Music
Of Ye Birch Tree Slain
Music: Dmitri Petras
Lyrics: Andrew Sokolov
©2004 Wolfmare
Comment
A kind of a folk tale. This is a story of an ordinary man in ordinary conditions. There must be a number of such legends in various villages and various countries, but unfortunately I had not heard them, so I had to devise one myself. So, once upon a time there lived a man. And there lived a birch who played with the man. And there lived a girl who came to the dreams of the man to play with him. The man was displeased with both of them. He decided to begin with the birch and cut it, but fortunately the birch happened to be the girl too. So everything is pretty good since no one is to come and play with him. Our happy lumberjack has only to smile and come to the wood. So he did. He hanged himself. On another birch tree, for sure. (A.S.)
It was the most hard song to compose. We tried a number of arrangements. We wanted a fiddle in the middle of the song, but failed. We recorded the clean female vocal at the very end of recording sessions (and tried many male and female vocalists before). Nevertheless, the tale ends good. For us, but not for the characters of the song. Moreover, no one can say who eats whom at the beginning of the song. It was Sergei Loginov who recorded the sounds in the wood, and he was also surprised with that addition to the birds’ pipe. Too many victims for a song, isn’t it? (D.P.)
Lyrics
Once there lived a man in a small house of wood
Just before the threshold tall birch-tree stood
Knocking at his window and pulling his hair
All of that he did not care
Days passed the nights and the nights passed the days
Human’s path was his only way
Once under the full moon he fell asleep
A girl came to him and began to weep
Birch: Please, please, darling come to me
Man: How can I not knowing thee?
Birch: Please, please, darling come to me
Man: How can I not knowing thee?
Birch: Always I’ve been here don’t be surprised
You’ll see me always just close your eyes
Knocking at your window and pulling your hair
Man: I’m sick and tied of you so beware
Birch: Please, please, darling come to me
Man: Oh, well, I’ll come and cut thee
Birch: Please, please, darling come to me
Man: Oh, well, I’ll come and cut thee
Birch:
Be my blacksmith to forge the new swords
Be my staff for wild waters to cross
Be my hop to bitter my drink
Be my key to break wooden link
I’m your smithy to forge the new sword
I’m your way to the stallions of Njord
I’m your mare to ride through the night
I’m your birch tree with tears so bright
Then he took an axe and exited the house
Came to tall white tree and closed his eyes
The girl came to him one and final time
But he preferred to close his mind
Man: Oh, well, I have come to thee
Please, please, don’t worry me
Oh, well, I have come to thee
Please, please, don’t worry me
His hands were above and her waist below
Thus he embraced her in moment slow
The cold iron passed into her heart
When his eyes had opened they were apart
So he turned to mirror again and again
Blood on his axe, blood on his hands
Grinning and laughing he came to the wood
Hanged himself – now he’s ravens’ food
Man: Now you will never come to me
Birch: Oh, well, good night to thee
Man: Now you will never come to me
Birch: Oh, well, good night to thee
No one now lives in a small house of wood
Nothing there is, so the tale ends good