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(english version below)
Das längste Stück des Albums, eine Ballade aus Lancaster, die ich über die Version von Tim Van Eyken entdeckt habe. Ich habe mir überlegt, die Ballade zum einen in einer klassischeren Instrumentierung aufzunehmen und zum anderen natürlich eine noch längere Variante als die von Van Eyken zu machen. ;)
Die Ballade ist eine eher blutige Variante der bösen Stiefmutter - Geschichte, wie man sie auch von Schneewittchen kennt. Anders als in der Disney-Variante wird die Maid umgebracht, die Stiefmutter und der Meisterkoch werden allerdings für ihre Taten bestraft. Um den durch die Krummhörner verstärkten Eindruck einer englischen Ballade ein wenig aufzubrechen, bekommt das Stück durch die schwedische Säckpipa nochmal einen etwas folkigeren Sound.
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The longest piece on the album, a ballad from Lancaster, which I discovered via the version by Tim Van Eyken. I wanted to create a version which on one hand is more "traditional" sounding and on the other hand is also even longer then the Version by Van Eyken. ;)
The ballad is a more bloody version of the classical evil stepmother theme, which is most commonly known via snow thie. But other than in the Disney-Version, the maid is killed, but the stepmother end the master cook are punished for their bad deeds.To give a bit of a contrast to the Crumhorn-boosted style of an english ballad, the piece gets a bit more folky when the swedish Säckpipa joins in.
lyrics
FAIR ELLEN OF RADCLIFFE.
There was a lord of worthy fame,
And a hunting he would ride,
Attended by a noble traine
Of gentrye by his side.
And while he did in chase remaine
To see both sport and playe,
His lady went, as she did feigne,
Unto the church to praye.
This lord he had a daughter deare,
Whose beauty shone so bright,
She was beloved both far and neare
Of many a lord and knight.
Fair Ellen was this maiden call'd;
A creature faire was she;
She was her father's only joye,
As you shall after see.
Therefore her cruel stepmother
Did envye her so muche,
That day by day she sought her life,
Her malice it was suche.
She bargain'd with the master-cook
To take her life awaye;
And, taking of her daughter's book,
She thus to her did saye:—
"Go home, sweet daughter, I thee praye,
Go hasten presentlie;
And tell unto the master-cook
These words that I tell thee:
"And bid him dress to dinner streight
That faire and milk-white doe
That in the parke doth shine so bright,
There's none so faire to showe."
This ladye, fearing of no harme,
Obey'd her mother's will;
And presently she hasted home
Her pleasure to fulfill.
She streight into the kitchen went
Her message for to tell;
And there she spied the master-cook,
Who did with malice swell.
"Nowe, master-cook, it must be soe,
Do that which I thee tell;
You needs must dresse the milk-white doe,
Which you do knowe full well."
Then streight his cruell, bloody hands
He on the ladye laid,
Who quivering and shaking stands,
While thus to her he sayd:—
"Thou art the doe that I must dresse;
See here, behold my knife;
For it is pointed, presentlye
To ridd thee of thy life."
O then cried out the scullion-boye,
As loud as loud might bee,—
"O, save her life, good master-cook,
And make your pyes of mee!
"For pitye's sake do not destroye
My ladye with your knife;
You knowe shee is her father's joye;
For Christe's sake save her life."
"I will not save her life," he sayd,
"Nor make my pyes of thee;
Yet, if thou dost this deed bewraye,
Thy butcher I will bee."
Now when his lord he did come home
For to sit downe and eat,
He called for his daughter deare,
To come and carve his meat.
"Nowe sit you downe," his ladye said,
"O sit you downe to meat;
Into some nunnery she is gone:
Your daughter deare forget."
Then solemnlye he made a vowe,
Before the companie,
That he would neither eat nor drinke
Until he did her see.
O then bespake the scullion-boye
With a loud voice so hye—
"If now you will your daughter see,
My lord, cut up that pye,
"Wherein her flesh is minced small,
And parched with the fire;
All caused by her stepmother,
Who did her death desire.
"And cursed bee the master-cook,
O cursed may he bee!
I proffer'd him my own heart's blood,
From death to set her free."
Then all in blacke this lorde did mourne,
And, for his daughter's sake,
He judged her cruel stepmother
To bee burnt at a stake.
Likewise he judg'd the master-cook
In boiling lead to stand;
And made the simple scullion-boye
The heire of all his land.
credits
from Crossfolk Avenue,
released November 4, 2016
Lyrics: trad. Lancashire
Music: Rick Krüger
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