Of Cabbages
It may be ambitious of me to want to sing two songs; my body has decided it's discovered the novel coronavirus, which apparently disguises itself as innocent-looking joints, plus a power outage, means I'd missed most of the last three weeks' offerings. But hope springs surprises upon the unwary.
There are actually lyrics to this out there on the Web, but I think they may have been either autotranscribed or written down by someone learning English, as the poor farmer ends up pining forever after lithely-dancing sheep, rather than Sidhe.
Of Cabbages
Mercedes Lackey
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqtwu0PqJuo
I've always been a farmer and
My heart's bound to the land.
The earth's deep roots are in me blood,
She answers to my hand.
I grow the best damned cabbages
You ever hope to see.
And once upon a moonstruck night
I watched the dancing Sidhe.
Their music came before them,
And it pulled me from me bed.
It flowed like cool wine on the breeze,
And got inside me head.
It made me drunk and sober both,
It made me sing and cry,
It made me want to weep and dance,
And dream that I could fly.
And then their voices, caroling,
Like bells, like birds, like rain.
In words I almost understood,
In joy to near to pain.
The songs were like the ones you hear
In dreams but can't recall...
That fill your mind in slumber,
But with dawn you lose it all.
And then they came so wondrous bright,
So quite beyond compare,
With starshine in their eyes
And silver roses in their hair.
Wrapped with an aching beauty,
Sweet and bitter, crystal bright.
A beauty that you' fear to see,
But fear to loose the sight.
I saw them at their dancing,
Leaping air and silver flame!
And conscious, all too conscious,
Of my clumsy mortal frame.
I watched them at their dancing,
Lithe, light-footed, full of grace,
With my legs of wood and feet of lead,
Stood rooted in me place.
I am a farmer bound to earth,
I know what I do well.
I'm mortal, and I'm common
Like the cabbages I sell.
There's virtue in a cabbage.
Even elves eat, I suppose.
But once, just once, I wish that I
Could grow a silver rose.
There are actually lyrics to this out there on the Web, but I think they may have been either autotranscribed or written down by someone learning English, as the poor farmer ends up pining forever after lithely-dancing sheep, rather than Sidhe.
Of Cabbages
Mercedes Lackey
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqtwu0PqJuo
I've always been a farmer and
My heart's bound to the land.
The earth's deep roots are in me blood,
She answers to my hand.
I grow the best damned cabbages
You ever hope to see.
And once upon a moonstruck night
I watched the dancing Sidhe.
Their music came before them,
And it pulled me from me bed.
It flowed like cool wine on the breeze,
And got inside me head.
It made me drunk and sober both,
It made me sing and cry,
It made me want to weep and dance,
And dream that I could fly.
And then their voices, caroling,
Like bells, like birds, like rain.
In words I almost understood,
In joy to near to pain.
The songs were like the ones you hear
In dreams but can't recall...
That fill your mind in slumber,
But with dawn you lose it all.
And then they came so wondrous bright,
So quite beyond compare,
With starshine in their eyes
And silver roses in their hair.
Wrapped with an aching beauty,
Sweet and bitter, crystal bright.
A beauty that you' fear to see,
But fear to loose the sight.
I saw them at their dancing,
Leaping air and silver flame!
And conscious, all too conscious,
Of my clumsy mortal frame.
I watched them at their dancing,
Lithe, light-footed, full of grace,
With my legs of wood and feet of lead,
Stood rooted in me place.
I am a farmer bound to earth,
I know what I do well.
I'm mortal, and I'm common
Like the cabbages I sell.
There's virtue in a cabbage.
Even elves eat, I suppose.
But once, just once, I wish that I
Could grow a silver rose.