Canadian Thanksgiving is just around the corner! (This Monday, in fact.) So even amid such times as these, we shall be jovial.
The following is a riff I did off Dryden’s Your Hay It is Mow’d. Dryden’s song presents a comic moment in Purcell’s opera King Arthur, when the reapers and peasants sing their lungs out in celebration of the coming harvest. That harvest is made possible, partly, by the triumphs of the good King over his political and magical enemies.
My poem, alas, features no King Arthur. But it does features the reapers and peasants who sing their lungs out over Boaz’s goodness in ancient Judah, as Ruth gathers grain in the background. In the far distant future, the reader knows that from the lineage of Boaz and Ruth, King David is to be born.
So whatever the economic or political circumstances, remember that God provides for His people. And remember to bless and celebrate the great souls from whom so many of those provisions come.
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Song of the Reapers
The Lord bless Boaz – bless his eyes,
And bless his long beard too,
And bless his grain, and his golden bowl,
And his good soul, through and through!
The Lord gave Boaz gold and grain,
The Lord gave much and more.
But he gave back to the Lord again
And fed the hungry poor.
So here’s to Boaz, rich and old,
And here’s to his long, long life!
And here’s to his goodness and his gold!
(Now if only he had a wife–!)
The Lord give Boaz wife and life,
The Lord give kith and kin!
The Lord give sons, and a golden bed
To keep his lady in!