Hymns to Neptune V
“The Bridge,” by Albert Verwey (1865-1937). A. J. Barnouw, translator. In A Little Treasury of World Poetry: Translations from the Great Poets of Other Languages 2600 B.C. to 1950 A.D., op. cit., p. 788. Neptune rules sacrifice, murder, and horror; this poem illustrates all three perfectly.
They founded in the turbulent stream their bridge,
And vowed, lest peace and strength should fail the stone,
“Whose dearest comes here first must be entombed.”
The late sun scorched the mountain’s side and ridge,
When, singing, one came by who carried home
Her husband’s food and drink. And she was doomed.
They lifted her - while he stood limply by.
They placed her in the tomb-predestined hole,
And did their masonry. Her eyes bulged large.
She shrieked! this went beyond men’s foolery.
He stood there silent. Hope ebbed from her soul,
The while the masons slowly closed the arch.
“Hair,” from the musical Hair, lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado, music by Galt McDermot; copyright 1967, 1968 by James Rado, Gerome Ragni, Galt MacDermot, Nat Shapiro, United Artists Music Co., Inc. One of the archetypal traits of Neptune is hairiness. This song from the apex of the Acid Generation of the 1960s, sings its praises.
She asks me why,
I’m just a hairy guy.
I’m hairy noon and night,
Hair that’s a fright.
I’m hairy high and low,
Don’t ask me why, don’t know.
It’s not for lack of bread,
Like the Grateful Dead.
Darlin’, give ma a head with hair,
Long beautiful hair,
Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen,
Give me down to there hair,
Shoulder length or longer,
Here, baby, there, momma, ev’rywhere, daddy, daddy,
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.
Flow it, show it, as God can grow it, my hair.
Let it fly in the breeze and get caught in the trees,
Give a home to the fleas in my hair,
A home for fleas, (yeah) a hive for bees, (yeah) a nest for birds,
There ain’t no words for the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.
Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair.
I want a long, straight, curly, fuzzy, snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty,
oily, greasy, fleecy, shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen,
knotted, polka dotted,
Twisted, beaded, braided, powdered, flowered and confettied,
bangled, tangled, spangled and spaghettied.
They’ll be gaga at the go-go when they see me in my toga,
My toga made of bond, brilliant, biblical hair.
My hair like Jesus wore it,
Hallelujah, I adore it,
Hallelujah, Mary loved her son, why don’t my mother love me?
Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair.
Flow it, show it, long as God can grow it, my hair.
“Empty Saddles,” by Bill Hill (copyright 1934 by Shapiro, Bernstein, and Co.). In 1936, in the film Rhythm on the Range, in which he played the part of a cattleman turned rodeo performer, Bing Crosby introduced this classic Billy Hill song.
Empty saddles in the old corral,
Where do you ride tonight?
Are ya roundin’ up the dogies,
The strays of long ago;
Are ya on the trail of buffalo?
Empty saddles in the old corral,
Where do you ride tonight?
Are there rustlers on the border
Or a band of Navajo;
Are ya headin’ for the Alamo?
Empty guns, covered with rust,
Where do ya talk tonight?
Empty boots, covered with dust,
Where do ya walk tonight?
Empty saddles in the old corral,
My tears would be dried tonight;
If you’ll only say I’m lonely
As ya carry my old pal,
Empty saddles in the old corral.
“Auld Lang Syne”
The song, "Auld Lang Syne," playing in the background, is sung at the stroke of midnight in almost every English-speaking country in the world to bring in the new year. At least partially written by Robert Burns in the 1700's, it was first published in 1796 after Burns' death. Early variations of the song were sung prior to 1700 and inspired Burns to produce the modern rendition. An old Scottish tune, "Auld Lang Syne" literally means "old long ago," or simply, "the good old days."
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!
And there's a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!