ΜΟΥΣΙΚΕΣ ΠΑΡΑΛΛΑΓΕΣ ΜΕ ΔΙΑΦΟΡΕΤΙΚΟ ΘΕΜΑ

1. Foggy Foggy Dew

( Παραδοσιακή Αγγλική ερωτική μπαλάντα
των αρχών του 19ου αιώνα)

When I was a bachelor I lived all alone
and worked at the weaver's trade
And the only, only thing that I ever did wrong,
was to woo a fair young maid.
I wooed her in the winter time, and in the summer too . . .
And the only, only thing I did that was wrong
was to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

One night she came to my bedside when I lay fast asleep,
She laid her head upon my bed and she began to weep.
She sighed, she cried, she damn'd near died,
she said: "What shall I do?"
So I hauled her into bed and I covered up her head,
just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

Oh, I am a bachelor and I live with my son,
and we work at the weaver's trade.
And ev'ry single time that I look into his eyes,
he reminds me of the fair young maid.
He reminds me of the winter time, and of the summer too,
And of the many, many times that I held her in my arms,
just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

***********************************************
Foggy Dew

(Κλασικό Ιρλανδέζικο τραγούδι εμπνευσμένο από τα
αιματηρά γεγονότα της αιματηρής εξέγερσης των
Δουβλινέζων κατά των Άγγλων το Πάσχα του 1916.
Η μουσική του βασίζεται στην προηγούμενη εγγλέζικη μπαλάντα. )

As down the glen one Easter morn
To a city fair rode I,
There armed lines of marching men
In squadrons passed me by.
No pipe did hum, no battle drum
Did sound its loud tattoo
But the Angelus' bells o'er the Liffey swells
Rang out in the foggy dew.

Right proudly high in Dublin town
Hung they out a flag of war.
'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky
Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar.
And from the plains of Royal Meath
Strong men came hurrying through;
While Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns
Sailed in through the foggy dew.

The bravest fell, and the requiem bell
Rang mournfully and clear
For those who died that Easter-tide
In the springing of the year.
While the world did gaze with deep amaze
At those fearless men but few
Who bore the fight that freedom's light
Might shine through the foggy dew.

And back through the glen I rode again
And my heart with grief was sore
For I parted then with valiant men
Whom I never shall see more
But to and fro
In my dreams I go
And I kneel and pray for you
For slavery fled
Oh, glorious dead
When you fell in the foggy dew.