 |
| Twa Corbies by Arthur Rackham |
Twa Corbies
We all know the story,
Though maybe not this one exact:
A knight, a soldier,
Lost and gone.
His body rots
Under the sun.
His friends move on-
The living must-
While he, himself,
Becomes the dust
That stirs beneath
Our feet.
The hunter doth
Become the meat.
It's an old tale,
One history often reenacts.
A quick note: I'm in an odd mood tonight: dark and irreverent. I suppose that's obvious. "Twa Corbies" (or "Two Crows") is an old Scottish Ballad that is rather dark. I'm including the text for the original ballad below the cut if you're interested, or you can visit this link and read the original version, a "translated" version, and an interesting analysis. I encourage you to visit the link.
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies makin a mane;
The tane unto the ither say,
"Whar sall we gang and dine the-day?"
I heard twa corbies makin a mane;
The tane unto the ither say,
"Whar sall we gang and dine the-day?"
"In ahint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And nane do ken that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound an his lady fair."
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And nane do ken that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound an his lady fair."
"His hound is tae the huntin gane,
His hawk tae fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's tain anither mate,
So we may mak oor dinner swate."
His hawk tae fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's tain anither mate,
So we may mak oor dinner swate."
"Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike oot his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll theek oor nest whan it grows bare."
And I'll pike oot his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll theek oor nest whan it grows bare."
"Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken whar he is gane;
Oer his white banes, whan they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair."
But nane sall ken whar he is gane;
Oer his white banes, whan they are bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair."
No comments:
Post a Comment