Poor skunks hardly ever show up in conversation for a good reason. Had you ever given any thought as to where does the “drunk as a skunk” idiomatic expression originate? Read along, and do not miss the note at the very bottom! Funny as a barrel of monkeys!

Q: I wonder about the derivation of “drunk as a skunk” and other skunkish expressions.

A: Through no fault of its own (or none that it can help), the unfortunate skunk has inspired many expressions, none of them complimentary.

But we believe that “drunk as a skunk,” an American expression that originated in the 1920s, is merely rhyming slang and has no real connection with skunkdom.

We say this because for more than 600 years, the inebriated have been described as “drunk as a” something-or-other, animate or inanimate. And generally the noun of comparison has little to do with alcohol consumption.

The formula “drunk as a …” began appearing in the late 14th century “in various proverbial phrases and locutions,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The original version was “drunk as a mouse,” the OED says. This is from “The Knight’s Tale” (1385), the first of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, and we’re expanding the Oxford citation to add context:

“We fare as he þt dronke is as a Mous / A dronke man woot wel he hath an hous / But he noot which the righte wey is thider” (“We act like one that is drunk as a mouse. / A drunk man knows well that he has a house, / But he does not know which is the right way there”).

We found another use by Chaucer in “The Wife of Bath’s Tale”: “If that I walke or pleye unto his hous. / Thou comest hoom as dronken as a mous” (“If I go for amusement to his house, / You come home as drunken as a mouse”).

The association of mice with drunkenness may have begun with an ancient fable about a tipsy mouse who’s rescued by a cat after becoming trapped in a vessel of wine or beer. Versions of the fable, first recorded in Latin by Odo of Cheriton in his Parabolæ in the early 1200s, was much repeated in various collections during the Middle Ages.

On the other hand, it may be that “mouse” was chosen simply to rhyme with “house.” In several songs and poems after Chaucer’s time, lines ending “drunk as a mouse” rhymed with “house” or “alehouse.”

But as we mentioned, the expression “drunk as a …” has accommodated a Noah’s Ark of animals. Since Chaucer’s time,  according to slang dictionaries, “mouse” has been joined by “swine,” “hog,” “sow,” “pig,” “duck,” “owl,” “dog,” “cat” “kit,” “rat,” “monkey,” “jaybird,” “loon,” “bat,” “coon,” “fish,” “fly,” “fowl,” “tick,” “donkey,” “coot,” “goat,” and of course “skunk.”

Humans have also joined the inebriated crew, and “drunk as a …” has included “lord,” “earl,” “emperor,” “pope,” “fiddler,” “beggar,” “bastard,” “piper,” “poet,” “sailor,” “cook,” “parson,” “porter,” and “tinker.”

And let’s not forget inanimate objects: “drum,” “sack,” “besom” (a broom), “log,” “wheelbarrow,” “top,” and “little red wagon.” We can certainly imagine a couple of those wobbling erratically.

In this long litany of inebriation, many of them hundreds of years old, “skunk” is a latecomer. The OED’s earliest use of “drunk as a skunk” is less than a century old: “O Dan, you’re drunk! You’re drunk as a skunk!” (From The Heart of Old Kentucky, collected in New Plays for Mummers, 1926, by Glenn Hughes.)

Our bet is that earlier uses of “drunk as a skunk” will turn up, because the “drunk”/“skunk” rhyme scheme had already suggested itself generations earlier. We found a couple of 19th-century examples:

“My wife she is a hateful scold, / And when I am half drunk, / She will begin to fret and scold, / And call me a dirty skunk.” (From “Soliloquy of a Drunkard,” published in the Philadelphia Scrap Book, April 26, 1834.)

“Ter see a man come home so drunk / It makes her loathe him like a skunk.” (From a temperance poem in Godey’s Lady’s Book and Magazine, January 1876.)

So much for skunks and alcohol. You asked about other “skunkish expressions,” and most of them have to do with things (or people) that are to be avoided or scorned.

Since the early 19th century, the OED says, “skunk” has been a colloquial noun for “a dishonest, mean, or contemptible person,” a usage the dictionary describes as “chiefly North American.”

The dictionary’s earliest example is about politics: “There were five skunks, who apostatized from Republicanism, within a few months back, and voted the Federal ticket on Monday last” (the Maryland Republican, Annapolis, Oct. 12, 1813).

And the adjectives “skunk-like” (1815) and “skunkish” (1831), the OED says, have meant “dishonest, mean, or contemptible” … “reminiscent of a skunk, esp. in odour or appearance” … “resembling or suggestive of a skunk.”

The word has also been a verb since the 19th century. To “skunk” someone means to defeat or get the better of (1832), as in “I skunked her at backgammon.” It can even mean to swindle or defraud someone (1867), as in “He skunked me out of $10.” Both senses are also used passively, and to be “skunked” is to be unsuccessful or to be cheated.

“Skunk” is also etymologically interesting. The animal is a native of the Americas, and its name is thoroughly American too.

As the OED says, it was borrowed into English from a “Southern New England Algonquian language.” And it’s apparently connected to the notion of a urinating fox.

Though the original Algonquian source is uncertain, the word has cousins in related languages: Western Abenaki (segôgw), Unami Delaware (šká:kw), and Meskwaki (shekâkwa), the last of which consists of the Algonquian elements shek– (to urinate) and wâkw– (fox).

In English, the word was first recorded as “squuncke” in 17th-century New England, the OED says. The earliest known use is in a list of animals likely to rob a henhouse: “The beasts of offence be Squunckes, Ferrets, Foxes” (from New Englands Prospect, 1634, by William Wood).

[Note: An Australian reader of the blog writes on June 19, 2020, with a courtroom quip attributed to the early 20th-century British statesman and lawyer Frederick Edwin Smith, 1st Earl of Birkenhead: “Smith (to the Court): At the time, my client was as drunk as a judge.  Judge (interjecting): Mr. Smith, I think you’ll find the phrase is ‘as drunk as a lord.’ Smith: As your lordship pleases.”]

Poor skunks hardly ever show up in conversation for a good reason. Had you ever given any thought as to where does the “drunk as a skunk” idiomatic expression originate? Read along, and do not miss the note at the very bottom! Funny as a barrel of monkeys!

Q: I wonder about the derivation of “drunk as a skunk” and other skunkish expressions.

A: Through no fault of its own (or none that it can help), the unfortunate skunk has inspired many expressions, none of them complimentary.

But we believe that “drunk as a skunk,” an American expression that originated in the 1920s, is merely rhyming slang and has no real connection with skunkdom.

We say this because for more than 600 years, the inebriated have been described as “drunk as a” something-or-other, animate or inanimate. And generally the noun of comparison has little to do with alcohol consumption.

The formula “drunk as a …” began appearing in the late 14th century “in various proverbial phrases and locutions,” according to the Oxford English Dictionary.

The original version was “drunk as a mouse,” the OED says. This is from “The Knight’s Tale” (1385), the first of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, and we’re expanding the Oxford citation to add context:

“We fare as he þt dronke is as a Mous / A dronke man woot wel he hath an hous / But he noot which the righte wey is thider” (“We act like one that is drunk as a mouse. / A drunk man knows well that he has a house, / But he does not know which is the right way there”).

We found another use by Chaucer in “The Wife of Bath’s Tale”: “If that I walke or pleye unto his hous. / Thou comest hoom as dronken as a mous” (“If I go for amusement to his house, / You come home as drunken as a mouse”).

The association of mice with drunkenness may have begun with an ancient fable about a tipsy mouse who’s rescued by a cat after becoming trapped in a vessel of wine or beer. Versions of the fable, first recorded in Latin by Odo of Cheriton in his Parabolæ in the early 1200s, was much repeated in various collections during the Middle Ages.

On the other hand, it may be that “mouse” was chosen simply to rhyme with “house.” In several songs and poems after Chaucer’s time, lines ending “drunk as a mouse” rhymed with “house” or “alehouse.”

But as we mentioned, the expression “drunk as a …” has accommodated a Noah’s Ark of animals. Since Chaucer’s time,  according to slang dictionaries, “mouse” has been joined by “swine,” “hog,” “sow,” “pig,” “duck,” “owl,” “dog,” “cat” “kit,” “rat,” “monkey,” “jaybird,” “loon,” “bat,” “coon,” “fish,” “fly,” “fowl,” “tick,” “donkey,” “coot,” “goat,” and of course “skunk.”

Humans have also joined the inebriated crew, and “drunk as a …” has included “lord,” “earl,” “emperor,” “pope,” “fiddler,” “beggar,” “bastard,” “piper,” “poet,” “sailor,” “cook,” “parson,” “porter,” and “tinker.”

And let’s not forget inanimate objects: “drum,” “sack,” “besom” (a broom), “log,” “wheelbarrow,” “top,” and “little red wagon.” We can certainly imagine a couple of those wobbling erratically.

In this long litany of inebriation, many of them hundreds of years old, “skunk” is a latecomer. The OED’s earliest use of “drunk as a skunk” is less than a century old: “O Dan, you’re drunk! You’re drunk as a skunk!” (From The Heart of Old Kentucky, collected in New Plays for Mummers, 1926, by Glenn Hughes.)

Our bet is that earlier uses of “drunk as a skunk” will turn up, because the “drunk”/“skunk” rhyme scheme had already suggested itself generations earlier. We found a couple of 19th-century examples:

“My wife she is a hateful scold, / And when I am half drunk, / She will begin to fret and scold, / And call me a dirty skunk.” (From “Soliloquy of a Drunkard,” published in the Philadelphia Scrap Book, April 26, 1834.)

“Ter see a man come home so drunk / It makes her loathe him like a skunk.” (From a temperance poem in Godey’s Lady’s Book and Magazine, January 1876.)

So much for skunks and alcohol. You asked about other “skunkish expressions,” and most of them have to do with things (or people) that are to be avoided or scorned.

Since the early 19th century, the OED says, “skunk” has been a colloquial noun for “a dishonest, mean, or contemptible person,” a usage the dictionary describes as “chiefly North American.”

The dictionary’s earliest example is about politics: “There were five skunks, who apostatized from Republicanism, within a few months back, and voted the Federal ticket on Monday last” (the Maryland Republican, Annapolis, Oct. 12, 1813).

And the adjectives “skunk-like” (1815) and “skunkish” (1831), the OED says, have meant “dishonest, mean, or contemptible” … “reminiscent of a skunk, esp. in odour or appearance” … “resembling or suggestive of a skunk.”

The word has also been a verb since the 19th century. To “skunk” someone means to defeat or get the better of (1832), as in “I skunked her at backgammon.” It can even mean to swindle or defraud someone (1867), as in “He skunked me out of $10.” Both senses are also used passively, and to be “skunked” is to be unsuccessful or to be cheated.

“Skunk” is also etymologically interesting. The animal is a native of the Americas, and its name is thoroughly American too.

As the OED says, it was borrowed into English from a “Southern New England Algonquian language.” And it’s apparently connected to the notion of a urinating fox.

Though the original Algonquian source is uncertain, the word has cousins in related languages: Western Abenaki (segôgw), Unami Delaware (šká:kw), and Meskwaki (shekâkwa), the last of which consists of the Algonquian elements shek– (to urinate) and wâkw– (fox).

In English, the word was first recorded as “squuncke” in 17th-century New England, the OED says. The earliest known use is in a list of animals likely to rob a henhouse: “The beasts of offence be Squunckes, Ferrets, Foxes” (from New Englands Prospect, 1634, by William Wood).

[Note: An Australian reader of the blog writes on June 19, 2020, with a courtroom quip attributed to the early 20th-century British statesman and lawyer Frederick Edwin Smith, 1st Earl of Birkenhead: “Smith (to the Court): At the time, my client was as drunk as a judge.  Judge (interjecting): Mr. Smith, I think you’ll find the phrase is ‘as drunk as a lord.’ Smith: As your lordship pleases.”]

Why Transcribe?

The reason for transcripts—are to record, to illuminate, to re-present, and to facilitate analysis. –Willow Roberts Powers, Transcription Techniques for the Spoken Word, 2.

The transcribed interview is much easier for researchers to use than an audio tape. There is value to listening to a transcript, but researchers overwhelmingly prefer a transcript for ease and speed of use. 

A corrected transcript may be more accurate and complete because the recorded works were put down in writing while the narrator was still available to clear up obscurities.  Words that are hard to hear can be checked by the actual speaker;  questions that were inadequately answered can be expanded by written comments.

You have something to show for your efforts.  A permanent record.  A monument to a life.

It’s generally expected by the scholarly community.

The Time and Cost of Transcribing

Transcribing is hard, time-consuming work.  Many people think it is also mechanical, neither challenging nor interesting.  They are, ultimately, wrong.  For those of us with an interest in human beings and language, the work of transcribing broadens our experience of speech, gives the analytical mind much more to play with than the text itself ever well, and strengthens our memory for the work that lies ahead….We talk a great deal; the opportunity to do nothing but listen is a rare treat. –Willow Roberts Powers, Transcription Techniques for the Spoken Word, 10.

You can expect to expend an average of six to twelve typing hours for each hour of recording.  Then it will have to be edited, corrected, and final editing.  The last quote I got for a transcription (2019) was $8 a transcribed page which is about $120 for an hour interview. This is something to plan for in your budget if you don’t plan doing the transcription yourself. 

If you do plan to do the transcription yourself, you’ll need to budget your time. If you have good transcription software and a foot pedal, it will still take 3-6 minutes of transcription for audio, so you can anticipate 3 to six hours for an hour of audio. Donald Ritchie recommends every interviewer does at least one transcription to understand the importance of a good quality recording. This may also encourage you to avoid “uh-huh” and other interruptions during an interview.

Why Transcribe?

The reason for transcripts—are to record, to illuminate, to re-present, and to facilitate analysis. –Willow Roberts Powers, Transcription Techniques for the Spoken Word, 2.

The transcribed interview is much easier for researchers to use than an audio tape. There is value to listening to a transcript, but researchers overwhelmingly prefer a transcript for ease and speed of use. 

A corrected transcript may be more accurate and complete because the recorded works were put down in writing while the narrator was still available to clear up obscurities.  Words that are hard to hear can be checked by the actual speaker;  questions that were inadequately answered can be expanded by written comments.

You have something to show for your efforts.  A permanent record.  A monument to a life.

It’s generally expected by the scholarly community.

The Time and Cost of Transcribing

Transcribing is hard, time-consuming work.  Many people think it is also mechanical, neither challenging nor interesting.  They are, ultimately, wrong.  For those of us with an interest in human beings and language, the work of transcribing broadens our experience of speech, gives the analytical mind much more to play with than the text itself ever well, and strengthens our memory for the work that lies ahead….We talk a great deal; the opportunity to do nothing but listen is a rare treat. –Willow Roberts Powers, Transcription Techniques for the Spoken Word, 10.

You can expect to expend an average of six to twelve typing hours for each hour of recording.  Then it will have to be edited, corrected, and final editing.  The last quote I got for a transcription (2019) was $8 a transcribed page which is about $120 for an hour interview. This is something to plan for in your budget if you don’t plan doing the transcription yourself. 

If you do plan to do the transcription yourself, you’ll need to budget your time. If you have good transcription software and a foot pedal, it will still take 3-6 minutes of transcription for audio, so you can anticipate 3 to six hours for an hour of audio. Donald Ritchie recommends every interviewer does at least one transcription to understand the importance of a good quality recording. This may also encourage you to avoid “uh-huh” and other interruptions during an interview.

Today’s Document

Some of our documents capture landmark moments in U.S. history, such as this 1783 map showing the borders of the newly independent United States.

Map of the United States of America Laid Down from the Best Authorities Agreeable to the Peace of 1783, National Archives Identifier 31491106

Others show tantalizing glimpses of everyday life in a vanished world.  One series of photographs we find particularly interesting show the people displaced by the Tennessee Valley Authority in 1938.  Here is a family picture we recently shared, showing the Glandon family in their home:

“The Glandon family around the fireplace in their home at Bridges Chapel near Loydston[sic], Tennessee. Glandon’s wife plays both the guitar and the organ.” National Archives Identifier 532689

Recently, we shared this deposition of George Rheims, from an Admiralty case for limiting the liability of the White Star Line for the sinking of the Titanic.  Rheims describes seeing the iceberg through a window in the corridor and jumping off the ship before it went down.  You can read his whole account here.

Deposition of George Rheims, National Archives Identifier 6212861

Other records are a bit fun.  Here is the death certificate of Merian C. Cooper, a soldier in World War I.  He added a handwritten note informing the Army that he was not, in fact, dead.  Cooper went on to direct the movie King Kong about 15 years later.

Death Certificate for Merian C. Cooper, National Archives Identifier 7787194

We also shared this photograph of First Lady Nancy Reagan on the set of the 1980’s sitcom Diff’rent Strokes (called “Different Strokes” in the photo’s official title).

Nancy Reagan Holds a T-Shirt During Rehearsal and Taping of Television Show “Different Strokes” with Conrad Bain, Gary Coleman, Todd Bridges, Dana Plato, and Mary Jo Cattlett at Universal Studios in Los Angeles California, National Archives Identifier 75852697

Interested in seeing more?  You can follow the Today’s Document account on X (Twitter), Tumblr, and Facebook.