Weeping Chanticleer : 無料・フリー素材/写真
Weeping Chanticleer / Giles Watson's poetry and prose
| ライセンス | クリエイティブ・コモンズ 表示-継承 2.1 |
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| 説明 | Misericord supporter: Beverley Minster.A WILY WARNING: The poems attached to images in this set are based on the mediaeval French romances of Reynard the Fox. As mediaeval people had a much more bawdy approach to life than we do, some people may find the content of the poems rather offensive. They contain swearing, sex, sacrilege, violence, and sometimes a combination of all four. Sorry.REYNARD AND TIECELINTiecelin the crow flew out above a sleepy village,Feeling peckish, Tiecelin sought some grain or crumb or spillage,Some little morsel that would fill his empty proventriculus.Hearken now unto my tale: his story is ridiculous.A pile of cheeses in a garden, drying in the sun:“Ark!” said Sir Tiecelin, “My feasting time’s begun!”He picked a cheese up in his beak and flew up to the gutter;A woman ran out from the house; her heart was all a-flutter.“You dirty crow, you corvine cad!” she cried, and threw a slipper,Tiecelin said, “Though I’d prefer some lightly buttered kipper,A cheese will suit me just as well, and this one smells delicious.”The woman wildly swore at him; her epithets were vicious.Tiecelin the crow flew home, alighting on his beech,He pecked his cheese upon a bough, high up out of reach.A morsel of the cheese fell down, and landed on the ground,Where who but Reynard should be crouching, still, without a sound?Then up spoke Reynard with a smile, “Tiecelin, my friend!Your father sang such lovely songs, ‘ere he met his end;Delight me with a caw or croak; your voice is most melodious!‘Twill make a change from howls of wolves, and yowls of felines odious!”Tiecelin the crow was proud - too easily was he flattered:He closed his eyes and cawed aloud, and soon the cheese lay splatteredUpon the loamy forest floor, the fox thought slyly, “No,I shall not eat the cheese just yet: ‘twill go down well with crow!”“Alas,” said Reynard mournfully, and licked his wounded paw,“Although I feel that I could gobble cheeses by the score,The doctor says that cheese is bad for foxes wounded sorely;Come down and eat it, goodly crow, for I am feeling poorly.”Tiecelin the crow flew down without a thought or care;His beak scooped up the soft inside of splattered Camembert.When Reynard pounced upon the crow, the bird flew from his grip,And four black feathers slowly dropped from Reynard’s drooling lip.Tiecelin the crow was wroth; upon his branch a-cawing,While from below came hungry sounds of licking and of gnawing.“Good crow,” said Reynard, with his mouth full, “this cheese is soft and smelly,And though it’s tasty, I’d prefer a crow inside my belly!And by the way, Tiecelin, your voice is diabolic!”Tiecelin croaked, “I hope the cheese gives you a painful colic!”But Reynard simply licked his lips, and nothing did he say,He grinned a toothy grin and went a-wandering on his way. REYNARD AND THE SHE-WOLFChorus:Shagging, shagging, Reynard is shaggingA pretty she-wolf, and his tail is wagging!His tongue is lolling and he’s treading her grapes:Is this free love or is it rape?Howling, howling, Isengrin’s howling,And after coitus the fox is foulingAll his little wolf pups one by one:Hersent’s exhausted and the fox is gone.Reynard’s in a cheery moodNow that he has had some food,He trots along without a careAnd comes upon a cliff-face bare,And finds a cave-mouth in the rock;He sidles in; he doesn’t knock.He tiptoes in with padded pawAnd hides himself behind the door.Hersent, she-wolf, sits within,Wife of bold Sir Isengrin;Four little pups lie on the mat,But Reynard gives no thought to that:He’s looking at her derriere;Her lupine buttocks and grey hair(By lupine bachelors oft discussed)Drive poor Reynard mad with lust.ChorusThough Reynard hides behind the doorHis russet tail lies on the floor,And Hersent says, “Reynard, my dear,Where have you been all the year?”“I dare not come this way,” he said,“Methinks your husband wants me dead.He says I fancy you! That’s libel!He says he’d swear it on the Bible!”“Does he indeed?” says Hersent, haughty,And what she does is rather naughty:She cocks her leg for Sir Reynard,And soon the pair are at it hard.He sniffs her bottom before departing;(They shagged quite hard and she is smarting);He piddles on the wolf-pups fourAnd disappears out the door.ChorusSir Isengrin comes home that day,In time to hear his wolf-pups say,“Dad, why did red Sir Reynard comeAnd pee on us and shag our mum?”Isengrin calls her “Whore!” and “Bitch!”And “Trollop dragged up from the ditch!”Then he runs off, on Reynard’s trail,And leaves the pups to howl and wail.Hersent follows far behindAnd thoughts of Reynard haunt her mind;She doubles back towards his denAnd calls “Oh! Reynard!” once again.She flings herself into the hole,Though all is quiet and black as coal,And she’s caught fast about her belly;The air inside is rank and smelly.ChorusAnd Reynard sees that she is stuck:“Another chance to have a fuck!O! Blessèd is the lupine kind!”He cries, and mounts her from behind.“Deeper! Deeper!” Hersent groans,The den fills with ecstatic moans,Reynard grins and grasps her bum,But at that moment, who should comeBut Isengrin: he gives a yell,A-howling, “Reynard! Bloody hell!What are you doing with my wife?”“Nought,” says the fox, “I save her life,For she is stuck! Now fancy that!I have a feeling she’s too fat,And I was trying to pull her out!Don’t shout at me, you hairy lout!”ChorusThen Reynard slyly lopes away,“I’ll have revenge on you one day!”Cries Isengrin, “I will not fail!”And turns to tug on Hersent’s tail.“My dear, dear wife, I durst not lose!”He pulls so hard, poor Hersent poos;She howls aloud, makes lamentationAt sore abuse, and defecation.Isengrin gives a frantic shout:“I’ll have to try to dig you out!”He scrabbles hard about her belly:It’s dirty work, and rather smelly.At last he pulls his she-wolf free:She is a pitiful sight to see;Her tail has an unsightly kink,And her bottom seems to stink.ChorusAs they limp home, tired and weary,Isengrin rankling, Hersent teary,Of sweet revenge he’s thinking hard,But she is thinking of Reynard.ISENGRIN THE CUCKOLDNoble was a lion, stalwart and bold,Isengrin was a wolf, by Reynard made cuckold,Hersent his wife was much loved by the fox,And Coupée the chicken was mourned by hens and cocks.To the court of King Noble Isengrin came in rage,“Bring Reynard to trial and lock him in a cage!For Hersent my wife is victim of his jape -By Reynard subjected to foul, unlawful rape!”King Noble said, “Wolf, your complaint is trivial!Pray, do not disturb this atmosphere convivial!Don’t be a nincompoop!” King Noble scolded,“D’you want the whole world to know you’re cuckolded?”Then Bruin the bear bowed before the King.He said, “Since this lady wears Isengrin’s ring,Methinks you should give your judgement, my good Lord,For strife between wolf and fox your lands can ill afford!”Said Bruyant the bull, “A curse on any beastWho dips hand in the pot at this noble feast,Who would not see Reynard hang for this transgression!I prithee, King Noble, to teach Reynard his lesson!”“Nay!” said the Badger, bold Grimbert, stalwart knight,“For Hersent’s skin bears no mark of scratch or bite!Mayhap good Reynard loved her, mayhap he paid a shilling,Mayhap he made her drunk to get her good and willing!”“Indeed he did not!” poor Hersent blushed for shame,“Reynard may lust for me, but I am not to blame!Reynard’s not my bedfellow, Reynard’s not my lover!Reynard’s done naught with me he’d not do with his mother!”Hersent’s hackles bristled, she was hotly wroth,“To get back in bed with Isengrin I am loth,He’s charged me unjustly, the jealous, mincing twit,And I’ve done no deed that a nun would not commit!”Bernard the ass mused, munching on a thistle,“Hersent, it seems, did not blow Reynard’s whistle,O! Look how she wrings her paws with righteous wrath!None hath more faithful mate than this Isengrin hath!I prithee, good Lord, have mercy on Reynard!Isengrin is malicious! His charges disregard!Or else let good Hersent submit to test by fire,A trial by ordeal will prove the wolf a liar!”“Not on your nelly!” roared Isengrin in a fit,“She’ll be burnt to a frazzle, and I’ll be in the shit!They’ll say, ‘Look! A cuckold! There’s the jealous fellow!’”You can stuff that plan up your arse!” Isengrin did bellow.“Good, then,” said Noble, “Then I’ll do sweet fuck all,And you, sly Isengrin, can weep and cry and bawl,So what if Reynard shagged her, who gives a monkey’s arse?I give up! I wash my paws of this unholy farce!”Just then the court fills with tears and mournful groans,“Make way for the dead!” hen Pinte weeps and moans,Sir Chantecler struts in, tears stain his wattles proud,Behind him his child Coupée, dead beneath a shroud.“Five sisters I had, the loveliest of chickens!Reynard ate every one! O! The prospect sickens!Five brothers had I, most upright of cocks!Reynard gobbled every one, he even ate their socks!”“Goddammit!” cried Noble, “I’ll cut off Reynard’s balls!My subjects he cuckolds, my chooks he bites and mauls!Let us bury Coupée, then Reynard shall hang,Before he gets as all involved in one big gang-bang!”Pinte and her ladies swoon upon the floor,Isengrin is smiling, “I’ll settle soon my score!”They bury poor Coupée, by fox-tooth torn and scarred,And all of the beasts swear vengeance on Reynard.FOR AN INTRODUCTORY ESSAY FOR THESE SONGS, PLEASE GO TO THE REYNARD THE FOX SET ON MY PHOTOSTREAM. |
| 撮影日 | 2008-11-22 13:15:01 |
| 撮影者 | Giles Watson's poetry and prose , Oxfordshire, England |
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