{"id":234,"date":"2010-03-26T13:46:39","date_gmt":"2010-03-26T17:46:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/?p=234"},"modified":"2010-03-26T13:52:30","modified_gmt":"2010-03-26T17:52:30","slug":"monkey-bear-joanna-newsom","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/?p=234","title":{"rendered":"Monkey & Bear – Joanna Newsom"},"content":{"rendered":"

[audio:monkeyandbear.m93] (9:29)
\nperformed by Joanna Newsom. audio from Ys<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n

Down in the green hay,
\nWhere monkey and bear usually lay,
\nThey woke from a stable-boy\u2019s cry.
\nHe said: \u201csomeone come quick
\nThe horses got loose, got grass-sick
\nThey\u2019ll founder! Fain, they\u2019ll die.\u201d<\/p>\n

What is now known by the sorrel and the roan?
\nBy the chestnut, and the bay, and the gelding grey?
\nIt is: stay by the gate you are given.
\nRemain in your place, for your season.
\nO, had the overfed dead but listened
\nTo that high-fence, horse-sense, wisdom\u2026<\/p>\n

But,
\n\u201cDid you hear that, bear?\u201d Said
\nMonkey, \u201cwe\u2019ll get out of here, fair and square
\nThey\u2019ve left the gate open wide!<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, my bride.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere is my hand. Where is your paw?
\nTry and understand my plan, Ursala.
\nMy heart is a furnace
\nFull of love that is just, and earnest.
\nNow.
\nWe know that we must unlearn this
\nAllegiance to a life of service,
\nAnd no longer answer to that heartless
\nHay-monger, nor be his accomplice
\n(That charlatan, with artless hustling!)
\nBut Ursala, we\u2019ve got to eat something,
\nAnd earn our keep, while still within
\nThe borders of the land that man has girded,
\n(All double-bolted and tightfisted!),
\nUntil we reach the open country,
\nA-steeped in milk and honey.
\nWill you keep your fancy clothes on, for me?
\nCan you bear a little longer to wear that leash?<\/p>\n

\u201cMy love, i swear by the air i breathe:
\nSooner or later, you\u2019ll bare your teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut for now, just dance, darling.
\nC\u2019mon, will you dance, my darling?
\nDarling, there\u2019s a place for us;
\nCan we go, before i turn to dust?
\nDarling there\u2019s a place for us.<\/p>\n

\u201cDarling. C\u2019mon will you dance,
\nMy darling?
\nThe hills are groaning with excess,
\nLike a table ceaselessly being set.
\nC\u2019mon, will you dance, my darling?
\nAnd we\u2019ll get there yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

They trooped past the guards,
\nPast the coops, and the fields, and the
\nFarmyards, all night, till finally,<\/p>\n

The space they gained
\nGrew much farther than
\nThe stone that bear threw,
\nTo mark where they\u2019d stop for tea.<\/p>\n

But,
\n\u201cwalk a little faster,
\nDon\u2019t look backwards<\/p>\n

\u201cYour feast is to the east, which lies a little past the pasture.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen the blackbirds hear tea whistling they rise and clap.
\nTheir applause caws the kettle black.
\nAnd we can\u2019t have none of that!
\nMove along, bear; there, there; that\u2019s that.\u201d<\/p>\n

(Though cast in plaster,
\nOur Ursala\u2019s heart beat faster
\nThan monkey\u2019s ever will.)<\/p>\n

But still,
\nThey have got to pay the bills.
\nHadn\u2019t they?
\nThat is what the monkey would say.
\nSo, with the courage of a clown, or a cur,
\nOr a kite, jerking tight at its tether,
\nIn her dun-brown gown of fur,
\nAnd her jerkin of
\nSwansdown and leather,
\nBear would sway on her hind legs;
\nThe organ would grind dregs of song,
\nFor the pleasure
\nOf the children who\u2019d shriek,
\nThrowing coins at her feet,
\nThen recoiling in terror.<\/p>\n

Sing, \u201cdance, darling.
\nC\u2019mon, will you dance, my darling?
\nCarling, there\u2019s a place for us;
\nCan we go, before i turn to dust?
\nDarling there\u2019s a place for us.<\/p>\n

\u201cDarling.
\nC\u2019mon, will you dance, my darling?
\nKeep your eyes fixed on the highest hill,
\nWhere you\u2019ll ever-after eat your fill.
\nO darling\u2026dear\u2026mine\u2026if you dance,
\nDarling: i will love you still.\u201d<\/p>\n

Deep in the night
\nShone a weak and miserly light,
\nWhere the monkey shouldered his lamp.
\nSomeone had told him the
\nBear\u2019d been wandering a fair piece away
\nFrom where they were camped.
\nSomeone had told him
\nThe bear had been sneaking away,
\nTo the seaside caverns, to bathe;
\nAnd the thought troubled the monkey,
\nFor he was afraid of spelunking
\nDown in those caves.
\nAnd also afraid what the
\nVillage people would say,
\nIf they saw the bear in that state
\nLolling and splashing obscenely
\nWell, it seemed irrational, really,
\nWashing that face;
\nWashing that matted and flea-bit pelt
\nIn some sea-spit-shine
\nOld kelp dripping with brine.
\nBut monkey just laughed, and he muttered,
\n\u201cWhen she comes back, Ursala will be bursting with pride
\nTill i jump up!
\nSaying, \u2018you\u2019ve been rolling in muck!
\nSaying, \u2018you smell of garbage and grime!\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

But far out,
\nFar out,
\nBy now,
\nBy now
\nFar out, by now, bear ploughed,
\nBecause she would
\nNot drown:<\/p>\n

First the outside-legs of the bear
\nUp and fell down, in the water, like knobby garters,
\nThen the outside-arms of the bear
\nFell off, as easy as if sloughed
\nFrom boiled potatoes.
\nLow\u2019red in a genteel curtsy,
\nBear shed the mantle of her
\nDiluvian shoulders;
\nAnd, with a sigh,
\nShe allowed the burden of belly to drop,
\nLike an apronfull of boulders.<\/p>\n

if you could hold up her
\nThreadbare coat to the light,
\nWhere it\u2019s worn translucent in places,
\nYou\u2019d see spots where,
\nAlmost every night of the year,
\nBear had been mending,
\nSuspending that baseness.<\/p>\n

Now her coat drags through the water,
\nBagging, with a life\u2019s-worth of hunger,
\nLimitless minnows;<\/p>\n

In the magnetic embrace,
\nBalletic and glacial,
\nOf bear\u2019s insatiable shadow\u2014<\/p>\n

Left there!
\nLeft there!
\nWhen bear
\nLeft bear;<\/p>\n

Left there,
\nLeft there,
\nWhen bear
\nStepped clear of bear.<\/p>\n

(sooner or later you\u2019ll bury your teeth)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[audio:monkeyandbear.m93] (9:29) performed by Joanna Newsom. audio from Ys. Down in the green hay, Where monkey and bear usually lay, They woke from a stable-boy\u2019s cry. He said: \u201csomeone come quick The horses got loose, got grass-sick They\u2019ll founder! Fain, they\u2019ll die.\u201d What is now known by the sorrel and the roan? By the chestnut, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[9,59],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-234","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-audio","category-table-ceaselessly-being-set"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/234","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=234"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/234\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":238,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/234\/revisions\/238"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=234"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=234"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/poem.oftheweek.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=234"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}