What's the title of the song Ethan Cord is trying to remember in prison on Part 1 of "A Gathering of Guns" episode of Paradise's TV series
2 Reviews
Song
jodeeze-1534725 August 2019
Song
turtledoveconsult14 September 2020
This is in response to another reviewer's question as to the title of the song that Ethan is trying to recall. The song is "The Old Oaken Bucket." Sources vary as to the year that it was written, with citations ranging from 1817-1834. It was written by Samuel Woodworth (1784-1842) and set to music by George F Kiallmark (1804-1887). It is housed in the Library of Congress as part of the following collections: America Singing: Nineteenth-Century Song Sheets, Rare Book and Special Collections Division, The Library of Congress Celebrates the Songs of America, Performing Arts Encyclopedia, American Memory. The lyrics follow below.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view- The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, The old oaken bucket-the iron-bound bucket The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure, For often, at noon, when return'd from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield; How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell, Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well- The old oaken bucket-the iron-bound bucket The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the cord, it inclined to my lips; Not a full-blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now far removed from the loved situation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy revisits my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in his well- The old oaken bucket-the iron-bound bucket The moss-covered bucket which hangs in his well.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view- The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, The old oaken bucket-the iron-bound bucket The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure, For often, at noon, when return'd from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield; How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell, Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well- The old oaken bucket-the iron-bound bucket The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the cord, it inclined to my lips; Not a full-blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now far removed from the loved situation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy revisits my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in his well- The old oaken bucket-the iron-bound bucket The moss-covered bucket which hangs in his well.
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