The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #69493 Message #1179081
Posted By: Amos
05-May-04 - 11:35 PM
Thread Name: Song Challenge! Part 95
Subject: RE: SONG CHALLENGE! Part 95
The Tale of the Lebanese Maiden
Tune: Barb'r'y Ellen
Click to Play
A rich young maid in London town, as proud as any other
Swore up and down not to be wed, and so she told her mother!
"Oh, mother dear, what may I do, to keep myself a virgin?
For I would live a single life in spite of Father's urgin'!"
This mother was a clever girl – she was wiser far than many
From the ancient hills of Ba'la'bakk, near the banks of Na'r Al Lillani
She knew her daughter through and through, knew she was fair strong-headed
And figured out a path to take, to ensure she would be bedded.
"Now your father wants you for to wed, Akbar the rich young jeweler.
But in our land an ancient right will free you of this suitor!
For all his wealth if you claim the right, a challenge you may name him!
And should he fail, by next night fall, then you are free from his claimin'!"
So all you need to do, my dear, to balk yon Akbar's wooin',
Is claim the right to name the task that he will lose, pursuing;
So put your wits to something rich, that will not yield to his powers
Some task that he could never do, in the next twenty-four hours!
The women thus did long confer, to find the perfect puzzle
And sometimes wise the Mother spoke, but often she stayed muzzled;
And by next day the maid did say, For sure, I will constrain him!
Pray tell my Father I invoke the rites of ancient Canaan!
Her father was a worldly man, and worth his millions many
But still he honored ancient law, from the Hittites of Leblani
So when his daughter claimed her rites, to set a task of trial
He hesitated not a bit, and even raised a smile.
Next morning on the goodwife's door, young Akbar came a-knocking!
Oh Lady, please, I'm on my knees, we must do some honest talkin'
In just a day, without some help, like a new calf to the slaughter
I am bound to lose my struggle plain, and lose your lovely daughter!
How now, what claim has she imposed? What trial has she you tested?
Come gather yourself, and be not faint! You surely won't be bested!
Her task it is to bring her sweets, unholy weight and measure!
And prove it all was bought for cash, it is my damsel's pleasure!
But cash I've not, and sweets I've not, my riches are invested
And as the day is Sunday now, I surely must be bested!
For it would cost two thousand pounds, in cash and with it handy
Still finding some place on Holy Day that would sell me so much candy!!
And then his tears did fall like rain, his heart was plainly breaking
And thus the mother was bestirred, and pity she was taking.
She hastened to her closets rich, and to her strongbox hidden
Where forty years of savings lay, just waiting for her bidding
And she put on her finest silk and called her driver soft-o
And told him he should take her out, to the Woolworth at King's Cross, o!
And there she made her great demand, swearing against the stars-o
That she would have their whole year stock, of candy bars by Mars-o!
Then in the trunk full ten times twenty cases they were loaded
So rich they were with Mars' best, the car almost exploded
Two thousand pounds in ironed notes, to fill his desperate craving
She handed to the Woolworths store, from forty years of saving.
Then she did fly to the suitor's side, and with a threat of violence
She quickly gave him what he sought, and swore his tongue to silence!
And he did pass the daughter's test, and so they told her father
And she gave up, and wept and said, she would do as he would rather.
Three months went by and the daughter came, a-looking for her mother
And said she was well satisfied, and would never seek another.
But still your plan was all awry! at least, that's how I feel, oh!
For thanks to those damned candy bars, I've gained 'most thirty kilos!