The Queen she sent to look for me,
The sergeant he did say,
‘Young man, a soldier will you be
For thirteen pence a day?’
For thirteen pence a day did I
Take off the things I wore,
And I have marched to where I lie,
And I shall march no more.
My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
My blood runs all away,
So now I shall not die in debt
For thirteen pence a day.
To-morrow after new young men
The sergeant he must see,
For things will all be over then
Between the Queen and me.
And I shall have to bate my price,
For in the grave, they say,
Is neither knowledge nor device
Nor thirteen pence a day.
The sergeant he did say,
‘Young man, a soldier will you be
For thirteen pence a day?’
For thirteen pence a day did I
Take off the things I wore,
And I have marched to where I lie,
And I shall march no more.
My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
My blood runs all away,
So now I shall not die in debt
For thirteen pence a day.
To-morrow after new young men
The sergeant he must see,
For things will all be over then
Between the Queen and me.
And I shall have to bate my price,
For in the grave, they say,
Is neither knowledge nor device
Nor thirteen pence a day.
envoyé par Bartleby - 26/10/2011 - 15:46
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Nella raccolta “Last Poems”
Una poesia messa in musica da diversi compositori, come John Addison, John Jeffreys, Oskar Morawetz e John Ramsden Williamson (The Lied, Art Song, and Choral Texts Archive)
Dal libro dell’Ecclesiaste (Qoelet), capitolo 9, versetto 10: “Tutto ciò che trovi da fare, fallo finché ne sei in grado, perché non ci sarà né attività, né ragione, né scienza, né sapienza giù negli inferi, dove stai per andare”, né tanto meno quei miserabili 13 penny di paga giornaliera che la regina ti promise, povero soldatino, per andare a combattere, in cambio della tua vita.