Montreal Spring

*to the tune of 'Favourite Things'*

Dogshit on pavement and torched police cruisers
Increasing influx of frat boys and losers
Vast flocks of herring-gulls taking to wing
These are the signs of a Montreal spring!

When the frost bites
And the wind stings
Winter sucks my nads
I count down the months still remaining till spring
And sometimes don't feel so bad.

Overpriced festivals and stanley cup playoffs
More and more people are taking sick days off
One day you're in shorts and the next it's snowing
What the fuck do I wear during Montreal's spring?

Farewell to the language of Bo

The BBC reports that the last speaker of Bo has died, taking her language to the grave with her. We can be thankful that Boa Sr was working with linguists in the last years of her life, so corpora of data on this Andaman tongue exist. In memoriam:

On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,--
One old jug without a handle,--
These were all his worldly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the worldly goods,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.