The Bay Tree

This is the third “political song” I wrote in three weeks. For the record:

1. Our Thoughts are Our Own, completed during the week ending October 1, 2005.
2. A Warning to Tyrants, completed during the week ending October 8, 2005.
3. The Bay Tree (this song), completed the week ending October 15, 2005.

Suffice it to say that I was mightily annoyed and have a long commute to work. (I love commuting, as long as I don't have to drive; my commute is almost entirely by train, and I find I get more done on the train than I do sitting in my office or at home)

This is a good example of how an idea might get subsumed into another song. At the beginning of the “political trilogy” I had the idea of a song where a king demonstrated he had power over a duke, knight, peasant, etc., and finally came to a blind poet. The poet said that he would hurt the king more than anyone else ever could; the king laughed at this and said “You? What can you do?” and had the poet thrown in prison, executed, whatever (I hadn't worked that part out). But the poet had the last laugh: he wrote a song/poem about the king, so the king was ever after only known for his ridiculous excesses. I didn't write that song (I'm not that vain), but I included a reference to the idea in the last verse...

The music is Dargason.

There was an ancient king of this land Who ruled by force of his tyrant's hand He said that any that he might meet Must bow down low at his royal feet. One day he came to an old bay tree And said that "You must bow down to me. Or else my justice will strike you down Like snakes that lash out from under ground." The tree said "Kings should enjoy the sun, I've seen them come and go ev'ry one, And none but asked me to genuflect, Save those whose reigns deserved no respect." The king said "You will obey my word, No matter how foolish or how absurd, No prince, no peasant, no bird, no stone Shall dare defy a word from my throne." The tree said "You've got a lot to learn, Respect is something that must be earned, On sheep or cows you may force your way, But men and women must have their say." The king in fury cut down the tree Its limbs he scattered from sea to sea He said "These broken boughs testify That none my slightest wish may defy! "So on my throne or my chamber pot, If I should force out a royal thought You'd best leap up to obey my whims, Or else you'll end like these broken limbs." But trees will grow where there's fertile ground, And from the seeds scattered all around, A sapling straight and tall quickly grew, On royal whims and the morning dew. The king's long gone and his name's forgot, His deeds unsung and his works unsought, But bay leaves everywhere testify To those who would a bad king defy.