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![]() Cover art by Elizabeth Malczynski Littman SONG FOR PETIRON SWEET SEA (My Nightly Craft) GATHER DAY THE LITTLE QUEEN (Firelizard Song) SUNSET'S GOLD (The Blackest Night + Harper Tell) BREKKE'S CRY RUN! (The Running Song) FOUR HUNDRED TURNS Pern music Home Page Anne McCaffrey Home Page Opland-Freeman Home Page Ordering Info. THE MUSICIANS Tania Opland: vocals, recorders, guitar, hammered dulcimer, double ocarina, cittern, mandola, violin, viola. Mike Freeman: guitar, cittern, vocals, hand drums of all descriptions, and various other percussion. Philip Boulding: folk harp and valiha (Malagasy circular harp). Harper Tasche: folk harp and bray harp (medieval snare harp). Madeleine Doherty: concert harp. Felicia Dale: hurdy-gurdy. Additional vocals: Alicia Healey, Joe Prater, William Pint, Felicia Dale, Toni Wood, Emily Groff |
SONG FOR PETIRON by Anne McCaffrey ©1977 (small edits by Tania Opland in italics) The tears I feel today I’ll wait to shed tomorrow, Though I’ll not sleep this night Nor find surcease from sorrow. My eyes must keep their sight; I dare not be tear-blinded. I must be free to speak (talk) Not choked with grief, clear-minded. My tongue (mouth) cannot betray The anguish that I know. ||: I’ll keep my tears till later; But my grief will never go. :|| SWEET SEA by Anne McCaffrey ©1977 (lyrics in italics added by Tania Opland) My nightly craft is winged in white; A dragon of night-dark sea. Swiftborn, dreambound and rudderless; Her captain and crew are me. Oh sweet sea, oh dear sea,The fickle wind’s my foe, With tide his keen ally. They’re jealous of my sea’s love And taunt (rouse) her with their lies. Oh sweet sea, oh dear sea,I sail a hundred sleeping tides Where no seaman’s ever been And only my white-winged craft and I Know the marvels we have seen. Oh sweet sea, oh dear sea, GATHER DAY Bring your marks & bring your wares,Gather! Gather! It's a gather day... It's morning and the great bell tolls.Gather! Gather! It's a gather day... Finest wine from Benden, Scorching Bubbly Pies; One Mark for six, the baker cries Runners at the starting line,Gather! Gather! It's a gather day... Tune (The Harper's Glass) Gather! Gather! It's a gather day... Stew pots simmer on the fire. Gather! Gather! It's a gather day... Gather! Gather! It's a gather day... Run! Run! Run! No time to think, stop or stay, justThen my feet took off my legs went, too, And my body was obliged to follow. Me with my hands and mouth full of cress And my throat too dry to swallow. I thought I’d run before – been running all my life Never doubting I could hold my own But faster than I’ve ever been is still not fast enough Though I’m straining every muscle and bone, to Run! Run! Run! No time to think, stop or stay, justI have never yet been run off my feet But this nearly ran the feet off of me Wore right through the bottoms of my old battered boots ‘Till the soles began to bleed I thought I’d run before – been running all my life Never doubting I could hold my own But when the sky turns black with dragons overhead Then you know ___ you’ve got to Run! Run! Run! No time to think, stop or stay, justFOUR HUNDRED TURNS by Anne McCaffrey ©1969 Four hundred Turns in the black of night Four hundred of Rukbat's sun bright, Four hundred Turns never a Thread Dropped on Pern from the wand'ring Red Star. Four hundred Turns to discard As needless the Weyrs, and to disregard The warnings sent down through ages in song, That all must give honor to those who belong In mind and in heart to the great winged beasts Whose flaming breath on grey Threadfall feasts. “Four hundred Turns,” Lord Holders said. “We’ve nothing to fear from mythical Thread.” But the Finger Rock points upon Benden Weyr rim To an Eye Rock red, in the dawn sky dim. So F'lar, Weyrleader, bronze Mnementh's man, Prepares the Weyr as well as he can. With Records dust old, and a sharp, clear mind He readies Pern with what help he can find. Thanks to Lessa, his Weyrmate, and Ramoth her queen, He rallies his scant force to go time between. When black dust blows cold warning to all That at dawn over Nerat, live Thread will fall. “Four hundred tithe-paying Turns we have scorned, And never a Thread since our grandsires were born.” Then the vineflowers' eyes peered out through the dawn On the mythical menace they all swore was gone. And the riders braved Thread as it fell from space In a desperate battle between time and place. With fearful mind, Lord Holders came Show’ring plaudits on Benden's proud name: Begging to know what help they might give Now they had witnessed that Pern could not live Without these bold riders abroad in the sky Searing the Threadfall as they flamed by. Four hundred Turns the weyr was alone. Few were the dragons where many had flown. In Ruatha's great hall hung a tapestry fair Depicting a scene with dragons mid-air. And footmen who guided bright flame: So Benden's Weyrwoman, Lessa by name, Gold Ramoth's rider, of Ruatha's bloodline Saw in these woven strands beckoning signs That would take her gold dragon between timeless space Bringing forward the Lost Weyrs in a star-guided race. Four hundred Turns of a cold black as death. Robbing the riders of all sense and breath. In Four hundred Turns let Pern honor still Lessa and Ramoth of time-conquering will. Praise Fandarel's craft, and F'lar's brave stand Which have preserved our Thread-free land. In Four hundred Turns let no man say We need not depend on the Dragonman's way; That Weyrs serve no purpose, tradition is dead: That Pern is not threatened by Red Star or Thread. Honor those riders the great dragons heed Lest dragonless, all rediscover the need. Four hundred Turns ago, four hundred hence, Honor the Dragons — Pern's defense. |