As I Walked Out One Morning, Oh
When Ralph Vaughan Williams viewed
A cow, a hedge, a peasant,
He needed to intrude,
He needed to be present.
He’d watch the rustic flinging
Of the festive rural frolics,
And listen to the singing
Of the village alcoholics,
Who’d sing a song or ditty
Of Good Queen Bess or Mary,
Though it really was a pity
That their pitch was arbitrary.
There were glees at village Locals,
Which were curiously modal,
As performed by village yokels
With a beery sort of yodel.
There were songs, a trifle crude,
About shepherdess and swain,
And a ballad of the feud
‘Twixt the green knight and Gawain.
Lest this go on forever
As a folk song’s apt to do,
I’ll close this whole endeavor
With an envoi, then I’m through.
Envoi
Then Ralph Vaughan Williams took
These songs of lads and lasses,
And put them in a book
For the British upper classes.
No comments:
Post a Comment