One of the great ballads of English literature, "Sir Patrick Spens" tells a tale of a sailor, the sea and tragedy, the stuff of legend. It has been covered many times by folk musicians through the years, such as Buffy St. Marie, the great Robin Williamson, and a true legend himself, Ewan MacColl. I've chosen a version by Fairport Convention, since they lean more to folk-rock and, well, because I like it very much.
One can hardly ignore the Sandy Denny version, with Fairport Convention, so here is that for those prefer her dulcet tones:
And for those who prefer their ballads on the page, you can find it here since it's a little long to include in a post.
When the Gentle were dead these inherited their coats Now they gather in late autumn and quarrel over the air Demanding something for their shadows that are naked And silent and learning
W. S. Merwin
The mystery is here - who, for instance, are the Gentle - and over 45 years later followers of Merwin know he tills the same soul, while Nature calls the tune. This time of year, as the sun has edged over the horizon I can see for the entire two miles, and beyond, that I walk home from work, the evening movement of, I'm told, up to 16,000 crows every evening across the greater Pittsburgh environs.
If you've never been to Pittsburgh, it is startling to realize how perfectly integrated this mid-size American city is with the natural environment. It would take a lot shorter period of time than most American cities to revert back to its original condition if, for instance, the much lauded Pittsburgh zombie apocalypse ever came to be.
I ran across this poem in an early volume of Merwin's work, entitled Animae, which I found in one of great local used and rare booksellers, Caliban Books. A volume full of wonder.
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with our gods out of town
they raise a ruckus...
crows
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