Once, in a roostery there lived a speckled, and when- ever she laid an egg this hen ecstatically cried: 'O progeny miraculous, particular spectaculous, what a wonderful hen am I!' Down in a pond nearby perchance a fat and broody carp was basking, but her ears where sharp -- she heard Dame Cackle cry: 'O progeny miraculous, particular spectaculous, what a wonderful hen am I!' 'Ah, Cackle,' bubbled she, 'for your single egg, O silly one, I lay at least a million; suppose for each I cried: "O progeny miraculous, particular spectaculous!" what a hullaballoo there'd be!'
Creatures
Song Cycle by Elizabeth Maconchy (1907 - 1994)
1. The hen and the carp  [sung text checked 1 time]
Authorship:
- by Ian Serraillier (1912 - 1994), "The hen and the carp"
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]2. The snail  [sung text checked 1 time]
At sunset, when the night-dews fall [ ... ]
Authorship:
- by John Reeves (1909 - 1978), "The snail", copyright ©
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This text may be copyright, so we will not display it until we obtain permission to do so or discover it is public-domain.3. Rendez‑vous with a beetle  [sung text checked 1 time]
Meet me in Usk [ ... ]
Authorship:
- by Emile Victor Rieu, CBE (1887 - 1972), copyright ©
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This text may be copyright, so we will not display it until we obtain permission to do so or discover it is public-domain.4. Tiger! Tiger!  [sung text checked 1 time]
Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare sieze the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp! When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Authorship:
- by William Blake (1757 - 1827), "The tyger", appears in Songs of Innocence and Experience, in Songs of Experience, no. 12, first published 1794
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "El tigre", copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- CHI Chinese (中文) [singable] (Dr Huaixing Wang) , copyright © 2024, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Le tigre", copyright © 2009, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Walter A. Aue) , "Der Tiger", copyright © 2006, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- GER German (Deutsch) (Thomas F. Schubert) , "Der Tiger", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- RUS Russian (Русский) [singable] (Dmitri Nikolaevich Smirnov) , "Тигр", copyright ©, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
4. Cat's funeral  [sung text checked 1 time]
Bury her deep, down deep [ ... ]
Authorship:
- by Emile Victor Rieu, CBE (1887 - 1972), copyright ©
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This text may be copyright, so we will not display it until we obtain permission to do so or discover it is public-domain.6. The dove and the wren  [sung text checked 1 time]
The dove says "Coo, coo, what shall I do? I shall never be able to bring up two." "Pooh!" says the wren, "I've got ten, And rear them all like gentlemen!"
Authorship:
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]7. Cat!  [sung text checked 1 time]
Cat! Scat! Atter her, atter her, Sleeky flatterer Spit-fire chatterer, Scatter her, scatter her Off her mat! Wuff! Wuff! Treat her rough! Git her, git her, Whiskery spitter! Catch her, catch her, Green-eyed scratcher! Slithery, hisser, Don't miss her! Run till you're dithery, Hithery, thithery Pfitts! pfitts! How she spits! Spitch! Spatch! Can't she scratch! Scritching the bark Of the sycamore tree, She's reached her ark And's hissing at me -- Pfitts! Pfitts! Wuff! Wuff! Scat, cat! That's that!
Authorship:
- by Eleanor Farjeon (1881 - 1965)
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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]