The Keyhole in the Door

[ C ]

In the second edition, the editor hypothesized that this ballad was originally a recitation, then later set to music.  It was a reasoned guess, which seems to have proved true.  The Canfield Collection, gathered in the first months of 1926, contained this extended double-stanza text, more a recitation than a song:

I left her in the parlor,
'Twas shortly after nine,
And by some stroke of fortune,
Her room was next to mine.
Resolved, like old Columbus,
New regions to explore,
I took a snug position
By the keyhole in the door.

And down upon the carpet,
I knelt upon one knee,
And waited there so patiently
To see what I could see.
She first took off her collar;
It fell upon the floor.
I saw her stoop to get it
Through the keyhole in the door.

And down upon the carpet,
Oh, what a sight to see,
She raised her silken garments
Above each dimpled knee.
A pretty bright blue garter
On each plump leg she wore.
Oh, what a glorious vision 
Through the keyhole in the door.

Fair Doris then proceeded
To doff her pretty dress,
And then her undergarments,
Some fifty, more or less.
To tell the truth sincerely,
There may have been a score,
Of course, I couldn't count them
Through the keyhole in the door.

She then went to the fireside,
Her dainty feet to warm,
With nothing but her shimmy-shirt
To hide her glorious form.
Oh, please take off that shimmy,
And I'll ask for mothing more,
Ye Gods! I saw her do it
Through the keyhole in the door.

Then with my knuckles gently,
I rapped upon the door,
And after much imploring
I cross the threshold floor.
Fearing lest someone should see,
As I had seen before,
I hung her little shimmy
O'er the keyhole in the door.

That night I swam in glory,
And something else besides,
And on her snowy bosom,
I had a joyous ride.
And in the morning early
My tummy was so sore
As if I had been going
For the keyhole in the door.

[ D ]

	A quarter century later, "The Keyhole in the Door" is firmly established as a song.  The Indiana University Folklore Archive contains a text from Michigan specifically identified by the collector, Mary Wirick of Battle Creek, Michigan, as a "ballad," that is, a poem or lyric with tune attached.  Ms. Wirick unfortunately does not give the tune as sung by her informant, C.F. Wirick of Hudson, Michigan.

I left the parlor early, I think it was scarcely nine,
And by some happy fortune her room came next to mine.
Resolved like bold Columbus new regions to explore,
So I took a snug position by the keyhole in the door.

Then she began disrobing, took off her pretty dress,
Likewise her undergarments, some fifty more or less.
To tell the truth sincerely, I think it was a score,
I couldn't count correctly through the keyhole in the door.

And now before the fire, her little feet to warm,
And nothing but a shimmy concealed that lovely form.
Says I, "Take off that shimmy.  I'd ask for nothing more."
By God, I felt like jumping through that keyhole in the door.

Oh, you dreaming men of science, don't strain your eager eye
A-gazing at the planets that daily deck the sky.
But nature has more planets [wonders?] than all the world in
	store,
But a telescope is nothing to that keyhole in the door.

[ E ]

And finally, a half-century and half-a-world away, hasher Paul Woodford collected a full text of the ballad.


The party ended early,
Twas only half past nine,
And by some stroke of bloody good luck,
Her room was next to mine.
And so like Christopher Columbus,
I started to explore.
I took up my position 
At the keyhole in the door.
	Oh, the keyhole, keyhole, keyhole,
	The keyhole in the door.
	I took up my position 
	At the keyhole in the door.

She sat down by the fireside,
Her lily white tits to warm,
With only a nylon chemise on,
To hide her naked form.
If only she would take it off,
What man could ask for more?
By God, I saw her take it off,
Through the keyhole in the door.
	Oh, the keyhole, keyhole, keyhole,
	The keyhole in the door.
	By God, I saw her take if off,
	Through the keyhole in the door.

With soft and trembling fingers,
I opened up the door, 
With soft and trembling footsteps,
I crossed the bedroom floor.
And so that no other man could
See what I'd seen before,
I stuffed that nylon chemise up
The keyhole in the door.
	Oh, the keyhole, keyhole, keyhole,
	The keyhole in the door.
	I stuffed that nylon chemise up
	The keyhole in the door.

That night I slept in rapture,
And something else beside,
Upon her glorious bosom,
Had many a glorious ride.
That morning when I woke up,
My prick was mighty sore,
I felt as if I'd stuffed it up,
The keyhole in the door.
	Hey!

This is number 87, entered as "The Keyhole Song" in Paul Woodford, "Hash Hymns II" (Honolulu, Hawaii, 1994).  The last chorus breaks off abruptly.

G. Legman gives a considerable number of citations in documenting a history of this 19th Century British recitation which seems to have survived as a song through the 20th Century in the United States.  See his notes in Vance Randolph, Roll Me in Your Arms: "Unprintable" Ozark Folksongs and Folklore, Volume I (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 1992), pp. 538-544.  Legman is at some pains to deny this is a secondary form of "The Whummil Bore" (Child 27).