Um ferðir guðs…

‘But God has never really been what you’d call a forward planner. He gets stuff started, then He sort of Loses interest and goes off with one foot in the air and one hand behind His back.’
‘Why with one foot in the air and one hand behind His back?’
‘He moves in mysterious ways,’ said Barry. ‘I thought everybody knew that.’
Smá brott úr The Witches of Chiswick eftir Robert Rankin sem Mummi lánaði mér í gærkvöld. Rankin svíkur ekki, það er aldrei hægt að vita hvert bókin leiðir mann. Um leið og maður heldur að plottið sé að vera ljóst þá kemur eitthvað allt annað en maður bjóst við. Algjör geðveiki.

Þessi bók er samt spes af því hún fjallar um málverk sem Freddie samdi lag um á sínum tíma, mig grunar að það sé ekki tilviljun af því Freddie og Robert voru saman í listaskóla á sínum tíma og ég veit að Freddie heillaðist af málverkinu á sínum námsárum. The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke eftir Richard Dadd, pínulítið málverk og á gjafalistanum mínum hefur lengi verið ósk um eftirprentun.

Mjög líklegt er að þetta fokkist upp hjá þeim sem eru ekki með góðan skjá/upplausn.

The Fairy Feller’s Master-Stroke
eftir Freddie Mercury
He’s a fairy feller
Ah ah the fairy folk have gathered
Round the new moon’s shine
To see the feller crack a nut
At night’s noon time
To swing his axe he swears
As he climbs he dares
To deliver the master stroke
Ploughman wagoner will’ and types
Politician with senatorial pipe
He’s a dilly dally oh
Pedagogue squinting wears a frown
And a satyr peers under lady’s gown
He’s a dirty fellow
What a dirty laddie-oh
Tatterdemalion and the junketer
There’s a thief and a dragonfly trumpeter
He’s my hero ah
Fairy dandy tickling the fancy
Of his lady friend
The nymph in yellow (can we see the master stroke)
What a quaere fellow
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Soldier sailor tinker tailor ploughboy
Waiting to hear the sound
And the arch magician presides
He is the leader
Oberon and Titania watched by a harridan
Mab is the queen and there’s a good apothecary man
Come to say hello
Fairy dandy tickling the fancy
Of his lady friend
The nymph in yellow
What a quaere fellow
The ostler stares with hands on his knees
Come on mister feller
Crack it open of you please