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  •  Feudal folk songs (none)
    I'm thinking about posting folk song lyrics in every abortion thread I see, for a while. You know, let's talk about who has to wear their aprons high or low, and why.

    I agree with "conservatives" - people really need to get in touch with the olden days.

    •  In fact, here's a nice contemporary version (none)
      of a 6th century Scottish narrative by a band called Malinky.


      "Mak' yer bed fu' broad, dear Thaney
      Mak' yer bed fu' broad and wide
      There will lie a southern suitor
      And you shall be his bonnie bride"
      "Faither dear, my bed is narrow
      Narrow so it will remain
      Never will I wed a stranger
      I would raither lie my lane"

      "Then I will call you no more daughter
      I will call you no more mine
      'Til the day you die you'll wander
      Wander oot among the swine"
      Thaney fae the ha' was banished
      Banished oot in tae the night
      By and by there came a lady
      Busked in linens lily-white

      Thaney beckoned tae the lady
      Through the mirk she couldnae tell
      That it was a fair-faced laddie
      Come loomin like the earl o' hell
      "Tak yer hands fae aff my shoulders
      Tak yer hands fae aff my wame"
      "I will tak' the one thing, lady
      I never can return again"

      He has left her lyin' lowin'
      Lowin' there among the swine
      Thaney saw her belly growin'
      Growin' wi' the rue and thyme
      Word has gone untae the castle
      Word has gone untae the ha'
      "Thaney has lain wrang wi' a stranger
      She has let her snood doon fa'"

      "Wae be tae the wanton Thaney
      She has hattered at my heart
      Take her tae the highest mountain
      Tie her fast intae a cart"
      They have shackled Thaney's body
      Wi' her belly rowin' fu
      Every man wi' stone stood ready
      For to break her back in two

      But wonders on the bonnie lady
      Wonders on the Berwick Law
      Tho' the stanes rained doon wi' fury
      Not a one on her did fa'
      Word has gone untae the castle
      Word has gone through a' the land
      "Thaney rose up like the morning
      She stepped softly on the strand"

      "Wae be to the wanton Thaney
      Curses on her blithesome head
      Let it be by Loth here commanded
      I will live to see her dead
      Without sail or row or rudder
      It's you shall toss the wild, wild faem
      Let the ocean's dogs devour ye
      Never more you'll rise again"

      But wonders on the bonnie lady
      Wonders on the silver spray
      Cradled by five thousand fishes
      It's she has reached the Isle o' May
      Through the turning tide they tumbled
      Through the rattlin', rollin' storm
      Safe at Culross Kirk she has landed
      There she has her baby born

      "I will make my bed fu' narrow
      And in it I will lie my lane
      And my bonnie boy there beside me
      Nothing more to rue again"

      (More about Thaney - a.k.a. Saint Thenew,  Thenog, or Enoch here.  The song also appears on Scotland the Real: Music from Contemporary Caledonia, a Smithsonian Folkways recording.)

      5,000 fishes are the lassies' only hope in the world Napoli and Wishnatsky envision.

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