asakiyume: (feathers on the line)
Sometimes I feel fond of a person based solely on one acquaintance. That's how it is for me with Benjamin Zephaniah: I knew him solely for his "Tam Lyn Retold," which he created with Eliza Carthy as part of The Imagined Village, a project "intended to produce modern folk music that represented modern multiculturalism in the United Kingdom" (Wikipedia). "Tam Lyn Retold" recasts Tam Lin as a war refugee threatened with deportation whose lover holds onto him despite his turning into "a victim, a loser, a pimp, and a real mister mean" until he manifests as his true self again, "just a cool human being." The way Zephaniah narrates the tale makes me want to see it as a full-length film.

I never chased up Zephaniah further, but it turns out he was a beloved poet, performer, novelist, and actor, appearing in the series Peaky Blinders. And now, sadly, he's no longer with us: he just passed away from a brain tumor he was only diagnosed with eight weeks ago.

Thank you for the gift of your art and your self, Mr. Zephanaiah!

(Photo from this BBC remembrance)
asakiyume: created by the ninja girl (Default)






Anaïs Mitchell's version of "Riddles Wisely Expounded" has these questions:

“What is greener than the grass?
And what is smoother than the glass?”
“What is louder than a horn?
And what is sharper than a thorn?”
“What is deeper than the sea?
And what is longer than the way?”

And these answers:

“Envy’s greener than the grass
Flattery’s smoother than the glass”
“Rumor’s louder than a horn
Slander’s sharper than a thorn”
“Regret is deeper than the sea
But love is longer than the way”

So here is a twofold task for you. First, can you answer one or two of the following, in comments? And then, can you add a question or two of your own, on this pattern? And, if you stop by and others have already commented, feel free to answer one of their questions rather than one of these.

What is blacker than coal?
What is more slippery than oil?
What is faster than lightning?
What is more bold than a lion?
What is more fragile than a bubble?
What is colder than ice?
What is hotter than the sun?

[livejournal.com profile] sovay asks,
What is sleeker than the silk?
What is harder than the stone?


[livejournal.com profile] sartorias asks,
What is purer than the spring waters?
What is sweeter than blossom honey?


[livejournal.com profile] pjthompson, commenting on Twitter, asks,
What is slower than an old woman's step?
What is more barren than an icebox? a cabinet of ice?**
What is more crowded than the head of a pin?

(She supplies answers too, but I want to see what you'll supply)
**I misremembered--this latter is her actual wording

[livejournal.com profile] marycatelli asks,
What is earlier than a crocus?
What is later than an aster?


[livejournal.com profile] pigshitpoet asks,
What is loftier than a cloud?

[livejournal.com profile] cmcmck asks,
What is fouler than a swine?
What is deader than a nail
What deeper than a mine?
And what is slower than a snail?


[livejournal.com profile] khiemtran proposes some questions that can all be answered with "Holyoke Voles." (This makes more sense in the context of this thread.)
Who are faster than lightning?
Who are blacker than coal?
Who are bolder than a lion?
(Yes!) It's the Holyoke Voles!

Who are sleeker than the silk?
Who are tougher than the Moles?
Who are harder than the stone?
(Yes!) It's the Holyoke Voles!


[livejournal.com profile] marycatelli has a new question duo:
What is more silver than silver?
What is more gold than gold?








asakiyume: created by the ninja girl (Default)






I found a fairy jacket, hanging on a bush, and thought of "Scarborough Fair."

tell her to dry it on yonder thorn

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Sewn without seams or fine needlework,
If she would be a true love of mine.

Tell her to wash it in yonder well,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Where never spring water or rain ever fell,
And she shall be a true lover of mine.

Tell her to dry it on yonder thorn,
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme;
Which never bore blossom since Adam was born,
Then she shall be a true lover of mine.



asakiyume: created by the ninja girl (Default)
I've been meaning to share this piece of B-town history with you for almost a year. The article from which I'm drawing the facts is Cliff McCarthy and Paul Weigold, "Mysteries of Local History: The murder of Julia Town Warren," The Sentinel, January 3, 2013, page 8.

Julia and Emily were sisters sat next to each other in birth order in the Town family, a family destined for the poorhouse. By 1855, everyone in town knew it, including the girls themselves. They and two younger sisters had been "hired out" by the town--an arrangement somewhere between foster care and slavery: the families who received the children (in 1855 Julia was about fourteen and Emily was nine; their youngest sister, Delia, was only four) cared for them and fed them in return for their labor.

Julia, described as "under medium size, with full bust, rosy cheeks, dark brown hair, blue eyes, and withal quite pretty," managed at age fifteen to inveigle seventeen-year-old John Warren, a boy who ran away from home and who had "not sustained a very good character since," into marriage by claiming to be pregnant--but when no baby was forthcoming the relationship grew rocky . . . and ended in Julia's murder at John's hands.

What about Emily? She must have been an impetuous, hot-tempered girl because at age thirteen she'd been sent to the Industrial School for Girls, in Lancaster, Massachusetts--a reform school--for the crime of setting fire to a wealthy farmer's barn, causing the loss of "thirteen head of cattle and several swine . . . His loss was estimated at $2500."

This--setting fire to the property of the wealthy--seems maybe to have been a thing? And maybe a specifically female thing? It came up in the turn-of-the-century potboiler King Spruce that I read a few years ago. In the story, an illegitimate, hard-done-by girl sets fire to a bunch of timber land (more here).

The Industrial School for Girls "emphasized the teaching of useful skills and proper behavior to help the girls rise above their circumstances" . . . and it appears in Emily's case to have been successful: she married Solomon Haskell of Coventry, Rhode Island, in 1864 and raised two boys to adulthood. She died young(ish), though--at forty-six--and ironically, is buried in the same graveyard as her sister's murderer.

I recommend reading the original article--there's fodder for a full quiver of ballads in there.

PS. Emily's middle name was Sophronia. Now there's a name you don't hear much anymore.


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