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Words, with apologies to Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Music by Richard deCosta
I saw him once before,
As he passed by the door,
And again
The pavement stones resound,
As he totters o’er the ground
With his cane.
They say that in his prime,
Ere the pruning-knife of Time
Cut him down,
Not a better man was found
By the Crier on his round
Through the town.
My grandmamma has said—
Poor old lady, she is dead
Long ago—
That he had a Roman nose,
And his cheek was like a rose
In the snow;
But now his nose is thin,
And it rests upon his chin
Like a staff,
And a crook is in his back,
And a melancholy crack
In his laugh.
I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!
And if I should live to be
The last leaf upon the tree
In the spring,
Let them smile, as I do now,
At the old forsaken bough
Where I cling.
-=-
In the winding streets of a town steeped in history and tradition, echoes the footsteps of an old town crier, a figure once robust and full of life, now bent and weary with age. This eclectic electronic and electroacoustic composition, set in a slow, head-nodding, plodding rhythm of 3/4 time, seeks to tell his story, a tale both poignant and whimsical, filled with nostalgia and a touch of melancholy.
The music meanders through the cobbled pathways of the town, following the crier as he totters with his cane, his once-strong voice now a feeble cry. In his prime, he was the herald of news and proclamations, a vital link in the community's fabric. But time, that relentless sculptor, has worn him down, leaving behind a thin nose resting upon his chin like a staff, a crook in his back, and a melancholy crack in his laugh.
Yet, there is a dignity in his persistence, a beauty in his continued existence as the last leaf upon the tree in the spring. The composition captures this essence, weaving together sounds both organic and synthetic to create a sonic landscape that is at once old and new. The instrumentation is rich and varied, reflecting the many facets of the crier's character, from the Roman nose and rosy cheeks of his youth to the old three-cornered hat and breeches that now seem so queer.
The lyrics, inspired by the classic poetry of a bygone era, paint a vivid picture of the crier's life, filled with love, loss, and the inexorable march of time. They invite the listener to reflect on the transient nature of existence, the fleeting moments that make up a life, and the universal human experience of aging.
So come, take a stroll through the town with the old crier, let the music guide you through the streets and alleys, past the mossy marbles and carved names on the tomb. Allow yourself to be transported to a place where the past and the present merge, where the simple and the profound coexist, and where the dance of life continues, ever-changing, ever-enduring, like the last leaf clinging to the forsaken bough.
- Genre
- Novelty