Movement IV - Strings Pluck, Horns Blow, Drums Beat - Glory Tales
Strings pluck, horns blow, drums beat
Full-lunged songs sing enemies defeat.
Sheep set loose, blacksmith's bench returned to use
and milkmaid's buckets spilled with glory tales.
Planted seeds found time to thrive
and farmers rose to reap their ripened wheat.
The warrior, at peace with peace
like thief, resolved to turn a leaf.
And lovers made lovers' plans.
Pebble games, daisy chains
and sub chin butter tests.
Kids peel sticks of birch to feel
slick moistured fingertips.
Blue sky laced with tight white webs;
fields of high rye tickled skylarks,
On contented drone of bee
musicians improvise a melody
fuelled by feast fermented fruit.
Sun-cooked air blew through flutes
and round bright maypole strings
a jig in plaited time thrilled quickened hearts.
Birds and butterflies flit
from wayside bush and ditch.
The track from town to stone
soon jammed with revellers
inching chattily towards
their sacred site
where she and he
vowed their proud love.
No kingdom could have crowned him
with more with joy than her.
An impossibly distant black bird
circled overhead and wondered why
so many bite-sized creatures spent their lifetime
running on the spot.
*Lyrics taken from the whole of Movement IV - Strings Pluck, Horns Blow, Drums Beat