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Please Applaud Only Between Sets
A
Note from Nathan:
The collection of songs in this recital very
much serves as a commentary on the experience of life and death. The title “Through the Lens of Mortality” is
inspired from a line in the final song of Vier
Ernste Gesänge, by Brahms, “Wir sehen jetzt durch einen Spiegel in einem
dunkle Worte, dann aber von Angesicht zu Angesichte. (For now we see through a
glass dark words, but then face to face.)” -1 Corinthians 13:12
As a photographer, I experience (through a
glass) the notion of “face to face” with the divine—a sense of taking part in
the act of creation—a notion that, as I’ve learned in my study of artists
through the ages, is not uncommon. I
chose each of the composers and/or subjects based on their tenacious
individuality, dedication to ideals, and magnitude of spirit. The still and time-lapse photos presented
with this recital are all the original work of Nathan Van Arsdale.
The program opens with a set from Beethoven,
Poulenc, and Schubert: first a chiding request from a deceased person for the
living to be grateful for what they have in life, and let sleeping spirits rest;
followed by a call for people to be more Christ-like, banishing spiritual
darkness and demons; and ending with a grateful celebration of the beauty of
nature.
The second set, Vier ernste Gesänge (Four
serious songs), drawing from biblical texts, questions the purpose of life
and the unknown nature of death. A very
emotionally complex and mature set, this song-cycle works through the cycle of
acceptance (anger;denial;depression;bargaining;acceptance),
arriving at the conclusion that “Nothing, I AM, without Love.”
The second half of the program opens with Chansons de Don Quichotte, a first
person account of life and death through the eyes of Don Quixote. The title character decides to live life
according to his ideals of chivalry: bravery, honor, and love; despite the rest
of the world viewing reality quite differently from him. Death, for Don Quixote, is not and end or
defeat… it is transcendence from mortality.
Finally, Charles Ives provides musical
commentary on the nature of life. Each
piece reflects a bit of Ives’ personality with a twinge of brazen pontification,
and innocent, somewhat arrogant individualism.
Were Ives alive today, he would likely encourage people to pursue their
desires with the gusto of Charlie Rutlage chasing after cattle: fearlessly,
relentlessly, and unto death.
Feel free to photograph, record, and distribute
this recital on the internet. But
please,
NO SOUNDS (shutters,
beeping, or other) and NO FLASH!!!
Ludwig van Beethoven
(1770-1827)
After gaining a reputation as a virtuoso pianist
while studying under Joseph Haydn in Vienna, Beethoven began to lose his
hearing around 1800, and was almost totally deaf for the last decade of his
life. An advocate of Napoleon and his
revolutionary ideas of liberty and equality, Beethoven composed the symphony, Bonaparte, in tribute to the
general—using unprecedented broad strokes of sound, sturm und drang (storm and
drive), to explore the realm of the unconscious, and convey the more complex
emotions of what it meant (to Beethoven) to be alive. This composition, later renamed Eroica (due to his disgust over
Napoleon’s self-coronation), marks the beginning of Beethoven’s middle period,
and is considered one of the most important works of the age. Composed shortly after Eroica (1806-7), In questa
tomba oscura, by Italian poet, Guiseppe Carpani (friend of Beethoven,
Haydn, Salieri, and Rossini), is written from the standpoint of someone who has
recently died. Unable to take
possessions beyond the grave, the spectre exhorts his ungrateful family for
quibbling over the decease’s estate. The frustration expressed in the text—an
admonishing “ingrata”—mirrors Beethoven’s frustration over living in a tomb of
silence, surrounded by people who take their gift of hearing for granted.
In Questa Tomba Oscura
In
questa tomba oscura
Lasciami
riposar;
Quando
vivevo, ingrata,
Dovevi
a me pensar.
Lascia
che l'ombre ignude
Godansi
pace almen
E
non, e non bagnar mie ceneri
D'inutile
velen.
In
this dark tomb
In this Dark Tomb
let
me rest;
you
should have thought of me
when
I was alive, you ingrate.
At
least leave naked spectres
to
enjoy their peace
And
do not bathe their ashes
with
futile venom.
Francis Poulenc
(1899-1963)
A French composer of over 150 mélodies, credited by Virgil Thompson as
being, “incontestably the greatest writer of mélodies in our time.” Poulenc was dedicated to the poetry he chose
for his songs, stating, “I believe that one must translate into music not
merely the literary meaning of the words, but also everything that is written
between the lines, if one is not to betray the poetry. Each, poetry and music,
should evoke the other.” Hymne, is a poem translated by Jean
Racine (1639-1699) from the Roman Breviary.
Hymne is a statement of
rebirth from a dark world into the light of the love of God, a plea for
enlightenment for those dwelling in the shadow of death, and a pledge to always
glorify God—to have Heaven on Earth.
Hymne
Sombre
nuit, aveugles ténèbres,
Fuyez;
le jour s'approche et l'Olympe blanchit;
Et
vous, démons, rentrez dans vos prisons funébres:
De
votre empire affreux un Dieu nous affranchit.
Le
soleil perce l'ombre obscure;
Et
les traits éclatants qu'il lance dans les airs,
Rompant
le voile épais qui couvrait la nature,
Redonnent
la couleur et l'âme á l'univers.
Ô
Christ, notre unique lumière,
Nous
ne reconnaissons que tes saintes clartés,
Notre
esprit t'est soumis; entends notre prière,
Et
sous ton divin joug range nos volontés.
Souvent
notre âme criminelle
Sur
sa fausse vertu téméraire s'endort;
Hâte-toi
d'éclairer, ô lumière éternelle,
Des
malheureux assis dans l'ombre de la mort.
Gloire
à toi, Trinité profonde,
Père,
Fils, Esprit saint: qu'on t'adore toujours,
Tant
que l'astre des temps éclairera le monde,
Et
quand les siècles même auront fini leur cours.
Hymn
Dark
night, blind darkness,
Flee,
the day is approaching and Olympus whitens;
And
you, demons, get into your gloomy prisons
From
your dreadful empire, God frees us.
The
sun breaks through the dark shadow;
And
brilliant arrows launch into the air,
Breaking
the thick veil that covered the nature,
Restoring
color and soul to the beloved universe.
O
Christ, our only light,
We
acknowledge your holy radiance,
Our
minds will be submitted; hear our prayer,
And
beneath your divine yoke, subject our will.
Often
our criminal soul
Under
false courage, reckless sleeps;
Haste
to enlighten, O eternal light,
The
wretched ones crouching in the
shadow of death.
Glory
to you, profound Trinity
Father,
Son and Holy Spirit: we ever adore you,
As
long as the sun illuminates the world
And
even when centuries have finished their course.
Franz Schubert
(1797-1828)
Despite living a relatively short life, Franz
Schubert composed nearly 600 Lieder, in addition to symphonies, liturgical
music, and chamber music. Although
widely performed today, and championed by composers such as Brahms, Liszt,
Schumann, and Mendelssohn, Schubert, like many artists, was rather
unappreciated during his life. He was a
thinking artist with an appetite for experimentation and a penchant for
painting the poetry—a “cutting edge” composer who, like Mozart’s youthful sense
of humor, composed with a youthful sense of wonder. Antonín Dvořák says of Schubert, “…to
Schubert belongs the chief credit of epoch with the lied…all other songwriters
have followed in his footsteps.” Im Freien (1826) is a poem written in
the Austrian dialect by Austrian archaeologist, poet, storyteller, and
dramatist Johann Gabriel Seidl (1804-1875), whose poetry was often set by
Schubert. Im Freien is a piano impromptu that conveys the idea of communing
with nature. The piano and vocal lines
move in parallel motion through much of the song, communicating a sense of
“being of a like mind”—the octaves throughout the piece seem to be a tonal
analogue for the perfect tuning of souls, an effect used by Brahms years later
in Wir wandelten. Graham Johnson perfectly describes the genius
with which Schubert paints the scene of this poem:
“The accompaniment reflects not only 'the moon-flecked river
ripples and the glistening willow leaves' (Capell) but also 'an abundant
fullness of heart' (Einstein). The piano writing swells and surges at certain
moments, and at others is as sensitive to the tiniest inflection of
ever-changing mood as a silver bromide photographic plate. It is quite
extraordinary how at the beginnings of Verses 4, 5 and 6 (each beginning with
the narrator's finger pointing at something new in a different direction) the
composer uses changes of harmony to vary camera shot and angle as we zoom in on
a new detail in the panorama. The final verse as it returns to the home key of
E flat seems to gather up the energy of the preceding seven verses ('Drum auch
winkt's'—'That is why and how I've been drawn back here'). At the very end, the
sounds of true love (those beguiling sixths make a final appearance) seem to
make the poet re-focus his gaze from the distance and turn to someone much
nearer, the only ornamentation in the vocal line being a tender turn at the
last moment. He seems to realize that this picture of nature has become even
more beautiful and meaningful because of the tender empathy he has found by his
side.”-notes from the Hyperion Schubert Edition.
Im Freien
Draußen
in der weiten Nacht
Steh
ich wieder nun,
Ihre
helle Sternenpracht
Laßt
mein Herz nicht ruhn!
Tausend
Arme winken mir
Süß
begehrend zu,
Tausend
Stimmen rufen hier,
Gruß
dich, Trauter, du!
O
ich weiß auch, was mich zieht,
Weiß
auch, was mich ruft,
Was
wie Freundes Gruß und Lied
Locket
durch die Luft.
Siehst
du dort das Hüttchen stehn,
Drauf
der Mondschein ruht?
Durch
die blanken Scheiben sehn
Augen,
die mir gut!
Siehst
du dort das Haus am Bach,
Das
der Mond bescheint?
Unter
seinem trauten Dach
Schläft
mein liebster Freund.
Siehst
du jenen Baum der voll
Silberflocken flimmt?
O wie oft mein Busen
schwoll
Froher
dort gestimmt!
Jedes Plätzchen, das mir
winkt
Ist ein lieber Platz,
Und wohin ein Strahl nur
sinkt,
Lockt ein teurer Schatz.
Drum auch winkt mir's
überall
So begehrend hier,
Drum auch ruft es, wie
der Schall
Trauter Liebe mir.
In the Open
Outside
in the vast night
Stand
I once more,
Its
bright, starry splendour
Lets
my heart not rest!
A
thousand arms beckon to me
Sweetly
appealing
A
thousand voices call here:
'Greetings,
to you, dear, you!'
Oh,
I know what draws me,
What
calls to me,
Like
a friend's greeting and song
Floating
enticingly through the air
Do
you see there the cottage
On
which the moonlight is lingering?
From
its sparkling windows gaze out
Eyes,
pleasing to me.
Do
you see the house there by the brook,
Lit
by the moon?
Beneath
its homey roof
My
dearest friend sleeps.
Do
you see that tree,
Glittering
with flakes of silver?
Oh,
how often did my heart
Swell
there with joy!
Every
little place that beckons
Is
a dear place,
And
wherever a single star falls,
Attracts
a dear sweetheart.
So
beckons to me everything here
So
appealing here
Therefore
also calls it, how the voice
Tender,
“Love me”
Johannes Brahms (1833-1897)
Both a traditionalist and innovator, Johannes
Brahms’ music, while rooted in the techniques of the Baroque and Classical
masters such as Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart, created bold new approaches to
harmony and melody, advancing the Romantic idiom. Close friends with Robert and Clara Schumann,
Brahms became very attached to Clara, with whom he also performed
extensively. Brahms became the
intercessor between Robert and Clara after Robert was confined to a sanatorium
until his death. After Robert Schumann’s
death, Brahms rented the apartment above the Schumann’s house, and sacrificed
his career and art for Clara’s sake. If
Clara and Johannes were lovers is unknown, but they destroyed their letters to
each other, suggesting more than merely a desire for privacy. Vier
ernste Gesänge is a cycle of four songs dedicated to Max Klinger (a German
sculptor and engraver), with texts taken from the Bible (the first three from
the Old Testament, and the last one—focused on faith, hope, and charity—from
the New Testament). Clara Schumann
suffered a stroke on March 26, 1896, and Brahms completed this, his last set of
songs, two months later in anticipation of her death.
Denn es gehet dem
Menschen wie dem Vieh
Denn
es gehet dem Menschen wie dem Vieh;
wie
dies stirbt, so stirbt er auch;
und
haben alle einerlei Odem;
und
der Mensch hat nichts mehr denn das Vieh:
denn
es ist alles eitel.
Es
fährt alles an einem Ort;
es
ist alles von Staub gemacht,
und
wird wieder zu Staub.
Wer
weiß, ob der Geist des Menschen
aufwärts
fahre,
und
der Odem des Viehes unterwärts unter
die
Erde fahre?
Darum
sahe ich, daß nichts bessers ist,
denn daß der Mensch fröhlich sei in seiner Arbeit,
denn
das ist sein Teil.
Denn
wer will ihn dahin bringen,
daß
er sehe, was nach ihm geschehen wird?
Ecclesiastes, 3:19-22
Because
there goeth a man like the cattle;
as
the one dieth, so dieth the other;
they
have all one breath;
and
man has nothing more than the beasts:
for
all is vanity.
All
go unto one place;
it's
all made of dust,
and
all turn to dust.
Who
knows if the spirit of man
goeth
upward,
and
the spirit of the beast rides downward under the Earth?
So
I saw that there is nothing better,
because
that man should rejoice in his work,
for
that is his portion.
For
who shall bring him to,
that
he may see what will happen after him?
Ich wandte mich und sahe
an
Ich
wandte mich und sahe an
Alle,
die Unrecht leiden unter der Sonne;
Und
siehe, da waren Tränen derer,
Die
Unrecht litten und hatten keinen Tröster;
Und
die ihnen Unrecht täten, waren zu mächtig,
Daß
sie keinen Tröster haben konnten.
Da
lobte ich die Toten,
Die
schon gestorben waren
Mehr
als die Lebendigen,
Die
noch das Leben hatten;
Und
der noch nicht ist, ist besser, als alle beide,
Und
des Bösen nicht inne wird,
Das
unter der Sonne geschieht.
Ecclesiastes, 4:1-3
I
turned and saw to
All
who suffer injustice under the sun;
And
behold, the tears of,
The
wrong and they had no comforter;
Would
do them wrong and there was power,
That
they had no comforter.
Wherefore
I praised the dead,
Which
are already dead,
More
than the living,
Which
are yet alive;
And
is not, is better than both of them,
And
evil will not stop,
That
which is done under the sun.
O Tod, wie bitter bist
du
O
Tod, wie bitter bist du,
Wenn
an dich gedenket ein Mensch,
Der
gute Tage und genug hat
Und
ohne Sorge lebet;
Und
dem es wohl geht in allen Dingen
Und
noch wohl essen mag!
O
Tod, wie bitter bist du.
O
Tod, wie wohl tust du dem Dürftigen,
Der
da schwach und alt ist,
Der
in allen Sorgen steckt,
Und
nichts Bessers zu hoffen,
Noch
zu erwarten hat!
O
Tod, wie wohl tust du!
Sirach, 41:1-4
Oh
Death, how bitter are you
When
a person thinks of you:
The
good days and has enough
And
lives without care;
And
it probably is in all things
And
probably like to eat!
O
death, how bitter are you
O
death, how well you are doing to the needy,
Who
is weak and old,
The
plugged in all the worries,
And
hope nothing better,
To
expect yet!
O
death, how well you're doing!
Wenn ich mit Menschen,
und mit Engelzungen
Redete
Wenn
ich mit Menschen - und mit Engelzungen redete
und
hätte der Liebe nicht,
so
wäre ich ein tönend Erz oder eine klingende Schelle.
Und
wenn ich weissagen könnte und wüßte alle Geheimnisse
und
alle Erkenntnis und hätte allen Glauben,
also
daß ich Berge versetzte,
und
hätte der Liebe nicht, so wäre ich nichts.
Und
wenn ich alle meine Habe den Armen gäbe
und
ließe meinen Leib brennen
und
hätte der Liebe nicht,
so
wäre mir's nichts nütze.
Wir
sehen jetzt durch einen Spiegel
in
einem dunklen Worte,
dann
aber von Angesicht zu Angesichte.
Jetzt
erkenne ich's stückweise;
dann
aber werde ich erkennen,
gleichwie
ich erkannt bin.
Nun
aber bleibt Glaube, Hoffnung, Liebe, diese drei;
aber
die Liebe ist die größeste unter ihnen.
1 Corinthians 13:1–3,12–13
If
I with people - and spoke with the tongues of angels
and
had not the love,
I
am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
And
if I have prophecy, and know all mysteries
and
all knowledge, and though I have all faith,
so
that I could remove mountains,
and
would not have love, I am nothing.
And
if I give all I possess to the poor
and
my body to be burned,
and
had not the love,
so
I gain nothing.
For
now we see through a glass,
in
dark words,
but
then face to face.
Now
I know in part;
but
then shall I know,
also
I am known.
And
now abideth faith, hope, love, these three;
but
the greatest of these is love.
Jacques Ibert
(1890-1962)
The top prize-winner of the Prix de Rome with
his first attempt, despite the disruption of serving in WWI, Jacques Ibert was
a successful composer who began study at the Paris Conservatoire in 1910, and
later ran both the Paris Opera and the Opéra-Comique. His compositional style is described as
eclectic, as he did not ascribe to any particular musical fashion or school,
stating that, “all systems are valid.”
Ibert composed in numerous forms, including opera, ballet, piano,
orchestral, and film. His film credits
include Macbeth (Orson Welles, 1948),
Circus (Gene Kelly, 1952), and
numerous French films. The producers of
Don Quichotte (starring famous operatic bass, Feodor Chaliapin) separately approached
five composers to write songs for the film (Jacques Ibert, Maurice Ravel-a
friend of Ibert’s-, Marcel Delannoy, Manuel de Falla, and Darius Milhaud. Each composer believed they were the only
person asked to compose music for the film, but Ibert’s was the music chosen
for the film. The film was produced in
French, English, and German, with Chaliapin starring in all three versions.
The character Don Quichotte, derived from the
classic novel Don Quixote (v.1-1605
& v2-1615) by Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616), has read so many chivalric
novels, that he chooses to see the world in a way where reality is what he
makes of it. In the course of their
travels, the protagonists meet innkeepers, prostitutes, goatherds, soldiers,
priests, escaped convicts, and scorned lovers. These encounters are magnified
by Don Quixote’s imagination into chivalrous quests. Don Quixote’s tendency to
intervene violently in matters which do not concern him, and his habit of not
paying his debts, result in many privations, injuries, and humiliations (with
Sancho often getting the worst of it).
Chanson du
Départ de Don Quichotte
Ce château neuf, ce nouvel édifice
Tout enrichi de marbre et de porphyre
Qu'amour bâtit château de son empire
où tout le ciel a mis son artifice,
Est un rempart, un fort contre le vice,
Où
la vertueuse maîtresse se retire,
Que l'oeil regarde et que l'esprit admire
Forçant
les coeurs à lui faire service.
C'est
un château, fait de telle sorte
Que
nul ne peut approcher de la porte
Si
des grands rois il n'a sauvé sa race
Victorieux,
vaillant et amoureux.
Nul
chevalier tant soit aventureux
Sans
être tel ne peut gagner la place.
Song of Departure of Don Quixote
This
new castle, this new building,
enriched
with marble and porphyry,
where
love built a castle for his empire
and
all of heaven added their skills,
a rampart, a fortress against vice,
is
whose virtuous mistress hides herself away,
that
the eye beholds and the spirit admires,
forcing
hearts to her service.
It
is a castle, made in such a way
that
none may approach its door
unless
he has saved his people from the Great Kings,
victorious,
valiant and loving.
No
knight, no matter how adventurous,
can
enter without being such a person.
Chanson à Dulcinée
Un
an me dure la journée
Si
je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
Mais,
Amour a peint son visage,
Afin
d’adoucir ma langueur,
Dans
la fontaine et le nuage,
Dans
chaque aurore et chaque fleur.
Un
an me dure la journée
Si
je ne vois ma Dulcinée.
Toujours proche et toujours loin taine,
Etoile
de me longs chemins.
Le
vent m’apporte son haleine
Quand
il passé sur les jasmins.
Song to Dulcinée
A
year lasts me the day
If
I see my Dulcinea.
But
Love has painted her face,
To
soften my languor
In
the fountain and the cloud,
In
each dawn and each flower.
A
year lasts me the day
If
I see my Dulcinea.
Always
close and still far away,
Star
of my long wanderings.
The
wind carries her breath
When
it passes through jasmine.
Chanson du Duc
Je
veux chanter ici la Dame de mes songes
Qui
m’exalte au dessus de ce siècle de boue
Son
Coeur de diamant est vierge de mensonges
La
rose s’obscurcit au regard de sa joue
Pour
Elle, j’ai tenté les hautes aventures
Mon
bras a délivré la princesse en servage
J’ai
vaincu l’Enchanteurs, confondu les parjures
Et
ployé l’univers à lui render l’homage
Dame
par qui je vais, seul dessus cette terre,
Qui
ne soit prisonier de la fausse apparence
Je
soutiens contre tout Chevalier téméraire
Votre
éclat non pareil et votre précellence.
Song of the Duke
I
want to sing before the Lady of my dreams
That
excites me over this century of mud
In
her diamond heart a virgin lies
The
pink darkens under her cheek
For
her, I tried the high adventures
My
arm delivered the princess from bondage
I
have overcome the Enchanter, confused perjurers
And
bent the universe to render her the homage
Lady
by whom I'm only on this earth,
Who
is prisoner of the false appearance
I
argue against any rash Knight
Your
brilliance and your unparalleled preeminence.
Chanson de la Mort de
Don Quichotte
Ne
pleure pas Sancho ne pleure pas, mon bon
Ton
maître n’est pas mort il n’est pas loin de toi
Il
vit dans une ile heureuse ou tout est pur Et sans mensonges
Dan
l’ile enfin trouvée où tu viendras un jour
Dans
l’ile désirée O mon ami Sancho
Les
livres sont brulés Et font un tas de cendres
Si
tous les livres m’ont tué il suffit d’un pour que je vive
Fantôme
dans la vie, et réel dans la mort
Tel
est l’étrange sort du pauvre Don Quichotte.
Song of the Death of Don Quixote
Don’t
cry Sancho, do not cry, my dear
Your
master is not dead, he is not far from you
He
lives in a happy island where everything is pure and without lies
On
the island where you at last will one day come
In
the desired island, O my friend Sancho
The
books are burned and make a pile of ashes
If
all the books have killed me just one that I may live
Ghost
in life and in death real
Such
is the strange fate of poor Don Quixote.
Charles Ives (1874-1954)
Spiritualist, optimist, idealist, individualist,
innovator, and fiercely democratic, Charles Ives stands out among composers,
and yet, is considered one of the most representative of American artists. His father, George Ives, was a band-leader
who would often experiment with music (there is record of him starting two
bands marching from opposite ends of town towards the center while playing
different songs). Charles to respected
the power of vernacular music from early on, which shows in many of his
compositions that borrow from folk and hymn tunes. He composed over 140 songs, but because he
was independently wealthy as an insurance salesman, he didn’t care if they
didn’t get published, or if people liked them, and many of them remained in
manuscript form or as sketches for years after his death. Ives was a free thinker with a love for
transcendentalism and sense of humor (often setting texts by Ralph Waldo
Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Whittier, Oliver Holmes, and Walt
Whitman). His musical style developed
from the French and German school into something entirely American. After WWI, Ives lost faith in the progress of
humanity—a change that is noticeable in his later works. Despite being very eccentric, Ives was a
musical genius, capable of creating highly organized, yet unique musical
ideas. The Cage is Ives’ shortest, and most enigmatic song. The musical pattern in the prelude (repeated
“two or three times”) sets the stage for a pacing leopard. Although there are no meter markings, The Cage is tightly constructed: the
vocal line (text by Ives) consists of whole-tone scale segments, and the piano
chords are stacked on perfect fourths (like the even spacing of cage
bars). The song ends with one last
staccato eighth note in question, “Is life anything like that?” Tarrant
Moss is a text by Rudyard Kipling, but because Ives couldn’t get the rights
to use the text for his composition, he used the same music under his own text
in Slugging a Vampire, with only
slight variations. However, the
character in each song is the same voice—the voice of a somewhat arrogant tough
guy protagonist. Charlie Rutlage had been called “the greatest country-and-western
number never to be performed at the Grand Ole Opry.” The text, a description of a cowhand who gets
trampled during a roundup, comes from a 1920 printing of Cowboy Songs by John A. Lomax.
The Cage
A
leopard went around his cage
From
one side back to the other side
He
stopped only when the keeper came around with meat.
A
boy who had been there three hours began to wonder,
“Is
life anything like that?”
Tarrant Moss
I
closed and drew for my love’s sake
That
now is false to me
And
I slew the reaver of Tarrant Moss
And
set Dumeny free.
And
ever they give me praise and gold,
And
ever I mourn my loss.
For
I struck the blow for my false love’s sake,
And
not for the men of the Moss.
Slugging a Vampire
I
closed and drew, but not a gun—
The
refuge of the weak—
I
swung on the left and I swung on the right
Then
I landed on his beak.
He
started to pull all the same ole stuff
But
I closed in hard and I called his bluff
And
his face is still a stickin’ in the yellow sheet
And
on the billboard a’ down the street
Charlie Rutlage
Another
good cowpuncher has gone to meet his fate,
I
hope he’ll find a resting place, within the golden gate,
The
golden gate.
Another
place is vacant on the ranch of the XIT,
‘Twill
be hard to find another that’s liked as well as he.
The
first that died was Kid White, a man both tough and brave.
While
Charlie Rutlage makes the third to be sent to his grave
Caused
by a cowhorse falling, while running after stock;
‘Twas
on the spring round up, a place where death men mock,
He
went forward one morning on a circle through the hills,
He
was gay and full of glee, and free from earthly ills;
But
when it came to finish up the work on which he went,
Nothing
came back from him; his time on Earth was spent.
‘Twas
as he rode the round up, an XIT turned back to the herd;
Poor
Charlie shoved him in again, his cutting horse he spurred;
Another
turned; at that moment his horse the creature spied and turned and fell with
him,
Beneath
poor Charlie died,
His
relations in Texas his face never more will see,
But
I hope he’ll meet his loved ones beyond in eternity,
In
eternity,
I
hope he’ll meet his parents, will meet them face to face
And
that they’ll grasp him by the right hand at the shining throne
The
shining throne, the shining throne of grace.
Huge debt of gratitude
to Dr. Tod Fitzpatrick, Michelle Lee, Professor David B. Weiller,
Dr. Alfonse Anderson,
Dr. Alice Corkill, Marshall Townsend, Haik Goomroyan, Sandra De Borger,
Steve McGuire (UNLV
Reprographics), Debra Weite, Fred Morledge, Erin Ciesielski, James and Nelly
Leavitt,
and Olivia Sirota.
This would have not been
possible without your patience, guidance, inspiration, love, and support!
Fine Art Prints can be purchased at http://www.navandale.com
Hair styling by Debra Weite (http://www.debraweite.com/)
Hair styling by Debra Weite (http://www.debraweite.com/)
This performance is
being professionally recorded by Fred Morledge (http://www.photofm.com)
MGM Resorts Announces Nine-Year Membership Agreement
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