to blow me down.

[chorus of waifs:] blow me down.

[soldier:] on this stretch of ground
i'll lay me down.

[chorus of waifs:] lay me down.

[soldier:] to sleep.

[PART IV]

[evening]

[widow:] o the wind is blowing, it hurts your skin
as you climb up hillside, forest and fen.

your arms full of lullabies, orchids and wine
your memories wrapped within paper and twine.

the room that you lie in is dusty and hard
sleeping soft babies on piles of yards
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk
your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk.

when the dawn commes to greet you, you'll rise with clothes on
and advance with the others, singing old songs
of cattle and maidens and withered old queens.

let the music carry you on.

the room that you lie in is dusty and hard
sleeping soft babies on piles of yards
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk
your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk.

[PART V]

[woman:] darling dear what have you done?
your clothes are town, your make-up runs.

[daughter:] i ran through brambles, blooming thistle

i washed my face in the river when you whistled me on.

[woman:] darling dear, what hav eyou done?
your hands and face are smeared with blood.

[daughter:] the chaplain came and called me out
to beat and to butcher his mother's sow

[woman:] but darling dear, they found him dead
this morning on the riverbed.

but hush now darling, don't you cry.
your reward's in the sweet by-and -by.
hush now baby, don't you cry.

your reward's in the sweet by-and-by.

[crone:] and now we've seen your powers
softly stretch the hours
you're a fickle little twister
are you sweet on your sister?
as now you go wandering home.

"The Infanta"

Here she comes in her palanquin
On the back of an elephant
On a bed made of linen and sequins and silk
All astride on her father's line
With the king and his concubines
And her nurse with her pitchers of liquors and milk
And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

Among five score pachyderm
Each canopied and passengered
Sit the duke and the duchess' luscious young girls
Within sight of the baronness
Seething spite for this live largesse
By her side sits the baron
Her barrenness barbs her
And we'll all come praise the infanta

And we'll all come praise the infanta

A phalanx on camelback
Thirty ranks on a forward tack
Followed close, their shiny bright standards a-waving
While behind in their coach, in fours
Ride the wives of the king of Moors
And the veiled young virgin, the prince's betrothed
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta

And as she sits upon her place
Her innocence laid on her face
From all atop the parapets blow a multitude of coronets
Melodies rhapsodical and fair
And all our hearts afire
The sky ablaze with cannon fire
We all raise our voices to the air

To the air...

And above all this falderal
On a bed made of chaparral
She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow
And the babe, all in slumber dreams
Of a place filled with quiet streams
And the lake where her cradle was pulled from the water
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta

To the air...

And above all this falderal
On a bed made of chaparral
She is laid, a coronal placed on her brow
And the babe, all in slumber dreams
Of a place filled with quiet streams
And the lake where her cradle was pulled from the water
And we'll all come praise the infanta
And we'll all come praise the infanta