just naïve.
I gladly gave my kidney, for it seemed like destiny.
But when I went to see him next, he wouldn’t talk to me!
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
Now, though he had betrayed me, I mourned him when he died,
But then I spotted a parked car, and there he was inside.
He told me that he’d wronged me, and he almost seemed sincere -
Till he used me yet again! The outcome was severe.
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
I found some dirt on him one day and told him what I knew.
He said that my suspicions were unfounded and untrue.
I stood there by the window and almost bought his line -
(spoken) Then, James, he pushed me out, shattering my spine!
My old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
Now, my old man’s a conman who, one time long ago,
Seduced a lovely lady, James, and he took her husband’s dough.
(spoken) That fella was your dad.
He learned about the con
And shot his wife and shot himself and…
(spoken) James, need I go on?
Oh, my old man’s a conman. He went by Sawyer too.
Can’t bring myself to kill him, so I'll just leave it up to you.
It’s thanks to this same conman your life has been oh so sad.
So, sure as my name’s John, then, you’re meant to kill my dad!
Friday, July 13, 2007
Of Sacrificial Death and Life
Through the Looking Glass, the finale of LOST's third season, has really stuck with me this summer, and while I was contemplating what good could arise from Charlie's demise, it occurred to me that each of the seasons has essentially ended with a character laying down his life for the other castaways.
Boone's death came a little earlier in the first season, and while he failed in his aim of securing rescue with the plane's radio, his death sent John into a tail-spin of misery that ironically kept Desmond from killing himself, which might well have resulted in the deaths of everyone on the island. Granted, Jack could have saved Boone in the meantime, but it was the life-threatening degree of Boone's injuries that sent John off the deep end; I don't think he really had much chance of recovery.
At the end of season two, it certainly looked as though Desmond expected the hatch implosion to kill him, and common sense might dictate that it should have. But he survived, only to appoint himself Charlie's personal savior but ultimately lead him to his own sacrificial death. Now we're all scratching our heads and wondering whether there really was a point to it, but I suspect the positive ripples from Charlie's heroism will one day be as evident as Boone's, though quite possibly very different than anything he might have anticipated.
Desmond is the curious link between the two, another indication of the deep significance his character has for the progression of the show. In a sense, while Boone and Charlie are condemned to die, Desmond is compelled to live, plucked from the jaws of death every time it approaches, for which he's not likely to be too grateful while calamities follow him. Why him? There must be a method behind the madness...
Of Sacrificial Death and Life
The sanctity of sacrifice
Propels the island's grim events,
For death has taken heroes twice
And spared, for reasons yet unclear,
Another who, in brave defense
Of all, dispatched the dread device
Whose purpose John, bereft of sense,
Had doubted, making doom draw near.
'Twas John who led the youthful Boone,
Whose eagerness to make his mark
Encouraged him to stay and tune
The radio. Boone's fateful choice,
Embracing risk to snatch a spark
Of hope, cost him his life, but soon
The anguished John dispelled the dark
Despair of Desmond with his voice.
And hence, though Boone could never know
The consequences of his fall,
In causing Desmond to forego
His suicide, he did as much
As anyone to save them all.
Now Desmond, in the eerie glow
Of liquid light, has ceased to call
To Charlie, just beyond his touch.
His soul has left the fragile frame
That Desmond labored to protect,
The ending of a grievous game
Whose architect he can't forgive.
And yet someday in retrospect,
When wisdom takes the edge off blame,
He'll see how martyrs intersect
As catalysts so others live.
Boone's death came a little earlier in the first season, and while he failed in his aim of securing rescue with the plane's radio, his death sent John into a tail-spin of misery that ironically kept Desmond from killing himself, which might well have resulted in the deaths of everyone on the island. Granted, Jack could have saved Boone in the meantime, but it was the life-threatening degree of Boone's injuries that sent John off the deep end; I don't think he really had much chance of recovery.
At the end of season two, it certainly looked as though Desmond expected the hatch implosion to kill him, and common sense might dictate that it should have. But he survived, only to appoint himself Charlie's personal savior but ultimately lead him to his own sacrificial death. Now we're all scratching our heads and wondering whether there really was a point to it, but I suspect the positive ripples from Charlie's heroism will one day be as evident as Boone's, though quite possibly very different than anything he might have anticipated.
Desmond is the curious link between the two, another indication of the deep significance his character has for the progression of the show. In a sense, while Boone and Charlie are condemned to die, Desmond is compelled to live, plucked from the jaws of death every time it approaches, for which he's not likely to be too grateful while calamities follow him. Why him? There must be a method behind the madness...
Of Sacrificial Death and Life
The sanctity of sacrifice
Propels the island's grim events,
For death has taken heroes twice
And spared, for reasons yet unclear,
Another who, in brave defense
Of all, dispatched the dread device
Whose purpose John, bereft of sense,
Had doubted, making doom draw near.
'Twas John who led the youthful Boone,
Whose eagerness to make his mark
Encouraged him to stay and tune
The radio. Boone's fateful choice,
Embracing risk to snatch a spark
Of hope, cost him his life, but soon
The anguished John dispelled the dark
Despair of Desmond with his voice.
And hence, though Boone could never know
The consequences of his fall,
In causing Desmond to forego
His suicide, he did as much
As anyone to save them all.
Now Desmond, in the eerie glow
Of liquid light, has ceased to call
To Charlie, just beyond his touch.
His soul has left the fragile frame
That Desmond labored to protect,
The ending of a grievous game
Whose architect he can't forgive.
And yet someday in retrospect,
When wisdom takes the edge off blame,
He'll see how martyrs intersect
As catalysts so others live.
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