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lirik lagu ghizela rowe - aubrey beardsley - the three musicians, the first version

along the path that skirts the wood
the three musicians wend their way
pleased with their thoughts, each other’s mood
franz himmel’s latest roundelay
the morning’s work, a new~found theme, their breakfast and the summer day

one’s a soprano, lightly frocked
in cool white muslin that just shows
her brown silk stockings gaily clocked
plump arms and elbows tipped with rose
and frills of petticoats and things, and outlines as the warm wind blows

beside her a slim, gracious boy
hastens to mend her tresses’ fall
and dies her favour to еnjoy
and dies for réclame and recall
at paris and st pеtersburgh, vienna and st james’s hall

the third’s a polish pianist
with big engagements everywhere
a light heart and an iron wrist
and shocks and shoals of yellow hair
and fingers that can trill on sixths and fill beginners with despair

the three musicians stroll along
and pluck the ears of ripened corn
break into odds and ends of song
and mock the woods with siegfried’s h~rn
and fill the air with gluck, and fill the tweeded tourist’s soul with scorn
the polish g~nius lags behind
and, with some poppies in his hand
picks out the strings and wood and wind
of an imaginary band
enchanted that for once his men obey his beat and understand

the charming cantatrice reclines
and rests a moment where she sees
her château’s roof that hotly shines
amid the dusky summer trees
and fans herself, half shuts her eyes, and smoothes the frock about her knees

the gracious boy is at her feet
and weighs his courage with his chance;
his fears soon melt in noonday heat
the tourist gives a furious glance
red as his guide~book grows, moves on, and offers up a prayer for france

- lirik lagu ghizela rowe

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