KING LAVRA
Original poem by Karel Havlíček Borovský Adapted by Jan Jirásek English translation Ivan Vomáčka
King Lavra! King Lavra! King Lavra!
King Lavra! King Lavra! King Lavra!
What sprouts under King Lavra´s hair? To be fair, be fair, to be fair?
What sprouts under King Lavra´s hair? To be fair, be fair, to be fair?
King Lavra hides something in there!
King Lavra hides something in there!
King Lavra! King Lavra!
Once upon a time there lived a good old king,
Though long ago the time of his reign took wing.
Good as the king was, the sole reason for blame
Was that he wore his hair long, feeling no shame.
King Lavra! King Lavra!
What´s even worse however: once every year
A barber was called in to shave the royal beard.
A strange pay though there was for him in store,
Instead of gold the hangman stepped afore, with his deadly gear!
Local folk were baffled, annoyed and concerned,
The good king´s dark side made them profoundly sad.
The barbers were sure the most embarrassed lot.
Knowing the gallows gives all too mean comfort.
What sprouts under King Lavra´s hair? To be fair, to be fair, to be fair?
King Lavra! King Lavra!
Every year, just as the Pentecost drew near,
The barbers guild converged on townhall in fear.
There in all sadness the poor guys cast lots,
To decide who´d shave the king´s hairy knots, who´d shed his last tear.
Who would? Who would? Who would?
Who would he be, who would? To shave the king, the king´s hairy knots,
With death come so near.
The lots are cast, this time Kukulin´s the one
To shave the king, he´s a poor old widow´s son.
As soon as the old widow learned the news,
She lost her senses, yet had more to lose:
Why give death for a bunch of hair?
For no clear reason, so whye´er?
Oh my dear Kukulin! Oh Kukulin!
He´s served the king now, and in the hang-man´s tow
He goes to take his pay
On the tall gallows.
King Lavra! King Lavra!
Oh my Kukulin!
Your Majesty, Sire! My boy is innocent.
For the good Lord´s mercy, be benevolent.
For no clear reason, for nothing,
The royal beard the only cause?!
A guiltless man will get the noose!
Why lay down one´s life for a royal beard?!
King Lavra! King Lavra!
Hearing this the king was seized by bitter shame,
On whose heels feelings of heartfelt piy came.
Showing no wrath, he gave a deep sigh,
Heart-struck, he held back a tear in the eye, hangman´s hand contained.
He ordered everyone off but Kukulin,
Alone with the king, pale as a tarpaulin.
King Lavra sits there, then lays aside his crown:
„Come closer, my son, come step up to the throne and the baldachin.“
Now swear to me that you will never declare
What you will now see has grown under my hair.
Then you will be spared all possible harm,
And you´ll be my court barber for all time!
What sprouts under King Lavra´s hair? To be fair? To be fair?
What sprouts under King Lavra´s hair? To be fair? To be fair?
King Lavra hides something strange there!
There stands the young barber in courtly attire,
All praise the change as wise and most inspired.
Yet what good is all the gloss, gilded frills and all, gilded frills and all,
If deep in his heart he feels so sorely stalled.
For ever to hold back a single word
On what he sees sprout under the king´s hair,
at each shaving call.
Oh my dear son, why do you look so distressed?
By day you fret around, night gives you no rest.
Yonder in the dark wood, in shady vale, a hermit lives all lone,
Who has a key to every heart well honed.
He´ll give good advice.
The old man in the wood said, „I know your plight,
My son, you´re a barber, knowing a weird sight.
You must not tell anyone what you have seen,
Yet never again will you breathe out free lest the word is out.
Up there by Wobbleton, where two rivers meet, a willow tree hollow
Has stood for three solid centuries.
In night´s calm, go whisper in its grey bark
Your secret, and thereafter be relieved, hark! no more remedies.
That very same night the barber set out,
To do as the old man of the wood avowed.
And he whispered to the willow in haste,
Of what King Lavra hid upon his pate.
That´s how he was cured.
Soon after the miracle cure, it was time for a big feast,
Gentlemen gathered all, and ladies fair and pure,
As the king´s banquet would never go amiss.
Gentlemen gathered all, and ladies fair and pure,
They gathered to revel as the king had premised.
When the feasting was all done,
The wax polished dance floor of the grand hall was fit for the ball.
What more, to dot the i´s and cross the t´s,
The finest local musicians were leased at the good king´s call,
At the good king´s call.
As the players set off for the ball, one, a master Nutmeg,
Hurry as he did, lost of his bass a peg.
Now approaching the ford near Wobbleton,
He noticed the big damage that was done.
At the old willow tree all sad he stood,
“If I seek the peg, we´ll miss the ball for good!”
Of willow wood he made a peg,
But the consequence of that
Was something our Master Nutmeg
Saw was hardly good.
He and his bass did spoil the mood,
There ensued an awful thing,
As at the ball he let his bow slide on the strings,
As at the ball he let his bow on the strings.
As at the ball he let his bow slide on the strings,
As at the ball he let his bow slide on the strings,
As at the ball he let his bow on the strings.
Then the bass made everyone hear:
The king has donkey´s ears!
The king is jackass.
King Lavra has donkey´s ears, the king is a jackass!
King Lavra has donkey´s ears, the king is a jackass!
After a time, when rumours calmed,
Love for the king remained unharmed,
All seemed to think that his big ears
Befit his crown from afar and near.
King Lavra! King Lavra!
Three cheers for the king´s ears! Three cheers for the king´s donkey ears!
Whenever you´re in trouble holding tongue,
There´s always a willow that stands along.
A good king can easily pass with donkey´s ears!
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