In the log of 29th April, 2005, Alex was waxing fairly lyrical about their surroundings and came up with most of the first line of Dawn as being appropriate to the situation. Having a limited library, he expressed the desire “wish I could remember it all”. He received a couple of responses and this is one of them (I’m assuming that the copyright ran out a while ago!):
AWAKE! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultan’s Turret in a Noose of Light.
Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry, “Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.”
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse–and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness– And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
“How sweet is mortal Sovranty!”–think some: Others–“How blest the Paradise to come!” Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!
‘Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Alex has often referred to the stars in the logs and, in the log of 7th May, 2005, Alex started to get a bit specific about why this, why that and how much of the other. As always, the readers were on to it in a flash. Malcom C provided a couple of very informative answers that are incorporated in the Log. Fiona S was a bit lateral in her response and provided the words to the Galaxy Song from the Meaning of Life.Warning: This has the potential to become a significant earworm – read at your own risk
Whenever life gets you down, Mrs. Brown, And things seem hard or tough, And people are stupid, obnoxious or daft,
And you feel that you’ve had quite eno-o-o-o-o-ough,
Just remember that you’re standing on a planet that’s evolving And revolving at nine thousand miles an hour. It’s orbiting at nineteen miles a second, so it’s reckoned, ‘Round the sun that is the source of all our power. Now the sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see, Are moving at a million miles a day, In the outer spiral arm, at fourteen thousand miles an hour, Of a galaxy we call the Milky Way.
Our galaxy itself contains a hundred million stars; It’s a hundred thousand light-years side to side; It bulges in the middle sixteen thousand light-years thick, But out by us it’s just three thousand light-years wide. We’re thirty thousand light-years from Galactic Central Point, We go ’round every two hundred million years; And our galaxy itself is one of millions of billions In this amazing and expanding universe.
Our universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding, In all of the directions it can whiz; As fast as it can go, that’s the speed of light, you know, Twelve million miles a minute and that’s the fastest speed there is. So remember, when you’re feeling very small and insecure, How amazingly unlikely is your birth; And pray that there’s intelligent life somewhere out in space, ‘Cause there’s bugger all down here on Earth!
(The Meaning Of Life, paroles et musique d’Eric Idle)
Oz Sea Shanty
From Malcom C (with apologies to Banjo) on the eve of Berri’s arrival in Falmouth.
Once two jolly sailors sailed upon the briny sea, Under the shade of a worn ‘n torn sail, And they drank and they drank as they waited for the Lizard Light, Toasting Berrimilla with fast dwindling ale.
Sailing Berrimilla, sailing Berrmilla, Who’ll come a sailing Berrimilla with us. And they drank and they drank as they waited for the Lizard Light Who’ll come a sailing Berrimilla with us.
They tapped into the rumcask, for’rd of the dunny space. Pint after pint they sank at quite a steady pace, They drank and they drank as they sailed on past the mannacles Thank god for self steering to get us into port
Sailing, Berrimilla etc
Up rode the customs riding on their zodiac, On climbed the agents one, two three, Where’s that bloody rumcask you’ve got in the f’ward hold, You’ll come a sailing to Falmouth, you’ll see,
Sailing, Berrimila, Sailing Berrimilla, etc etc
Up jumped the sailors and pissed into the harbour mouth You’ll never take us sober, you’ll see. And they drank and they drank to finish off the contraband, Up comes their mooring, their last day at sea.
Sailing Berrimilla, Sailing Berrimilla, We’ve been a’sailing Berrimilla o’er the sea, Sydney to Cape Horn, northwards to the polar star. We’ve been a’sailing Berrimila at sea.