Date: Wed 25 Feb 1998 - 17:25:17 EET
I enclose a letter routinely intercepted from --------- to an associate in Peloria.
Needless to say the has sender been placed under close observation. I recommend the
arrest of --------- and his correspondent.
Our Irripi "comrades" see some value in the study of inferior cultures, but there are
limits to what should be tolerated. ----------- has clearly overstepped the boundary
between academic study and the dissemination of alien propaganda.
All Hail the Goddess,
I apologise for my delay in writing - the interminable collecting of figures for the
Imperial Auditors will one day take over my entire life ! As consolation for the
overlong absence of your name from my quill (though not my thought, rest assured) I am
sending you another song transcribed from the barbarians. This one seams to be of recent
and local origin - only the Pavic barbarians surely have the cosmopolitan mix of tribal
cultures to produce a work such as this. I need not point out perhaps that this is not
one for you public lectures on primitive cultural music. The "tune" is an unfamiliar
one, played on those awful drone-sacks, though fortunately the song is usually
unaccompanied by those instruments of torture. I enclose a translation of the words into
a more civilised language at the end.
Always your friend and pupil,
[Roch the wind in the clear days dawnin'
Blaws the cloods heelster-gowdy o'er the bay
But it's mair nor a roch wind blawin'
Through the great glen o' the wurld the day
It's a thote that wid gar oor rottans
A' they rogues that gang gallus fresh an' gay
Tak the road an' seek ither loanins
For their ill ploys tae sport an' play.] (1)
Nae mair will oor [bonnie callants] (2)
Bend the knee when a braggart crously craws
Nor wee weans (3) fi longhouse an' clachan
Mourn the freedoms of their faithers lost
The broken faimilies o' oor land sae harried
Will unavenged mourn nae mair, nae mair
As a' the clans, yin tae ither married
Sweeps the vile barracks o' an empire bare
So come a' ye at hame wi' freedom
Never mind whit the hoodies croak fur doom
In oor hoose a' the bairns (3) o' Sartar
Will find breid, barley-bree (4) an' biddin' room
When Argarth (5) lights the flame in Whitewall
A' the roses an' geans (6) will turn tae bloom
An' the thunder of the raging white bull (7)
Knocks the fel temples o' the rid moon doon
(1)Rough the wind in the clear days dawning
Blows the clouds head-over-heels" over the bay
But it's more than a rough wind blowing
Through the great glen of the world today
It 's a thought that would make our rats
All those rogues that strut about/posture
Take to the road and find other places/locations
Their evil plans to carry out
(2) "fine young folk"
(3) weans & bairns are both words for children
(4) a local drink
(5) not as others assume a proper name, but rather a barbarian word
translating as he/she who will come/ the promised one i.e. a son
(or daughter) of Sartar
(6) apple trees
(7) I am unable to locate this allusion in the traditional barbarian myths,
perhaps I misheard this phrase.
(Apologies to Hamish Henderson)
Save the Jags.
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