THUS SAUNTER WE SO GRADUALLY

This song have I used the first two stanzas and refrain of in Story the Fourth, Retold and Uncut.

The refrain I have used on its own in The Travesty of Othello.

Here is my translation of the whole poem, one of my favourite Swedish songs, and one of the first I learned by heart.

THUS SAUNTER WE SO GRADUALLY

Fredman's Song number 21

Carl Michael Bellman

Translated directly from the Swedish by Sandra Dermark

on the 10th of September 2015

Castellón de la Plana, Region of Valencia, Spain

Dedicated to Mona Utsten on her 51st birthday, with all of my best wishes.

Thus saunter we so gradually

from revels loud and bountiful,

when Death comes calling: "Come to me, 
thy hourglass is full!"

You, elder, lower your bâton, 
and you, young man, my law partake:
The fairest nymph who smiles at you on
in your arms you shall take!

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!

You, th'one with apple-ruddy cheeks

and tricorn hat cocked to the side,

soon your procession dressed in black

is forward seen to stride!

And you, who speak of poppycocks,

with medals rife your overcoat...

I hear carpenters make your box

and rattle in your throat!

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!

And you, who, chanting titles' clank,

deck your bâton with gold each year,

which barely gets, for all your rank,

a shilling for your bier!

And you, who, cowardly and irate,

curse the cradle that once you held,

yet, at the glass's second half, they relate,

each day by strong drink felled!

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!

You, who in blood-stained shirt forth strode

whenever Ares played fanfare,

you, who in the arms of Fräulein Bode

are weak and toss and flare...

...and you, with books inlaid with gold,

raising your head at church-bells' knell,

clever and learned, to wage war told

on ignorance and hell!

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!

But you, who as if honest shine,

offending your friends constantly,

and slandering them once drunk wine,

as if a joke, I see...

And you, your friends do you not defend,

in spite of all the drinks you've shared...

You could as well stick a carrot up your rear end!

What d'you say? Have you cared?

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!

But you, upon returning, the most

times French leave took! What did you think?

Not pleased at all is our dashing host,

though he commanded: "Drink!"

Tear such a guest apart from the feast,

thrust him out with his whole entourage,

then, with a mien of fiend or beast,

tear the cup from his visage!

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!

Say, are you pleased? What do you say?

Then praise the host now at the end all!

If we're all heading the same way,

we'll follow each other! Skål!

But first, with our wines red and white,

we bow before our hostess! Arr!

Slip freely into the grave in the light

of Venus, th'evening star!

REFRAIN:

If you think the grave's too deep and dire,

why not take a draught of liquid fire?

Then another, a third, make it four, make it five...

and you'll feel more alive!