The Land-Peter Bellamy

歌手 : Peter Bellamy

专辑 : Mr Bellamy, Mr Kipling & The Tradition

语种 : 英语

时长 : 06:29

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TXT The Land-Peter Bellamy 文本歌词

The Land - Peter Bellamy

When Julius Fabricius Sub-Prefect of the Weald

In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field

He called to him Hobdenius

A Briton of the Clay

Saying What about that River-piece

For laying in to hay

And the aged Hobden answered

I remember as a lad

My father told your father

That she wanted dreaming bad

And the more that you neglect her

The less you'll get her clean

Have it just as you've a mind to

But if I was you I'd dreen

So they drained it long

And crossways in the lavish Roman style

Still we find among the river

Drift their flakes of ancient tile

And in drouthy middle August

When the bones of meadows show

We can trace the lines

They followed sixteen hundred years ago

Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do

And after certain centuries Imperial Rome died too

Then did robbers enter Britain

From across the Northern main

And our Lower River-field was won by Ogier the Dane

Well could Ogier work his war-boat

Well could Ogier wield his brand

Much he knew of foaming waters

Not so much of farming land

So he called to him a Hobden

Of the old unaltered blood

Saying What about that River-piece

She doesn't look no good

And that aged Hobden answered

Tain't for me to interfere

But I've known that bit of meadow now

For five and fifty year

Have it just as you've a mind to

But I've proved it time on time

If you want to change her nature

You have got to give her lime

Ogier sent his wains to Lewes

Twenty hours' solemn walk

And drew back great abundance of the cool

Grey healing chalk

And old Hobden spread it broadcast

Never heeding what was in

Which is why in cleaning ditches

Now and then we find a flint

Ogier died His sons grew English

Anglo-Saxon was their name

Until out of blossomed Normandy another pirate came;

For Duke William conquered England

And divided with his men

And our Lower River-field

He gave to William of Warenne

But the Brook you know her habit rose

One rainy Autumn night

And tore down sodden flitches of the bank

To left and right

So said William to his Bailiff

As they rode their dripping rounds:

Hob what about that River-bit

The Brook's got up no bounds

And that aged Hobden answered

Tain't my business to advise

But you might have known

That would happen from the way the valley lies

When you can't hold back the water

You must try and save the sile

Have it just as you've a mind to

But if I was you I'd spile

So they spiled along the water-course

With trunks of willow-trees

And planks of elms behind them

And immortal oaken knees

And when the spates of Autumn whirl the gravel-beds away

You can see their faithful fragments iron-hard in iron clay

Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto

I who own the River-field

Am fortified with title-deeds

Attested signed and sealed

Guaranteeing me my assigns

My executors and heirs

All sorts of powers and profits which

Are neither mine nor theirs

I have rights of chase and warren

As my dignity requires

I can fish

But Hobden tickles

I can shoot

But Hobden wires

I repair but he reopens

Certain gaps which men allege

Have been used by every Hobden

Since a Hobden swapped a hedge

Shall I dog his morning progress

Over the track-betraying dew

Demand his dinner-basket

Into which my pheasant flew

Confiscate his evening faggot

Under which my conies ran

And summons him to judgment

I would sooner summons Pan

For his dead are in the churchyard

Thirty generations laid

Their names were old in history

When Domesday Book was made

And the passion and the piety

And prowess of his line

Have seeded rooted

Fruited in some land the Law calls mine

Not for any beast that burrows

Not for any bird that flies

Would I lose his large sound council

Miss his keen amending eyes

He is bailiff woodman wheelwright

Field-surveyor engineer

And if flagrantly a poacher

'Tain't for me to interfere

Hob what about that River-bit

I turn to him again

With Fabricius and Ogier and William of Warenne

Have it just as you've a mind to

But and here he takes command

For whoever pays the taxes

Old Mus' Hobden owns the land