Blue Bard's Thunderclap





The bard was dressed in blue, and though his face was weathered with years of travel, his voice was strong and pure.

He stood on a little slope on the village green. A hundred murmuring revelers were below him, spread out on colorful blankets. Vendors (and a few pickpockets) strolled among the throng. Cheese, bread, wine, and beer were abundant, and the sky was incandescent in the springtime sunset.

Today, mothers smiled and did not shush squealing children. Today, young lovers scooted closer on blankets, or, oblivious to the bard and the entire world, kissed with abandon.

The bard had been singing pleasant melodies, letting his audience eat and drink, waiting for them to be in just the right mood for some real shenanigans.

The time was finally right. Suddenly, he strummed his mandolin once for attention and launched into a lively chant most of them knew from time in the Duke’s service, sung on many a long march. The throng roared approval and joined in...

What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
Early in the morning?

Clap him in leg irons ‘til he’s sober,
Clap him in leg irons ‘til he’s sober,
Clap him in leg irons ‘til he’s sober,
Early in the morning.

Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Early in the morning.

Now the crowd was smiling, and even children were clapping and bellowing along with him.

What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
Early in the morning?

Scrape him up and down with a rusty razor,
Scrape him up and down with a rusty razor,
Scrape him up and down with a rusty razor,
Early in the morning.

Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Early in the morning.

A dozen shirtless, tattooed old ruffians in kilts stood up and danced in a drunken circle.

What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
Early in the morning?

Tie him to an oak tree and then you flog him,
Tie him to an oak tree and then you flog him,
Tie him to an oak tree and then you flog him,
Early in the morning.

Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Early in the morning.

The ditty went on for many more stanzas, encouraging the drunkard’s comrades to:

Hit him on the head with a bag of hammers…
Slap him on the arse with a cat-o-nine-tails…
Roll him to the pub and get him drunker…
Send him to the healer and get some leeches…

And the final stanza echoed through the village like a baudy thunderclap.

What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
What shall we do with a drunken soldier,
Early in the morning?

Lay him in bed with the Old Duke's daughter,
Lay him in bed with the Old Duke's daughter,
Lay him in bed with the Old Duke's daughter,
Early in the morning.

Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Way, hey, up she rises!
Early in the morning.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Heroes and the Jabberwock

Image
  For a long time it was assumed that the fearsome jabberwock was at last slain by a single hero. One can blame the talented - and slightly bonkers (all the best ones are) - writer Lewis Carroll. In truth, there were two heroes with vorpal blades that sealed the creature's fate. None today remember their names or stations, though some of the ancient scrolls hint that one was a ferocious knight traveling the land and helping the downtrodden - his penance for some past sin. The other was called "a pox-scarred bard whose voice was the only beauty about him." Each hero took a tooth, not the entire monstrous head, from the jabberwock's steaming mouth as a keepsake. It was said that it took a team of mules to haul the prizes home. But, since all we have is our esteemed Mr. Carrol's poem, we must pretend to change "He" to "They." Then it reads right. Jabberwocky BY LEWIS CARROLL ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: ...
Read more

Secrets of the Old Forest

Image
  The guide turned back to Ritter and said, "We are entering the oldest part of the forest. Few come this way, and many of those who do are not seen again." It looked like a normal forest to Ritter, but he drew his sword out of caution. "Nay, good Sir," the guide said. "Your sword cannot protect you from the powers that inhabit this place." The old guide threw his cloak around his bony shoulders and moved cautiously down the trail. Ritter followed, his sword still unsheathed. They walked silently, slowly for a few minutes, and the air grew warmer, more oppressive. It was like the forest was watching them, and the gaze of the trees was pressing in on them. The guide stepped lightly to the left to avoid a small mushroom on the trail's right edge, and Ritter copied him. As he did, Ritter's sword lightly grazed the top of the mushroom. He said nothing, and continued following the old man. Moments later, the trail turned to bypass a huge tree, behi...
Read more

Queen of Wands

Image
  Ulrich sat in the Seeing Lady's wagon as she lit an oil lamp. The wagon was more like a small house, in truth. It was just big enough for two curtained rooms. The main room was her public space, it seemed, with silken hangings, a folding table, lamps, and too many pillows. When he glimpsed through a gap in the linen curtain, he could see her sleeping cot and two fluffy cats: one asleep and one staring at him without blinking. "Please to be comfortable," the Seeing Lady said, pointing to a three-legged stool topped by a white pillow with a swan embroidered in red. It was also covered in cat hair. The Seeing Lady wore an elaborate, silk and linen dress and head scarf favored by ladies in eastern Salvania. Her fingernails were painted bright red to match her lips. Her eyelids were painted green. She fell into that indeterminate age somewhere between too young and too old. It seemed like eastern ladies went to a lot of trouble painting themselves each day. They sho...
Read more