ONE MAN’S SONG IS ANOTHER MAN’S FAIRY TALE, I SUPPOSE…
October 9, 2025.jpg)
I recently ran across a short but interesting observation by a fellow who, from the sound of it, shares with Yours Truly a certain love for both fantasy fiction and certain examples of pop music…
The individual in question wrote that he is “fascinated by modern songs that could be fairy stories.” In other words, he reimagines songs that he enjoys listening to by turning the stories told in those songs into tales one might expect to find in the old legends from Irish folklore, or the collected works of Tolkien or the Brothers Grimm…
He even provided several examples of some of his personal reimagining of such songs… starting with the rock and roll classic “Hotel California” by The Eagles, for which he provided the following reworked synopsis: “Man stumbles across strange hotel at night which is actually a fairy hill. Sees many strange things. Can never leave.”
From there he turned his attention from rock to country by offering up a new interpretation of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” - describing this tune as the story of a “mortal woman contesting with a Leannán sidhe (fairy lover) for the mortal woman’s husband.”
And then there was his reimagining of “House of the Rising Sun” - the classic, oft-recorded traditional folk ballad that became a huge hit in the 1960s for the British rock band The Animals - which he essentially re-interpreted as the tale of a sort of portal that shifts from one dimension to the next, ruining the lives of countless unwary visitors along the way.
(Which, now that I think about it, COULD mean that the House of the Rising Sun and the Hotel California might actually be the same place…)
Being a fan of such strange considerations from way back - beginning, I suppose, when I was but a wee nipper of 9 or 10 and tried to convince my younger brothers that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were in fact merely legends built around legends about a single entity, a shape-shifting alien from the planet Kasmerzak - I actually found this fellow’s reinterpretations of these classic songs quite entertaining.
Which, as so often happens - more often than my poor wife and family would probably care to admit, in fact - got me to dreaming up some of my own “fairy tale/ancient legend” versions of a few of my favorite tunes…
Consider, for example, one of the Beatles’ greatest hits - “A Hard Day’s Night” - reimagined as a story out of Grimm’s Fairy Tales:
In a distant land, a young prince named John (EDITOR'S NOTE: named for Mr. Lennon, NOT for Mr. Small) found himself on a quest to return home before the night fell. The sun was setting, and the shadows grew long, casting an eerie chill over the kingdom. As John journeyed, he encountered a group of mischievous dwarves who challenged him to a game of riddles, promising safe passage if he could answer them all.
With each riddle, the dwarves tested John's wit and courage, and as the night deepened, the prince grew weary. Yet, he persevered, knowing that a hard day's night lay ahead if he was to reach his castle before the moon rose. Finally, with the last riddle solved, the dwarves granted him passage, and John hurried on, his heart pounding with the thrill of his adventure.
As he approached the castle gates, the first stars began to twinkle in the sky, and John knew that he had won the race against the night. With a sigh of relief, he stepped into the warm embrace of his home - knowing that the hard day's night had been well worth the journey…
From there I turned my attention to one of the best-loved compositions of one of my favorite folk-rock balladeers, “Cat’s In The Cradle” by Harry Chapin, which I reimagined as a legend from ancient Greece:
In the Golden Age of Odysseus and Hercules, a great hero named Harry was celebrated for his courage and strength. Yet, in the halls of his palace, a shadow loomed - for his son Jason was growing distant, more interested in the pleasures of youth than the wisdom of his father.
As the years passed, Harry's calls to his son went unanswered, and the once-close bond between them frayed like an old rope. Jason, now a young man, was more captivated by the tales of his own adventures than the lessons his father sought to impart. In the end, as Harry lay on his deathbed, he reached out to his son - only to find that the cradle of their relationship had been forgotten, replaced by the whims of a world that moved too fast for the wisdom of the ages.
And so, the legend of Harry and Jason became a tale of love lost in the sands of time, a reminder of the fleeting nature of family bonds and the regret that can follow when they are not cherished…
Next I considered the story being told in the famous Johnny Cash song “Ring of Fire,” and tried to recast it as a tale that might have been told by J.R.R. Tolkien:
In the misty realms of Middle-Earth, a young ranger named John (EDITOR'S NOTE: Not the same John as in the earlier story, obviously) ventured into the dark and treacherous forests of Mordor, drawn by a mysterious and alluring flame that danced in the distance.
As he approached, the fire grew brighter, and he felt its heat and passion envelop him, a sensation both exhilarating and terrifying. This was no ordinary flame, but a ring of fire - forged by the dark arts of the Enemy, which promised power and love, yet threatened to consume all who dared to embrace it.
John, though wary, could not resist the siren call of the ring. It whispered to him of a love so intense that it burned like the fires of Mount Doom, a love that could either save or destroy. As he reached out to touch the ring, he felt its searing heat and knew that he was forever changed.
The ring of fire, a symbol of both love and danger, had claimed him, and John realized that he must now navigate the perilous path of passion, where the line between ecstasy and agony was as thin as a blade.
It was right around this point that my dear wife Melissa had stopped whatever it was she was doing to peer over my shoulder, apparently in the hope of figuring out just what it was I was doing.
When I told her, she cast a wary eye at me and muttered, “Well, that just sounds plumb dingy.”
I shrugged in response. “Well, yeah, I suppose it is a little,” I admitted. “But it’s actually kind of fun... it feels like the sort of thing we might have done in Dr. Finger’s creative writing class back in college.”
She pursed her lips and peered at my scribbling again, nodding with something just this side of appreciation. “Well, it DOES seem like the sort of thing you usually get a kick out of. Got any more ideas?”
“Not yet,” I answered. “But I’m open to taking requests.”
Melissa thought about it for a minute, then snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it,” she said with a grin. “Try reimagining the Kingston Trio song ‘Greenback Dollar’ as a parable from the Bible.”
For a minute there I thought perhaps she had managed to stump me... but then a light bulb went off over my head, and I quickly dashed off the following:
In the days of old, there was a man named Hoyt who sought the blessings of the greenback dollar - believing it would bring him great wealth and happiness. He worked tirelessly, hoarding his coins and counting his riches, yet his heart remained empty.
One day, a wise traveler passed through his village and spoke to Hoyt, saying, "The greenback dollar is but a fleeting shadow. True wealth lies in the kindness of your heart and the love you share with others."
Hoyt, though skeptical, listened to the traveler's words. He began to give to those in need, sharing his blessings and finding joy in the smiles of those he helped. As he walked the path of generosity, Hoyt discovered a peace and fulfillment that no amount of gold could buy.
And so, it came to pass that Hoyt, once a slave to the greenback dollar, found true riches in the treasure of a compassionate heart. He learned that the greatest wealth is not measured in coins, but in the love and kindness one shares with the world.
I handed my pad of paper to Melissa, who read the piece with an expression that was one part admiration, and one part exasperation.
“You know, your mother was right about you,” she said. “You really ARE a nut!”
Well, in my defense, I have never claimed otherwise...
(Column copyright © 2025 by John A. Small)
Posted by John Allen Small. Posted In : Unbridled Silliness
John A. Small is an award-winning newspaper journalist, columnist and broadcaster whose work has been honored by the Oklahoma Press Association, the Society of Professional Journalists, the Associated Press, the National Newspaper Association, and the Oklahoma Education Association. He and his wife Melissa were married in 1986; they have two sons, Joshua Orrin (born 1991) and William Ian (born 1996).
Mr. Small is the News Editor and columnist for the Johnston County Capital-Democrat, a weekly newspaper headquartered in Tishomingo, OK. He obtained his nickname, "Bard of the Lesser Boulevards," from a journalism colleague - the late Phil Byrum - in recognition of the success of his popular newspaper column, "Small Talk." (In addition to the many awards the column itself has received over the years, a radio version of "Small Talk" earned an award for "Best Small Market Commentary" from the Society of Professional Journalists in 1998.)
John was born in Oklahoma City in 1963; lived in the Bradley-Bourbonnais-Kankakee area of Illinois for most of the next 28 years (with brief sojourns in Texas and Athens, Greece, thrown in to break up the monotony); then returned to his native state in 1991, where he currently resides in the Tishomingo/Ravia area. He graduated from Bradley-Bourbonnais Community High School in 1981, and received his bachelor's degree in journalism from Olivet Nazarene University in Bourbonnais in 1991. The years between high school and college were a period frought with numerous exploits and misadventures, some of which have become the stuff of legend; nobody was hurt along the way, however, which should count for something.
In addition to his professional career as a journalist he has published two short story collections: "Days Gone By: Legends And Tales Of Sipokni West" (2007), a collection of western stories; and "Something In The Air" (2011), a more eclectic collection. He was also a contributor to the 2005 Locus Award-nominated science fiction anthology "Myths For The Modern Age: Philip Jose Farmer's Wold Newton Universe," edited by Win Scott Eckert. In additon he has written a stage play and a self-published cookbook; served as project editor for a book about the JFK assassination entitled "The Men On The Sixth Floor"; and has either published or posted on the Internet a number of essays, stories and poems.
He has also won writing awards from the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the National Library of Poetry. He is a past president of the Johnston County Chamber of Commerce in Tishomingo; was a charter member and past president of the Johnston County Reading Council, the local literacy advocacy and "friends of the library" organization; served as Johnston County's first-ever Americans with Disabilities Act coordinator in 1994-95; served two terms as chairman of the Johnston County (OK) Democratic Party; and has taught journalism classes for local Boy Scout Merit Badge Fairs. He is a member of the New Wold Newton Meteorics Society.
