I opened up Mark’s laptop to discover that someone in this household (I’m guessing it was one of the girls) was looking up the origin of the phrase: LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE.
I find this fascinating for a couple of reasons.
1) It’s a wee insight into the inner workings of their brain. I’m thrilled that they’re curious about language and the world we live in.
2) This kind of quickie research is a real sign of the times. When I was a kid, I don’t think I spent a lot of time wondering about things like this. And if I did, there’s no way I could easily find and answer. At the age of 13 or 15 I could have taken the bus to my neighbourhood library, talked to a librarian, found the card catalogue, flipped through the cards to find the right title, jotted down a number on a scrap of paper, made my way to the stacks, found the book (and that’s a big maybe), leafed through the pages, and read about the origins of the phrase… but having Google on board is a heck of a lot simpler, isn’t it? Especially for something that’s not really that pressing; a mere curiosity.
Here’s something that’s worth noting, dozens of websites have attributed the saying to a paraphrasing of a poem by William Blake – copied below. But this is incorrect, at least according to a few folks on Reddit. There’s a William Blake online archive and there’s no mention of this poem or one like it.
Upon a closer reading, it doesn’t actually seem like Blake at all. I doubt he would have used the word “whoppers” for starters.
Maybe the lesson here is that Google might win out of convenience, but it’s still important to remember that what we read online isn’t necessarily fact.
“The Liar” (by someone who is not William Blake)
Deceiver, dissembler
Your trousers are alight
From what pole or gallows
Shall they dangle in the night?
When I asked of your career
Why did you have to kick my rear
With that stinking lie of thine
Proclaiming that you owned a mine?
When you asked to borrow my stallion
To visit a nearby-moored galleon
How could I ever know that you
Intended only to turn him into glue?
What red devil of mendacity
Grips your soul with such tenacity?
Will one you cruelly shower with lies
Put a pistol ball between your eyes?
What infernal serpent
Has lent you his forked tongue?
From what pit of foul deceit
Are all these whoppers sprung?
Deceiver, dissembler
Your trousers are alight
From what pole or gallows
Do they dangle in the night?
