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The Deserter (When the Battle It Was Won)

anonimo
Lingua: Inglese


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[XIX° sec.?]
Testo trovato sul sempre ottimo Mudcat Café
La fonte è “Songs of the Newfoundland Outports”, a cura di Kenneth Peacock, 1965

Songs of the Newfoundland Outports

Una canzone che in una versione raccolta in Nova Scotia termina semplicemente con la prigionia del soldato disertore, mentre in un'altra scovata nel Newfoundland (sempre in Canada) negli anni 50 dall'etnomusicologo Kenneth Howard Peacock (1922–2000) prosegue nel racconto. “Willie” viene fucilato per diserzione e l'ufficiale che ha comandato il plotone d'esecuzione (anvédi 'sto stronzo!) si mette a corteggiare la di lui ormai ex fidanzata Mary. La quale lo lascia avvicinarsi e poi gli spara, uccidendolo e vendicando il suo amore... Brava! Ben fatto!
You tender-hearted parents wherever that you be,
I hope you'll pay attention and listen unto me;
It's of an agéd couple who had one only son,
He was shot as a deserter when the battle it was won.

He was both tall and handsome, his complexion it was fair,
His eyes were of the deepest blue and dark brown was his hair,
And as he gazed upon the crowd he gave one heavy sigh,
"If it was not for my father I would not care to die."

About a three weeks after as I stood in the field
A letter came into my hand and deep black was the seal;
I quickly tore it open, those words did meet my eye:
"Come home, come home, dear Willie, once more before I die."

Oh who could slight a dying wish from such a mother dear?
Before the dawning of the day my mother I stood near;
She pressed me to her sobbing heart, those words she said with joy,
"You're welcome home dear Willie, my own, my soldier-boy."

I scarce had time to press her lips when a heavy foot drew near,
I turned myself around and an officer appeared.
He said, "You cowardly rascal who from the field did run,
You will be shot as a deserter when the battle it is won."

I pointed to the bed-side, "Be careful what you say,
My mother she is dying and on her death-bed do lay;
I don't care if you shoot me, I from her will not go
Until she do recover or to her grave do go."

He sent his men around me and took me right away
Before I could defend myself or have one word to say;
They sent me to the guard-house where many had gone before,
And my poor dying mother I never saw no more.

The officer that brought me here he swore away my life,
He thinks he will gain Mary, she's going to be my wife;
He thinks he will gain Mary, that girl whom I adore,
But to her true-love soldier she proved faithfuller than before.

About a two days after an officer appeared,
"Come shoot this cowardly rascal, no more of this I'll hear."
He fired and shot young Willie, a bullet pierced his heart,
And from his true-love Mary on earth they had to part.

The officer a-courting unto Mary he did go,
Which proved his sad misfortune and earthly overthrow;
She said, "You shot my Willie and death shall be your bride."
She fired and shot the officer, he fell dead at her side.

inviata da Bernart Bartleby - 26/7/2017 - 21:14


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