Jan Stangdilan's Blues

(A cut-up of A. E. Housman's Smooth Between Sea and Land plus a transcript of Orson Welles recording his narration for an advert for fish fingers.)



 

 

Smooth between sea and land,

his unremaining mound.

Bursting wave,

near where the cod gather;

shall it be Troy

or Findus, Norway?

 

Charms devised in great shoals.

The seed of Adam plays,

wearying one.

Rome pours the confounding

crumb-crisp coating.

 

What shall I build or write

against the fall of Norway?

Fish finger, too near at hand.

I fence against

the crumb-crisp cities

not built to foam.

 

And the grown lad there,

Jan Stan–, Stangdilan, shit!

We know a certain fjord:

it's unpleasant.

Take "crumb" out

and then add

a effacing

crumb-crisp coating.

 

Because Findus freeze

the cold and fast

that hold the cod at sea.

You don't know what I'm up against!

Ooh, ah, that's tough.

 

And here through yellow sand,

smooth between sea and Stangdilan.

Take "crumb" out.

Good.

 

B.R. 17/11/2017