The Firemen's Ball

Section One          "Give the engines room,          Give the engines room."          Louder, faster          The little band-master          Whips up the fluting,          Hurries up the tooting.          He thinks that he stands,                          # To be read, or chanted, with the heavy buzzing bass                                 of fire-engines pumping. #          The reins in his hands,          In the fire-chief's place          In the night alarm chase.          The cymbals whang,          The kettledrums bang: -                          # In this passage the reading or chanting                                 is shriller and higher. #          "Clear the street,          Clear the street,          Clear the street - Boom, boom.          In the evening gloom,          In the evening gloom,          Give the engines room,          Give the engines room,          Lest souls be trapped          In a terrible tomb."          The sparks and the pine-brands          Whirl on high          From the black and reeking alleys          To the wide red sky.          Hear the hot glass crashing,          Hear the stone steps hissing.          Coal black streams          Down the gutters pour.          There are cries for help          From a far fifth floor.          For a longer ladder          Hear the fire-chief call.          Listen to the music          Of the firemen's ball.          Listen to the music          Of the firemen's ball.                          # To be read or chanted in a heavy bass. #          "'Tis the          NIGHT          Of doom,"          Say the ding-dong doom-bells.          "NIGHT          Of doom,"          Say the ding-dong doom-bells.          Faster, faster          The red flames come.          "Hum grum," say the engines,          "Hum grum grum."                          # Shriller and higher. #          "Buzz, buzz,"          Says the crowd.          "See, see,"          Calls the crowd.          "Look out,"          Yelps the crowd          And the high walls fall: -          Listen to the music          Of the firemen's ball.          Listen to the music          Of the firemen's ball.                          # Heavy bass. #          "'Tis the          NIGHT          Of doom,"          Say the ding-dong doom-bells.          "NIGHT          Of doom,"          Say the ding-dong doom-bells.          Whangaranga, whangaranga,          Whang, whang, whang,          Clang, clang, clangaranga,                          # Bass, much slower. #          Clang, clang, clang.          Clang - a - ranga -          Clang - a - ranga -          Clang,          Clang,          Clang.          Listen - to - the - music -          Of the firemen's ball -                  Section Two          "Many's the heart that's breaking          If we could read them all          After the ball is over."    (An old song.)                          # To be read or sung slowly and softly,                                 in the manner of lustful, insinuating music. #          Scornfully, gaily          The bandmaster sways,          Changing the strain          That the wild band plays.          With a red and royal intoxication,          A tangle of sounds          And a syncopation,          Sweeping and bending          From side to side,          Master of dreams,          With a peacock pride.          A lord of the delicate flowers of delight          He drives compunction          Back through the night.          Dreams he's a soldier          Plumed and spurred,          And valiant lads          Arise at his word,          Flaying the sober          Thoughts he hates,          Driving them back          From the dream-town gates.          How can the languorous          Dancers know          The red dreams come                          # To be read or chanted slowly and softly                                 in the manner of lustful insinuating music. #          When the good dreams go?          "'Tis the          NIGHT          Of love,"          Call the silver joy-bells,          "NIGHT          Of love,"          Call the silver joy-bells.          "Honey and wine,          Honey and wine.          Sing low, now, violins,          Sing, sing low,          Blow gently, wood-wind,          Mellow and slow.          Like midnight poppies          The sweethearts bloom.          Their eyes flash power,          Their lips are dumb.          Faster and faster          Their pulses come,          Though softer now          The drum-beats fall.          Honey and wine,          Honey and wine.          'Tis the firemen's ball,          'Tis the firemen's ball.                          # With a climax of whispered mourning. #          "I am slain,"          Cries true-love          There in the shadow.          "And I die,"          Cries true-love,          There laid low.          "When the fire-dreams come,          The wise dreams go."                          # Suddenly interrupting.    To be read or sung in                                 a heavy bass.    First eight lines as harsh as possible.                                 Then gradually musical and sonorous. #          BUT HIS CRY IS DROWNED          BY THE PROUD BAND-MASTER.          And now great gongs whang,          Sharper, faster,          And kettledrums rattle          And hide the shame          With a swish and a swirk          In dead love's name.          Red and crimson          And scarlet and rose          Magical poppies          The sweethearts bloom.          The scarlet stays          When the rose-flush goes,          And love lies low          In a marble tomb.          "'Tis the          NIGHT          Of doom,"          Call the ding-dong doom-bells.          "NIGHT          Of Doom,"          Call the ding-dong doom-bells.                          # Sharply interrupting in a very high key. #                 Hark how the piccolos still make cheer.                 "'Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year."                          # Heavy bass. #          CLANGARANGA, CLANGARANGA,          CLANG... CLANG... CLANG.          CLANG... A... RANGA...          CLANG... A... RANGA...          CLANG... CLANG... CLANG...          LISTEN... TO... THE... MUSIC...          OF... THE... FIREMEN'S BALL...          LISTEN... TO... THE... MUSIC...          OF... THE... FIREMEN'S... BALL....                  Section Three     In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece is placed before the reader.     (From the first Khandaka of the Mahavagga:    "There Buddha thus addressed his disciples:    'Everything, O mendicants, is burning. With what fire is it burning?    I declare unto you it is burning with the fire of passion, with the fire of anger, with the fire of ignorance. It is burning with the anxieties of birth, decay and death, grief, lamentation, suffering and despair....    A disciple,... becoming weary of all that, divests himself of passion. By absence of passion, he is made free.'")                          # To be intoned after the manner of a priestly service. #          I once knew a teacher,          Who turned from desire,          Who said to the young men          "Wine is a fire."          Who said to the merchants: -          "Gold is a flame          That sears and tortures          If you play at the game."          I once knew a teacher          Who turned from desire          Who said to the soldiers,          "Hate is a fire."          Who said to the statesmen: -          "Power is a flame          That flays and blisters          If you play at the game."          I once knew a teacher          Who turned from desire,          Who said to the lordly,          "Pride is a fire."          Who thus warned the revellers: -          "Life is a flame.          Be cold as the dew          Would you win at the game          With hearts like the stars,          With hearts like the stars."                          # Interrupting very loudly for the last time. #          SO BEWARE,          SO BEWARE,          SO BEWARE OF THE FIRE.          Clear the streets,          BOOM, BOOM,          Clear the streets,          BOOM, BOOM,          GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,          GIVE THE ENGINES ROOM,          LEST SOULS BE TRAPPED          IN A TERRIBLE TOMB.          SAYS THE SWIFT WHITE HORSE          TO THE SWIFT BLACK HORSE: -          "THERE GOES THE ALARM,          THERE GOES THE ALARM.          THEY ARE HITCHED, THEY ARE OFF,          THEY ARE GONE IN A FLASH,          AND THEY STRAIN AT THE DRIVER'S IRON ARM."          CLANG... A... RANGA....    CLANG... A... RANGA....          CLANG... CLANG... CLANG....          CLANG... A... RANGA....    CLANG... A... RANGA....          CLANG... CLANG... CLANG....          CLANG... A... RANGA....    CLANG... A... RANGA....          CLANG... CLANG... CLANG....