“ the parson of the village had a fancy for [Hildebrand’s] wife,
and had wished for a long while to spend a whole day happily with her.”
- “Old Hildebrand” by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
Old Hildebrand, laurel wilds itself
waiting for your burlap,
its springy green oliving on the hill.
In the morning a sick child,
a sick husband, a sick wife,
or whoever else it may be
will lack restoration, and people
will lose faith in the words.
In the morning, Old Hildebrand,
you'll be a laughing stock.
In the morning your wife will repent
and will flapjack only for you.
But tonight the parson eats pancakes
and fiddles a fiddling tune.
His hotcakes steam on your table
and all of your chickens are dead.
Oh, Hildebrand, rise up now.
Rise up from your basket and sing.