In a room of the palace Black Mrs Behemoth Gave way to wroth And the wildest malice. Cried Mrs Behemoth, "Come, come, Come, court lady, Doomed like a moth, Through palace rooms shady!" The candle flame Seemed a yellow pompion, Sharp as a scorpion, Nobody came... Only a bugbear, Air unkind, That bud-furred papoose, The young spring wind, Blew out the candle. Where is it gone? To flat Coromandel Rolling on!
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Composition:
- Set to music by William Walton (1902 - 1983), "Black Mrs. Behemoth", published 1951, first performed 1928 [ reciter, flute (double piccolo), clarinet (contrabass clarinet), trumpet, alto saxophone, violoncello(s), percussion ], from Façade
Text Authorship:
- by Edith Sitwell (1887 - 1964), "Black Mrs. Behemoth", appears in Troy Park, first published 1925
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Researcher for this page: Dan Eggleston
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 21
Word count: 71