Here is another song, comments very welcome.
The lyrics may seem troubling, but in fact they are meant to capture something silly and salacious too. I didn’t know it at the time, but recently came across “Der Erlkoenig” by Goethe (and music by Schubert), which probably does a better job at being both playful and sinister. For any classicists out there, the image of the gore-filled roots does indeed borrow heavily from Vergil’s Aeneid III.
Sat the beast upon the well, Burst his head, down he fell.
Like the sea inside a shell His voice still tumbles down and it does echo.
On the knoll that’s just beside The flowers growing its face they hide
The same features each, all side by side, And me still wishing only to forget
The best we ever had, boy, The good that won’t turn bad. The rest comes without thanks, boy, And could easy burst your banks. All along.
Pulled a flower, long time I tugged TIl earth gave up the roots it hugged;
With bloody sap the tendrils plugged— Next to my feet they drip, my hands stay clean.
My eyes shine out like gold in murky streams And tumble out like teeth in dreams
I drink the waters from the well Taking deep draughts still wishing to forget
The best we ever had, boy, The good that won’t turn bad The rest takes without thanks, boy, And could easy burst your banks Alone with it.
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