Elm's Inheritance, a song
Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2005 6:49 pm
Elm Terese recently returned to Silverymoon after spending her teen years with her country cousins. Where her family's store, 'Plain and Fancy Cloth,' used to be, she found a package, wrapped in cloth of a festive Jacquard weave depicting elm trees, willow branches and lutes. Inside was a song, written in a trained hand and scored for lute.
The Willow Tree
Oh, when I was a single man I traveled to and fro
My lute earned me a coin or two wherever I would go
I wandered up and down the land and led a life so free
I never thought I'd settle down beneath the willow tree
The willow she is graceful and the willow she is fair
And when perchance she caught my glance I let it linger there
I thought I'd stay for just a day, or maybe two or three
I never thought I'd settle down beneath the willow tree
The willow let her roots grow deep beneath the silvery moon
And many a bard sat in her shade to please her with a tune
The greatest bards in all the land, and yet she smiled on me
And that is why I settled down beneath the willow tree.
Elm almost put the song aside, after all, she'd grown up hearing it over and over. It always made her rather serious mother giggle.
Our daughter now is almost grown beneath the silvery moon
And specks of white bedeck my beard, my lute is out of tune
For years I've strung a loom instead to gain security
And pleasant rest beneath the shade of my own true willow tree
"Oh wife, my wife, my willowy wife, do come along with me
Our seed is firmly planted now, so we two can be free
We'll travel down the river for a month or two or three
And I will tune my lute again to sing love songs to thee"
Elm remembered those two verses as well, written when she left for her Uncle's farm six years ago. Then her mother had answered "I'll think about it." Early last year her father wrote, "She's still thinking. Whatever the druids say, I know Willow won't bend." The last verse was written without a tune, in a different yet familiar hand.
"Oh, bard, my bard, my faithful bard, for years you've pestered me
To leave my city and my loom and travel far with thee
The goddess that our daughter serves will keep her well and wise
And if your months turn into years, that won't be a surprise."
The song was signed, "With love, Julian Terese, Willow Ashdottir."
Elm giggled as she read the last verse, then sat for a long time sorting out her feelings - joy for her father, relief that her mother had finally decided to indulge her hidden playfulness, pride that both felt their daughter could take care of herself now. Yes, she decided, she felt good about their decision to travel. As she was about to wrap the manuscript, she saw the tear that had fallen on her mother's name. She quickly blotted it and went looking for a place to sleep.
The Willow Tree
Oh, when I was a single man I traveled to and fro
My lute earned me a coin or two wherever I would go
I wandered up and down the land and led a life so free
I never thought I'd settle down beneath the willow tree
The willow she is graceful and the willow she is fair
And when perchance she caught my glance I let it linger there
I thought I'd stay for just a day, or maybe two or three
I never thought I'd settle down beneath the willow tree
The willow let her roots grow deep beneath the silvery moon
And many a bard sat in her shade to please her with a tune
The greatest bards in all the land, and yet she smiled on me
And that is why I settled down beneath the willow tree.
Elm almost put the song aside, after all, she'd grown up hearing it over and over. It always made her rather serious mother giggle.
Our daughter now is almost grown beneath the silvery moon
And specks of white bedeck my beard, my lute is out of tune
For years I've strung a loom instead to gain security
And pleasant rest beneath the shade of my own true willow tree
"Oh wife, my wife, my willowy wife, do come along with me
Our seed is firmly planted now, so we two can be free
We'll travel down the river for a month or two or three
And I will tune my lute again to sing love songs to thee"
Elm remembered those two verses as well, written when she left for her Uncle's farm six years ago. Then her mother had answered "I'll think about it." Early last year her father wrote, "She's still thinking. Whatever the druids say, I know Willow won't bend." The last verse was written without a tune, in a different yet familiar hand.
"Oh, bard, my bard, my faithful bard, for years you've pestered me
To leave my city and my loom and travel far with thee
The goddess that our daughter serves will keep her well and wise
And if your months turn into years, that won't be a surprise."
The song was signed, "With love, Julian Terese, Willow Ashdottir."
Elm giggled as she read the last verse, then sat for a long time sorting out her feelings - joy for her father, relief that her mother had finally decided to indulge her hidden playfulness, pride that both felt their daughter could take care of herself now. Yes, she decided, she felt good about their decision to travel. As she was about to wrap the manuscript, she saw the tear that had fallen on her mother's name. She quickly blotted it and went looking for a place to sleep.
I liked that aspect on 'pine for we' too... the play on Elm and Willow... but the grammar is questionable, true. Make any changes you feel comfortable with... hehe... you know your folks better than I do. I was just playin' around with it. 