Songs for Rose – Chansons pour Rose

SAGReiss

From: SAGReiss

Date: 31 October 2006

Subject: Songs we have sung

My Grandfather's Clock
My Pigeon House
You Are So Beautiful (Joe Crocker)
The Most Beautiful Girl in the World (Charlie Pride [Rich, but it's basically the same thing]) [the first song I sang to Rose, an hour or two after her birth]
No Rose No Cry (Bob Marley)
Here Comes the Sun (Beatles) [the song I sang to Rose when we left the hospital, the first time she saw the sun]
Are You Sleeping, brother John
Summertime
Here we go round the mulberry bush
The Hollow Men
Clementine
The Erie Canal
Greensleeves
The Silver Swan
Splashing in the Bath (Singing in the Rain)
Mockingbird
Fare thee well, my dear
Au Claire de la lune
Rockabye Baby
Row, row, row your boat

...many more that I can't remember. Suggestions are welcome.

[I did not forget Waltzing Matilda. I knowingly suppressed it.]

Rose’s Song

From: SAGReiss

Date: 18 July 2014

Subject: Happy birthday, Rose

Rose, my love,

I tried to write to your mother for her birthday, but the letter isn't any good, so I've just saved it to a place where you can one day read all of my mail, even letters I've never sent. I've kept everything I've written for you. Besides, we are in the season of your birthday and mine as well, although I don't celebrate anything since I lost you almost four years ago. The last day we parted was 19 September 2010 at 19:00, after the weekend of our friend Alan's funeral. You won't remember him anymore, but I'll take you to his tombstone one day, although by that time we may be drinking whisky together. It's also the gravesite of our lost love, a love that shall come back, but four years of which have been lost forever, but for these traces I scribble down. You can read the page where my grief for my dying friend melts into my grief for your being kidnapped, for the two happened during the same endless, merciless summer:

http://www.sagreiss.org/revenger.htm#alan

I hope you are doing well, my love. I hope you are relearning a little English in school, and keeping up in music. You can also listen to songs I've sung for you. I've added a new one today:

http://www.sagreiss.org/moonlight.htm#rose

Do not worry, my love, and be not sad. I am fighting for you. We're going to kick up a little shit in England next month. I've just bought three flags, French, English & American, and I'm removing all of your stuff from the Rosemobile, and packing my bags for the trip. I'll bring three or four friends with me, and we'll stay at my friend Mike's house. You only saw Mike at the trial on 7 November, but he's been through the same thing. His son is a grown man now, and Mike has only gotten him back recently. Justice sucks. Maybe you'll see me on television next month. I'll be wearing your Dora the Explorer pillowcase as usual. There's not much else I can do, my love. I'll eat a chestnut & pear cake to celebrate your mother's birthday with Mike & his family tomorrow.

She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word. —
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.

— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5)

I've been thinking more of death, sweetheart, and my health declines, but I will hold on for you so long as I can. My father doesn't wish to bury me, but my mother knows she must. In the meantime, I'm building this little World, and I'll leave it to you as your birthright.

Goodbye, but not farewell.

Your loving father.

Scott

Au Claire de la Lune

Vous noterez qu’à partir du dernier vers de la troisième strophe française cela devient une chanson d’amour par la simple inversion d’une phrase.

In the silver moonlight:
    “Peter my good friend,
I would fain a word write,
    Thy pen prithee lend.
Candlelight has vanished,
    And no fire I see.
Open wide the door now,
    If thou lovest me.”

Au clair de la lune :
    « Mon ami Pierrot,
Prête-moi ta plume
    Pour écrire un mot.
Ma chandelle est morte.
    Je n’ai plus de feu.
Ouvre-moi ta porte
    Pour l’amour de Dieu. »

Au clair de la lune
    L’aimable Lubin
Frappe chez la brune,
    Qui répond soudain :
« Qui frappe de la sorte ? »
    Il dit à son tour :
« Ouvrez votre porte
    Pour le Dieu d’amour. »


Au clair de la lune
    Pierrot répondit :
« Je n’ai pas de plume.
    Je suis dans mon lit.
Va chez la voisine.
    Je crois qu’elle y est,
Car dans sa cuisine
    On bat le briquet. »

Au clair de la lune
    On n’y voit qu’un peu.
On chercha la plume.
    On chercha du feu.
En cherchant de la sorte,
    Je ne sais ce qu’on trouva,
Mais je sais que la porte
    Sur eux se ferma.

Oh My Darling, Clementine

In a cavern, in a canyon,
    Excavating for a mine,
Dwelt a miner forty-niner,
    And his daughter Clementine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Ruby lips above the water,
    Blowing bubbles, soft and fine,
But, alas, I was no swimmer,
    So I lost my Clementine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

In my dreams she still doth haunt me,
    Robed in garments soaked in brine;
How in life I used to hug her,
    Now she’s dead, and I draw the line.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Drove she ducklings to the water
    Every morning just at nine,
Stubbed her toe against a splinter,
    Fell into the foaming brine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Then the miner, forty-niner,
    Soon began to peak and pine,
Thought he ought to join his daughter,
    Now he’s with his Clementine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Light she was and like a fairy,
    And her shoes were number nine,
Herring boxes, without topses,
    Sandals were for Clementine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

In a corner of the churchyard,
    Where the myrtle boughs en twine,
Grow the roses and the posies,
    Fertilized by Clementine.

Oh my darling, Oh my darling,
    Oh my darling, Clementine,
Thou art lost and gone forever,
    Dreadful sorry, Clementine.


Waltzing Matilda

From: SAGReiss

To: SAGReiss

Date: 27 October 2006

Subject: CII

On Wednesday 25 October Catherine went crazy again, this time drunk on bad wine and obsessed with the fact that I had once, days or weeks before, sung Waltzing Matilda to Rose. This because Nichelle's cat is called Matilda. In the middle of her hysterical, six-hour monologue, she tried to go to sleep, then went to sleep on the floor. Rose coughed a little, so Catherine picked her up out of her bed and lied her down on the floor next to herself, all the while accusing me of treating the two of them either like cats or dogs. She claimed, despite the obvious fact that she had put Rose on the floor, where it may have been cold and uncomfortable, that this was somehow my fault. I finally managed to take Rose away from Catherine and put her back in her crib. Catherine droned on for another couple of hours, mostly about the song Waltzing Matilda. Eventually she apologized and went to sleep.

Scott Alexander Gabriel Reiss
http://www.sagreiss.org
sagreiss@sagreiss.org

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited ‘till his billy boiled:
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?”

Up rode the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred.
Down came the troopers, one, two, and three:
“Who’s that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda,
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me,
And he sang as he watched and waited ‘till his billy boiled:
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda,
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me:
“Who’s that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”

Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong.
Up jumped the swaggie and grabbed him with glee,
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”

Up jumped the swagman and sprang into the billabong.
“You’ll never take me alive!” said he,
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong:
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda,
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me,
And he sang as he stowed that jumbuck in his tucker bag:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda,
Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me,
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong:
“Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?”

SAGReiss