Now it is summer, they say blissfulness has come, that i enjoy it as always, so advise and tell me: how?
Death took away from me, what i will never be able to overcome.
Have mercy on him, Lord and God: A more virtuous guest has never entered your kingdom.
Please watch this episode of Drawfee where they accidentally stumble into the exact center of my venn diagram of interests by creating a giant, non-binary character named “*:･ﾟ✧✿Morgoth-kun✿*:･ﾟ✧”
Flyg Maria Nyckelpiga, fladdra, surr och spinn. Hämta tusen tomtebloss, och så dem i mitt sinn.
Far mitt lilla sockergryn, far från famn till famn. Hämta sagor där åt mig, om storm och lom till hamn.
Hämta skal från drakens ägg, eld från häxans spis. Kungens äpplen, drottnings sylt, kejsarns vita ris. Vatten ifrån Mimers brunn, frukt från paradis. Och kom sen snällt tillbaks till mig, på nyckelpigors vis.
Ja flyg Maria Nyckelpiga, fladdra, surr och spinn. Hämta tusen tomtebloss, och så dem i mitt sinn. Far mitt lilla sockergryn, far från famn till famn. Hämta tusen tomtebloss, och så dem i min hamn.
Village dotard, old idiot Village dotard, weak in the head Village dotard, crooked imp Village dotard, bowlegged Village dotard, up on the cold hill Village dotard, a viper on his lap.
Croaks and ambles lonely in the night. Croaks and ambles with an ember in his hands. Scorches on his palms, his feet on fire, All lonely in the night, a tired old devil.
On the cold hill the adders slide around each other, One high, two low. The old man’s palm the curving viper bit, A stinging wound, a load of vile venom.
Old man, alone in the night turns back, In the stairwell, sits waiting for the viper Wants to put its wily head on the block, To axe its slithery neck.
“Snake slither-stealthy, enemy eyeslanted, groundprowler heatherhue, earth your evil incubator; thou knowst evil incubation, earth’s stealthy sireling, from earth sired other serpents, snakes of sibilant shades; Know not thy hue however your hue may be, be thee one hue, dark hue, grey hue, be thee brass or bronze hue— Devil’s biter damned, thou shalt not lay upon my lap, feast on my flesh, you lightningback longtooth lord of lies! Flee to the forest, whisk to the willowstems, slither under sullen stones, sable serpent dive thee deep to dirt. Take the ailment away, your hurt to your horrid home; bring the pain to a battlefield, unleash your evil on the enemy. Better the bite banishes the bad, purify the potent poison, away I say— thou vilest viper, never nose round these acres! Devil’s biter damned, thou shalt not lay upon my lap, feast on my flesh, you lightningback longtooth lord of lies! Flee to the forest, whisk to the willowstems, slither under sullen stones, sable serpent dive thee deep to dirt!”
Old man heals the devil’s bite Pours out liquor, washes it with spirits, Pours tar and heats a smokey sauna, Conjures smoky charms, sings spells in his hut.
In the village they all wonder; Wonder about the old man’s twisting, stumbling, About the nightly croaking from a hunchbacked devil, About an old man’s struggles, cast the rudest rumors:
“Village dotard, old idiot”
“Village dotard, bowlegged”
Old man, old dotard, weary, Stronger men could take far less.
–Note: Lyrics dubiously patched together from at least four sources, very probably inaccurate, but hopefully evocative! Spellsong lyrics translated here. Further translations here.
As long as I’ve got a groove going for Lay of Leithian music recs…
@misbehavingmaiar ‘s post about Barry Dransfield’s The Werewolf made me think of this song, which always makes me think of Sauron.
The singing elves have been driven to the very brink of the Sea! (It’s the Minack theatre in West Cornwall, which is a very cool place to see music if you happen to be travelling that way)
OooOooOH! 😀 Many thanks indeed! You’re right on, this is very reminiscent of those spooky cantos in the Lay, eyes growing in the eyeless dark and all that.
Omg this artist also has a song called the Blacksmith’s Prayer, so I’m officially on board *3*
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 