Or reason # 235 why Sarah ended up QUITE warped.
When I was reading Tess D’Ubervilles, there was some line to the effect that the working poor are rocked to sleep with stories of disgrace and misfortune. If that’s the case I’m not sure what being rocked to sleep with medieval ballads makes one. I do know I was a sickly child, and my parents went through everything they knew from music hall songs to medieval ballads, to keep me from crying.
I thought it might be interesting to translate these. This one should probably be "the mower" since scyther doesn’t really exist in the dictionary. Indulge me however. The last thing I want to imagine is that this is about garden machinery.
This exists in many versions — at least I’ve seen two printed that do not accord with the one I learned from family. And I’m not going to lie and say it was transmitted orally in my family from the beginning. Chances are slim. we are a literate family and as such our knowledge comes from books as well as from speech. However it came to me, here it is. And to quote Pratchett you know the moment you’re dealing with a bastard daughter and St. John’s (The summer solstice) you’re in for some… interesting stuff.
A further note — I didn’t really try to rhyme, because that goes beyond my abilities in English. I’m none too hot with meter in English, for that matter. I just tried to get the flavor and sense of it. And the story, of course.
Oh the great ruler of Rome
He had a bastard daughter
Whom indulged so much
That she had grown quite improper
Noblemen, dukes and earls
Men of the cloak and of the sword
All came begging for her hand
And all she denied with a word
According To Hoyt 