Nuvole barocche: Geordie

Mentre attraversavo London Bridge un giorno senza sole vidi una donna pianger d'amore, piangeva per il suo Geordie. Impiccheranno Geordie con una corda d'oro, è un privilegio raro. Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. Sellate il suo cavallo dalla bianca criniera sellatele il suo pony cavalcherà fino a Londra stasera ad implorare per Geordie Geordie non rubò mai neppure per me un frutto o un fiore raro. Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. Salvate le sue labbra, salvate il suo sorriso, non ha vent'anni ancora cadrà l'inverno anche sopra il suo viso, potrete impiccarlo allora Nè il cuore degli inglesi nè lo scettro del re Geordie potran salvare, anche se piangeranno con te la legge non può cambiare. Così lo impiccheranno con una corda d'oro, è un privilegio raro. Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. Rubò sei cervi nel parco del re vendendoli per denaro. Geordie © 1966 Fabrizio De André, arrangement of a traditional English/Scottish ballad. "Geordie" was the last of the Karim singles, released in 1966. The song is a translation of a broadside ballad dating back to 17th century England and 16th century Scotland, popularized by Joan Baez in the early 1960s. During the first years of Baez's career, she regularly performed six Child Ballads, of which "Geordie" was one. De André's version met with some modest success, and became a regular part of his live shows in his later career, sung with his daughter Luvi. On the record, the female singer is Maureen Rix, an English teacher from one of the scholastic institutes of De André's father. Live duet with Maureen Rix (not Joan Baez), 1966 Geordie – as done by Joan Baez, 1962 As I walked out over London bridge One misty morning early, I overheard a fair pretty maid Was lamenting for her Geordie. My Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain, 'Tis not the chain of many He was born of king's royal breed And lost to a virtuous lady. Go bridle me my milk white steed, Go bridle me my pony, I will ride to London court To plead for the life of my Geordie. Ah, my Geordie never stole nor cow nor calf, He never hurted any, Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer, And he sold them in Bohenny. Two pretty babies have I born, The third lies in my body, I'd freely part with them every one If you'd spare the life of Geordie. The judge looked over his left shoulder, He said fair maid I'm sorry He said fair maid you must be gone For I cannot pardon Geordie. My Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain, 'Tis not the chain of many, Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer And he sold them in Bohenny. Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer And he sold them in Bohenny.

While I was crossing London Bridge one sunless day, I saw a woman weeping for love. She was lamenting for her Geordie. They will hang Geordie with a golden cord - it's a rare privilege. He stole six deer in the King's park, selling them for some cash. Saddle up her white-maned horse, saddle up her pony, she'll ride on down to London tonight to plead for Geordie. Geordie never stole anything for me, a fruit or a rare flower. He stole six deer from the King's park, selling them for some cash. Save his lips, save his smile, he's not yet 20 years old. Winter will fall over his face, too, you can hang him then. Neither the heart of the English nor the King's scepter can save Geordie. Even if they might cry with you, the law cannot change. Thus they will hang him with a golden cord - it's a rare privilege. He stole six deer in the King's park, selling them for some cash. He stole six deer in the King's park, selling them for some cash. English translation © 2014 Dennis Criteser Nuvole barocche, released in 1969, is a collection of De André singles on the Karim label from 1961-1966. Geordie – as done by Fabrizio De André, 1998 While I was crossing London Bridge one sunless day, I saw a woman weeping for love. She was lamenting for her Geordie. They will hang Geordie with a golden cord. It's a rare privilege. He stole six deer in the King's park, selling them for some cash. Saddle up her white-maned horse, saddle up her pony, she'll ride on down to London tonight to plead for Geordie. Geordie never stole anything for me, a fruit or a rare flower. He stole six deer from the King's park, selling them for some cash. Save his lips, save his smile, he's not yet 20 years old. Winter will fall over his face, too. You can hang him then. Neither the heart of the English nor the King's scepter can save Geordie. Even if they might cry with you, the law cannot change. Thus they will hang him with a golden cord. It's a rare privilege. He stole six deer in the King's park, selling them for some cash. He stole six deer in the King's park, selling them for some cash.

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