(no subject)
With apologies to Bob Esty for the theft of his tune (I have no ability to write tunes, so I steal other peoples').
Andromache's Lament
TTTO "Worms of the Earth"
My mother in law died today
An aged and broken old slave
No more light in her eyes yesterday
Then when she was laid in her grave
Once the warm, gracious woman who welcomed me home
When I came to her hall as the bride of her son
Full of life, wise and regal, a queen to her bones
Now great Hecuba’s power is done.
For we are the women of Troy, against the Lions of Greece.
Their glory, their honor, their bold epic tales are all built on the shards of our peace.
We wove and spun, gave our bodies to bear, gave our minds to wise rule of our folk,
And in one fatal night, all we built and we loved burned to ash for a goddess’s joke.
Is a goddess a silly young girl
To spat for an apple of gold,
To swoon for a shepherd boy’s curls
And detest us who served You of old?
Athena I worshiped with spindle and loom
And Hera did honor as Queen of us all,
And They sent all I loved to a fiery doom
For a fool boy who thought with his balls.
Penthesilea, bravest of queens,
You stood by our side without fail
Though you fell to their swords in the end
‘Gainst the gods’ favorites, who can prevail?
They molested your corpse and they slandered your name
Left your body there, cooling and slack
But I envy your shade, for you had what I crave
A sword and trained arm to fight back.
Achilles, who slaughtered my heart,
You’re naught but a petulant cheat
If not for your mother’s wise art,
You’d’ve lain in the dust at his feet.
But if Hector had lived and Achilles had died
He’d’ve treated your body with honor and pride
Not dragged in the dust while the whole city cried
For the last, greatest guardian of Troy.
You brutes, not content to kill men
You tore from me my only child
Dashed out his brains, tossed his corpse
In the pit where the children were piled
The children whose laughter brought life to old Troy
Filled the hearts of their mothers with fondness and joy
Now we keen o’er small bodies too silent, too still
Rest among them, my own darling boy.
For we are the women of Troy, against the Lions of Greece.
Their glory, their honor, their bold epic tales are all built on the shards of our peace.
You bards with your Muses, who sing of their names,
Mind the cost, while you praise valiant deeds -
Wherever men battle for honor or fame
There are women and children who bleed.
I needed to get that out. Now, to take Bear to the great big science fair in DC...