Here’s a version of a song from my Whorls album, recorded last Saturday at the Live Stream Concert, in which I turned W.B. Yeats poems into songs. Your guess is as good as mine when it comes to what this is about! It was part of a show with Everlasting Voices, which went to Tokyo and Hyderabad, India. Both of those trips were extraordinary for me and great experiences. Have you a favourite Yeats poem that I mightn’t know of? Here’s the poem.
MY mother dandled me and sang,
‘How young it is, how young! ‘
And made a golden cradle
That on a willow swung.
‘He went away,’ my mother sang,
‘When I was brought to bed,’
And all the while her needle pulled
The gold and silver thread.
She pulled the thread and bit the thread
And made a golden gown,
And wept because she had dreamt that I
Was born to wear a crown.
‘When she was got,’ my mother sang,
I heard a sea-mew cry,
And saw a flake of the yellow foam
That dropped upon my thigh.’
How therefore could she help but braid
The gold into my hair,
And dream that I should carry
The golden top of care?