Johnny Teaches College

Turhan Hatice Sultan (1627-1683)

Art by CS Frank (website)

Turhan Hatice Sultan was one of only two women considered to be official regents of the Ottoman Empire.

As a young child, Turhan Hatice was captured by the Tatars and sold into slavery. Her birth name and country of origin are unknown but she is believed to have been from either Russia or the Ukraine.  As a young woman,  Turhan Hatice was given to Ibrahim of the Ottoman Empire as a concubine.  

In 1648, Ibrahim was deposed and killed.  After his father’s death, Turhan Hatice’s seven year old son ascended to the throne as Mehmed IV.   Turhan Hatice should have also risen to power as the Valide Sultan (sultan’s mother), but she was passed over due to her youth.  Kösem Sultan, paternal grandmother of Mehmed IV, lasted only three years as Valide Sultan before she was murdered.  

Everyone I Love Is Dead

The English Have Stolen All My Sheep

You Want To Be My Boyfriend? First You Must Answer These Riddles Three

The Protestants Have Stolen All My Sheep

I Love You A Lot But You’ve Left Me And It’s Raining [fiddle solo]

The Sea Is Treacherous, Just Like The English

One Time Bonnie Prince Charlie Punched Me In The Face And It Was Awesome

* Everyone I Love Is An Allegorical Representation of Ireland

* The English Stole My Farm And Put Sheep On It

* You Were My Boyfriend But Now You Won’t Even Come To The Window To Look Upon Me And Our Dead Infant Child (In The Rain)

* Whack Fol Too La Roo Umptytiddly Good They’ve Stopped Listening Now Let’s Talk About Revolution

genres include:

I Left Everyone I Love Back Home In The Holler To Be With This Guy Who Doesn’t Wear Shoes Or Have Teeth But He Plays A Mean Jug

The English Told Us Not To Move West Yet, We Ignored Them, My Entire Family Was Killed

You Were My Boyfriend But You Tied A Sack Of Rocks To My Petticoats And Threw Me In The Creek (And My Baby Too)

Mama Loves All 14 Of Us A Lot But She’s Weary Of Our Shit And Now She’s Dyin’ (Gather Round)

The McCleans Stole A Firewood Log From Our Pile So We Won’t Rest Until The Last Of Their Male Kin Is Laid In The Cold Ground

We Knew The River Would Rise But We Still Didn’t Fix The Levee 

The River Rose, The Levee Broke, Everyone Died, It Was Just As We Reckoned (dulcimer twang-a-lang) 

When The Rebels Come A-Marchin’ I’m A Southern Man And I Feed Their Horses My Best, When The Yankees Come A-Marchin’ I’m A Northern Man And I Feed Their Horses What The Rebels Left

I think someone needs to put in a word for the English folk tradition though:

I Met a Girl and We Went Hunting (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)

I Met a Girl and We Caught Some Birds (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)

I Met a Girl and We Found Her Lost Pet (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)

I Met a Girl By Staying At Her Parents’ House and She Made My Bed (It Was an Especially Thinly-Veiled Metaphor for Sex)

I Am a Girl and I Regret Engaging In Metaphors for Sex Because Now I’m Pregnant

I Met a Girl and Bribed Her Into Sex But She Stole My Horse and Ran Away With It

I Met a Girl At an Inn and We Had Non-Metaphorical Sex But She Stole My Stuff The Next Morning and Now I Have Syphilis

Your Fiance Died Either at Trafalgar or Waterloo, Let’s Get Married, I’m Glad You Said No Because I’m Really Him In Disguise

Lord Nelson Sure Was Awesome

The Press-Gang Dragged Off All the Important Men in My Life (And Now They Are Dead)

Farm Laborers Are The Salt of the Earth And Are Never Grindingly Poor

I Went Out Riding and Noticed Mongolia

We Fought a Bunch of Guys (On Horseback)

Witness My Many Ungulates

(While On a Horse) I Met a Hot Girl Who Reminded Me of a Plant

On Three, Say What That Terrain Feature Looks Like to You (One, Two, Three, A Horse)

Witness My Many Ancestors’ Many Ungulates

I Also Enjoy Heavy Metal, Especially If It’s Made of Horseshoes

Oooorrrrweeeeuuurrrreeeeuuuuwwwwwrrrrrrrr (Is Tuvan for “Horse”)

We Must Plant the Crops, Let’s Get Drunk! 

We Must Harvest the Crops, Let’s Get Drunk!

There’s No Crops Right Now, Let’s Get Drunk!

Sex On the Beach Is Awesome, War Is Bad

There Are Ghosts in the Trees

The Japanese Exploit Us (And the Americans Do Too)

I Love the Sea, This Island Is Beautiful, War Is Still Bad

Hey, There’s an Old Man, Let’s Get Drunk!

I Am A Brawny-Armed Lumberjack Who Loves a Town Girl, Oh No!

Oh Fuck, I Slept With a Fur Trapper, What Shall I Tell Maman?

Hauling Logs, Rolling Logs, Driving Logs, All Day, What Ho!

Like Hell You’re Marrying That Good for Nothing Bambocheur!

Fetch My Gold Ring That Fell Into the Sea!  Now!

I Met A Sailor While A-Strolling, And Now We Are In Love!

I Want to Kiss the Sailor I Met A-Strolling, But I’m Afraid My Father Will Find Out!

A Spider Has Bitten Me And If I Do Not Dance I Will Die, Alas

I Am A Very Fancy Man With A Very Fancy Hat

The Cable Car Is A Thinly-Veiled Metaphor For Your Feminine Torture, O Woman

Rome Is The Very Best Place And Every Other Place Is Just Awful

I Love You, But You Are Married

I Love You, But You Are Fickle (Why Did You Dance With The Baker’s Son, Thou Vixen?)

I Love You, But You Left Me All Alone On This Romantic Wind-Swept Hillside, Which Is Actually Very Pretty, But Not As Pretty As You, Foul Temptress

Rome Is Still The Best Place And Every Other Place Can Go Right To Hell

Seriously Once You Have Been To Rome You Will Just Be Sick At The Thought Of Being Anywhere Else, You Will Pine Away And Die

I Love You, But You Are Dead (Or Maybe You Just Went To Live In A Slightly Prettier Place)

Rome, Rome, O Rome, Ah Rome, Rome Rome Rome, Have I Mentioned That I Love Rome?

Venetian Special Genres:

Women Are Like The Ocean: Salty And Full Of Drowned Sailors

Women Are Like The Ocean: I Cannot Figure Them Out At All

I Saw You One Time At A Party And I Have Designs Upon Your Feminine Virtue