Fire and Hemlock. Diana Wynne Jones

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      FIRE AND HEMLOCK

      Diana Wynne Jones

      ILLUSTRATED BY DAVID WYATT

       Dedication

       To Laura

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       6 O they rode on, and further on, The steed went swifter than the wind, Until they reached a desert wide And living land was left behind.

       Part Two Now Here

       1 And fill your hands o’ the holy water And cast your compass round

       2 She had not picked a rose, a rose, A rose but barely one, When up and started young Tam Lin

       3 O they rode on and further on, They waded rivers above the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea.

       4 The truth I’ll tell thee, Janet; In no word will I lie

       5 But aye she grips and holds him fast

       6 And pleasant is the fairy land For those that in it dwell, But at the end of seven years They pay a tax to hell.

       Part Three Where Now?

       1 It was mirk, mirk night, there was no starlight; They waded through red blood to the knee, For all the blood that’s shed on earth Runs through the springs of that country.

       2 They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, Into a serpent or a snake

       3 But, Thomas, you shall hold your tongue

       4 They’ll turn me in your arms, lady, Into a deer so wild, But hold me fast, don’t let me go

       5 “Harp and carp, Thomas,” she said, “Harp and carp along with me, And if you dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your body I will be.”

       6 They’ll shape me in your arms, lady, A hot iron at the fire, But hold me fast, don’t let me go, To be your heart’s desire.

       7 Out then spoke her brother dear – He meant to do her harm – “There grows a herb in Carterhaugh…”

       Part Four Nowhere

       1 Had I the wit yestreen, yestreen, That I have got today, I’d pay my tax seven times to hell Ere you were won away!

       2 O first let pass the black, lady, Then let pass the brown, But quickly run to the milk white steed—Pull you his rider down.

       3 But the night is Hallowe’en, Janet, The morn is Hallowday

       4 That is the path of Wickedness, Though some call it the Road to Heaven.

       5 About the dead hour of the night She heard the bridles ring, And Janet was as glad of that As any earthly thing.

       6 And see you not yon bonny road That winds across the ferny lea? That is the road to fair Elfland Where you and I this night must be.

       Coda scherzando

       Coda They shaped him in her arms at last A mother-naked man

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       Copyright

       About the Publisher

      

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