For over a century the Lypiatt family have been custodians of the ‘Squid and Teapot’.  The current landlord, Rufus Lypiatt, often relates how, as a youth, his father, Spencer, was invited to join the Passamaquoddy trader, Joseph Dreaming-By-The-River-Where-The-Shining-Salmon-Springs on one of his excursions to the mainland.

At the time of this tale Joseph would have been in his late sixties. Although still fit and strong, he had been making fewer and fewer trips across the treacherous channel in recent years. The pressing reason for this latest voyage, however,was to procure a new lidded-bucket for the Night-Soil Man, Randall Middlestreet, who had recently taken on an apprentice.

 

While the pair were away the weather deteriorated badly, forcing them to spend a night in Portland. Joseph decided that this was the perfect opportunity for Spencer to be introduced to the marvel that was the Movie Theatre, which that night was screening the recently released musical film, “South Pacific”.

To say that Spencer was entranced would be an understatement. It was a once in a lifetime experience for him that he cherished until his dying day.

 

Whether or no they have seen the film, most people are familiar with the show-stopper “There is nothin’ like a dame”. It is one of those tunes that, once heard, is almost impossible to shake out of your head (except for the slightly recitative and unwhistleable bits which include a complaInt about not having a reason for putting on a clean white suit, which everyone tends to forget). So it was with Spencer. He hummed it incessantly. By the time they were back to Hopeless, Joseph was thoroughly sick of hearing it. Spencer, however, was completely hooked and decided that the islanders should all share the benefit of that catchy, but somewhat irritating, tune. Blissfully oblivious to the concepts of plagiarism and copyright, he put his own words to the main melody and sang it to anyone who would listen, or indeed, to anyone who gave every indication that they had absolutely no intention of listening. To prolong the agony, Spencer insisted on inserting the chorus after each stanza, a device that Messrs Rogers and Hammerstein wisely decided not to employ.

So – Ladies and Gentlemen, this will possibly annoy you for hours to come – or weeks, if you are unwise enough to learn the words (believe me, I know!)

I give you Spencer’s song,

‘We All Live On Hopeless, Maine’…

 

We’ve got vampires in the caverns,

We’ve got werewolves, wights and ghouls.

There are nasty things with tentacles

That drag you into pools.

We get frights from night potatoes

D’you need me to explain

Why we’ve orphans galore

On Hopeless Maine?

 

We all live on Hopeless, Maine,

(Hopeless by the sea)

There’s no reason to complain

If you’re living on Hopeless, Maine.

 

Though our ghosts are fairly harmless

Well, you just might flip your lid

If you meet the Headless Lady

In the privy of ‘The Squid’,

Or the mad and ghastly parson

And the Eggless Woeful Dane.

Spooks feel at home

On Hopeless, Maine.

We all live on Hopeless, Maine,

(Hopeless by the sea)

There’s no reason to complain

If you’re living on Hopeless, Maine.

 

There are puddle rats and dustcats,

And cephalopods to spare.

There are ravens up on Chapel Rock

And coffee that grows hair.

We have spoonwalkers with glowing eyes

That might drive you insane.

Things can get strange

On Hopeless, Maine.

 

We all live on Hopeless, Maine,

(Hopeless by the sea)

There’s no reason to complain

If you’re living on Hopeless, Maine.

 

We’ve a reverend and distiller

And a Night-Soil Man as well.

He’s the nicest guy on Hopeless

(It’s a shame about the smell).

There’re poets, whores and vagabonds

And one thing seems quite plain –

All life is here

On Hopeless, Maine.

 

We all live on Hopeless, Maine,

(Hopeless by the sea)

There’s no reason to complain

If you’re living on Hopeless, Maine.

 

So why not come and join us

We’re a really friendly bunch.

Just avoid the many dangers

Of becoming something’s lunch.

You might really love the climate

If you’re fond of fog and rain.

There ain’t that much sun

On Hopeless Maine.

 

We all live on Hopeless, Maine,

(Hopeless by the sea)

There’s no reason to complain

If you’re living on Hopeless, Maine.

We all live on Hopeless, Maine,

(Hopeless by the sea)

There’s no reason to complain

If you’re living and breathing

And not dying or leaving

Dear…old….Hoooopeless, Maaainne.

 

Thank you very much.