“There Is No Next-Time-Round”

From whiskey river:

Shifting brilliancies. Then winter light
In a doorway, and on the stone doorstep
A beggar shivering in silhouette.

So the particular judgement might be set:
Bare wallstead and a cold hearth rained into —
Bright puddle where the soul-free cloud-life roams.

And after the commanded journey, what?
Nothing magnificent, nothing unknown.
A gazing out from far away, alone.

And it is not particular at all,
Just old truth dawning: there is no next-time-round.
Unroofed scope. Knowledge-freshening wind.

(Seamus Heaney, Lightenings: i)

Not from whiskey river; I just liked the soft chime it makes when paired with the above:

The annals say: when the monks of Clonmacnoise
Were all at prayers inside the oratory
A ship appeared above them in the air.

The anchor dragged along behind so deep
It hooked itself into the altar rails
And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill,

A crewman shinned and grappled down the rope
And struggled to release it. But in vain.
‘This man can’t bear our life here and will drown,’

The abbot said, ‘unless we help him.’ So
They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back
Out of the marvellous as he had known it.

(Seamus Heaney, Lightenings: viii [source])

…and:

Outing

I went out because there was no fire in my head
To where I knew black horses grazed and had seen
In summer a red fox flare like sunrise in the field.

The cold air stunned my face. I felt my age,
Leaning against a weathered post
And clenching with one gloved hand

A strand of barbed-wire fence. The horses
Shook their manes and bent long necks
To browse the winter grass. Gray

Clouds clustered overhead. The field
Fluttered like a blanket in the wind,
A billowing of soft, worn hills. Snow

Nuzzled into crevices. Wan light came and went.
I lit a cigarette. The largest horse struck down
With one front hoof upon the hard earth hard

Three times. And that was that. No fox
To lend its matchless spark to that drab scene.
No crows to weight it with their gravity

Like fistfuls of leaden gravel flung
Against an ashen sky. No storm.
No taut suspense of imminent arrival.

A few (i counted five) black horses grazing.
And one man staring out at them, for all the world
Like some lost traveler stopped to ask his way.

And after a while the horses edged off. I drove
The lake road back. Through barren trees i saw
Waves whipped to froth by the wind that had stung

My eyes when i had stood beside that fence,
The wire humming like a harp, and had hoped — for what?
Some sign? Some signal wild as that absent fox.

A flame, however small, to follow out
Across the widening marshlands of our losses.
A beckoning fire, a target moving forward

Through the night. The horse’s great hoof striking
Down upon the frozen ground three times: love this,
Love this, love this. The stars appeared

In spaces between clouds, their constellated order
Fragmented, dimmed: wreckage adrift on the milky way.
Though the evening deepened around me, i drove

Without lights, my eyes adapting to the darkness,
To the world as it was, i thought, and will be: blind.
No guides, no signs, no beacon fires.

The horse’s hoof struck down three times.
The barbed-wire whined. The fox stayed out of sight.
I drove along the lake, the stars above in disarray.

(Nick Bozanick, from This Once: Collected Poems, 1976-1996 [source])

Finally: The four lads performed this version of “Till There Was You” (lyrics below) at the Royal Variety Performance show at Prince Of Wales Theatre on November 4th, 1963; they’d go on to play it as their second number in their first appearance on the US Ed Sullivan Show. Says Wikipedia:

The Beatles’ version was included on their albums With the Beatles (UK Release, 1963) and Meet the Beatles (US Release, 1964). The song was the only Broadway tune the Beatles ever recorded.

“Till There Was You” was a minor hit in the UK for Peggy Lee in March 1961. Paul McCartney was introduced to her music by his older cousin, Bett Robbins, who would occasionally baby-sit the two McCartney brothers. McCartney said: “I had no idea until much later that it was from The Music Man.” “Till There Was You” was part of the Beatles repertoire in 1962 and performed at the Star Club in Hamburg. It became illustrative of the Beatles versatility, proving they could appeal to all sections of an audience, moving easily from ballads to rock and roll, as in their live 1963 Royal Command Performance when they followed this song with “Twist and Shout”.

McCartney seems to be straining pretty hard here (ditto in the Ed Sullivan appearance, also viewable on YouTube). His joke when introducing the song — “by our favorite American group, Sophie Tucker” — referred to the popular entertainer who was famous for (among many other things) her… generous proportions.

Lyrics:

Till There Was You
(words and music by Meredith Wilson)

There were bells on a hill
But I never heard them ringing
No I never heard them at all
Till there was you

There were birds in the sky
But I never saw them winging
No I never saw them at all
Till there was you

Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew

There was love all around
But I never heard it singing
No I never heard it at all
Till there was you

Then there was music and wonderful roses
They tell me in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew

There was love all around
But I never heard it singing
No I never heard it at all
Till there was you

Till there was you

___________________________

Off-topic addendum: Kate Lord Brown, of the thought-provoking and sometimes hilarious What Kate Did Next blog, has flattered me by awarding Running After My Hat (and several other blogs) something called the Noblesse Oblige Award. (That’s the logo/badge at the left.)

If you strip away some of the trappings of the aristocratic society in which the phrase was first used, the French phrase noblesse oblige means, roughly, a sense in someone in a place of privilege that s/he has an obligation to those who don’t have the same privilege. Which is as nice a description as I can imagine of what a blogger (or a writer in general) aspires to — so yeah, I’m flattered.

Kate’s post lays out various terms and conditions of the award, which I probably won’t get around to posting in full until Monday. In the meantime: thanks, Kate.