Επιμέλεια: De ProfundisYa
20/4/2016
Η σύνθεση "Friday Afternoons", είναι μια υπέροχη συλλογή 12 τραγουδιών του B.BRITTEN, που τα συνέθεσε το 1933-35 για τους μαθητές του Clive House School, Prestatyn, όπου ο αδερφός του ήταν διευθυντής. Άρχισε αυτές τις συνθέσεις λίγο καιρό μετά την αποφοίτησή του από το Royal College of Music, λίγο πριν τα 20τά του γενέθλια. Η επιλογή των κειμένων είναι από την ανθολογία του Walter de la Mare.
Τα τραγούδια:
1. "Begone, Dull Care" (Anon.)
2. "A Tragic Story" (Thackeray) l
3. "Cuckoo!" (Anon.)
4. "Ee-Oh!" (Anon.)
5. "A New Year Carol" (Anon.)
6. "There Was a Man of Newington" (Anon.)
7. "Fishing Song" (Izaak Walton)
8. "The Useful Plough" (Anon.)
9. "Jazz-Man" (Eleanor Farjeon)
10. "There Was a Monkey" (Anon.)
11. "Old Abram Brown" (Anon.)
Begone, dull care! I prithee begone from me!
Begone, dull care! you and I shall never agree.
Long time hast thou been tarrying here
And fain thou woulds't me kill,
But, i' faith, dull care,
Thou never shall have my will.
Too much care will make a young man turn grey,
And too much care will turn an old man to clay.
My wife shall dance and I will sing
And merrily pass the day
For I hold it one of the wisest things
To drive dull care away.
There liv'd a sage in days of yore
And he a handsome pigtail wore
But wonder'd much and sorrow'd more,
Because it hung behind him.
He mus'd upon this curious case,
And swore he'd change the pigtail's place,
And have it hanging at his face
Not dangling there behind him
Says he, "The mystery I've found, --
I'll turn me round," --
He turn'd round,
But still it hung behind him.
Then round and round, and out and in,
All day the puzzled sage did spin;
In vain -- it matter'd not a pin --
The pigtail hung behind him.
And right and left, and round about,
And up and down, and in and out,
He turn'd, but still the pigtail stout
Hung steadily behind him.
And though his efforts never slack,
And though he twist, and twirl, and take,
Alas, still faithful to his back,
The pigtail hangs behind him.
Cuckoo, Cuckoo, what do you do?
"In April I open my bill;
In May I sing night and day;
In June I change my tune
In July Far far I fly;
In August away I must."
Cuckoo, Cuckoo!
The fox and his wife they had a great strife,
They never eat mustard in all their whole life;
They eat their meat without fork or knife,
And lov'd to be picking a bone, ee-oh!
The fox jump'd up on a moonlight night;
The stars they were shining, and all things bright;
"O-ho!" said the fox, "It's a very fine night,
For me to go through the town, ee-oh!"
The fox, when he came to yonder stile,
He lifted his lugs' and he listen'd a while!
"Oh, ho!" said the fox, 'it's a very short mile
From this unto yonder wee town, ee-oh!"
The fox when he came to the farmer's gate,
Who should he see but the farmer's drake;
"I love you well for your master's sake
And long to be picking your bone, ee-oh!"
The grey goose she ran round the farmer's stack,'
"Oh, ho!" said the fox, "you are plump and fat;
You'll grease my beard and ride on my back,
From this into yonder wee town, ee-oh!"
The farmer's wife she jump'd out of bed,
And out of the window she popp'd her head!
"Oh, husband! oh, husband! The geese are all dead,
For the fox has been through the town, ee-oh!"
The farmer he loaded his pistol with lead,
And shot the old rogue of a fox through his head;
"Ah, ha!" said the farmer, "I think you're quite dead;
And no more you'll trouble the town, ee-oh!"
Here we bring new water from the well so clear
For to worship God with, this happy New Year
Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, the water and the wine;
The seven bright gold wires and the bugles that do shine.
Sing reign of Fair Maid, with gold upon her toe,
Open you the West Door, and turn the Old Year go.
Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, etc.
Sing reign of Fair Maid, with gold upon her chin,
Open you the East Door, and let the New Year in.
Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, etc.
I mun be married [a]1 Sunday,
Whosoever shall come that way,
I mun be married a Sunday.
Roister Doister is my name,
A lusty brute I am the same,
I mun be married a Sunday.
Christian Custance have I found,
A widow worth a thousand pound,
I mun be married a Sunday.
Custance is as sweet as honey,
I her lamb and she my coney;
I mun be married a Sunday.
When we shall make our wedding feast,
There shall be cheer for man and beast;
I mun be married a Sunday.
There was a man of Newington,
And he was wondrous wise,
He jump'd into a quickset hedge,
And scratch'd out both his eyes.
But when he saw his eyes were out,
With all his might and main
He jump'd into another hedge,
And scratch'd them in again.
Oh, the gallant fisher's life,
It is the best of any!
'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis belov'd of many;
Other joys. are but toys;
Only this lawful is,
For our skill breeds no ill,
But content and pleasure.
In a morning up we rise,
'Ere Aurora's peeping.
Drink a cup to wash our eyes,
Leave the sluggard sleeping;
Then we go to and fro,
With our knacks at our backs,
To such streams as the Thames
If we have the leisure.
If the sun's excessive heat,
Makes our bodies swelter,
To an osier hedge we get
For a friendly shelter:
Where in a dyke, perch or pike,
Roach or dace we go chase;
Bleak or gudgeon without grudging;
We are still contented.
It is the best of any!
'Tis full of pleasure, void of strife,
And 'tis belov'd of many;
Other joys. are but toys;
Only this lawful is,
For our skill breeds no ill,
But content and pleasure.
In a morning up we rise,
'Ere Aurora's peeping.
Drink a cup to wash our eyes,
Leave the sluggard sleeping;
Then we go to and fro,
With our knacks at our backs,
To such streams as the Thames
If we have the leisure.
If the sun's excessive heat,
Makes our bodies swelter,
To an osier hedge we get
For a friendly shelter:
Where in a dyke, perch or pike,
Roach or dace we go chase;
Bleak or gudgeon without grudging;
We are still contented.
A country life is sweet,
In moderate cold and heat,
To walk in the air, how pleasant and fair,
In ev'ry field of wheat.
The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers
And ev'ry meadow's brow;
So that, I say, no courtier may
Compare with them who clothe in grey,
And follow the useful plough.
They rise with the morning lark,
And labour till almost dark,
Then folding their sheep, they hasten to sleep,
While ev'ry pleasant park,
Next morning is ringing with birds that are singing,
On each green tender bough;
With what content and merriment,
Their days are spent, whose minds are bent,
To follow the useful plough.
In moderate cold and heat,
To walk in the air, how pleasant and fair,
In ev'ry field of wheat.
The fairest of flowers adorning the bowers
And ev'ry meadow's brow;
So that, I say, no courtier may
Compare with them who clothe in grey,
And follow the useful plough.
They rise with the morning lark,
And labour till almost dark,
Then folding their sheep, they hasten to sleep,
While ev'ry pleasant park,
Next morning is ringing with birds that are singing,
On each green tender bough;
With what content and merriment,
Their days are spent, whose minds are bent,
To follow the useful plough.
....
There was a monkey climb'd up a tree,
When he fell down, then down fell he.
There was a crow sat on a stone
When he was gone, then there was none.
There was an old wife did eat an apple,
When she'd ate two, she'd ate a couple.
There was a horse a-going to the mill,
When he went on, he stood not still.
There was a butcher cut his thumb,
When it did bleed, the blood did come.
There was a lackey ran a race
When he ran fast, he ran apace.
There was a cobbler clouting shoon
When they were mended. they were done.
There was a chandler making candle
When he them strip, he did them handle
There was a navy went into Spain,
When it return'd it came again.
When he fell down, then down fell he.
There was a crow sat on a stone
When he was gone, then there was none.
There was an old wife did eat an apple,
When she'd ate two, she'd ate a couple.
There was a horse a-going to the mill,
When he went on, he stood not still.
There was a butcher cut his thumb,
When it did bleed, the blood did come.
There was a lackey ran a race
When he ran fast, he ran apace.
There was a cobbler clouting shoon
When they were mended. they were done.
There was a chandler making candle
When he them strip, he did them handle
There was a navy went into Spain,
When it return'd it came again.
Old Abram Brown is dead and gone,
You'll never see him more.
He used to wear a long brown coat
That button'd up before,
And on his feet two silver shoon
And buckles by the score.
Old Abram Brown is dead and gone.
Never, never, never more.
You'll never see him more.
He used to wear a long brown coat
That button'd up before,
And on his feet two silver shoon
And buckles by the score.
Old Abram Brown is dead and gone.
Never, never, never more.
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