OpEdNews - Diary: Ballad, Deep in The White Birch Forest

February 13, 2007 at 08:02:09 Permalink
Ballad, Deep in The White Birch Forest

Diary Entry by Sherwood Ross (about the author)

This ballad was written to be played on the guitar; it is a love story set in Russia at the time Napoleon invaded in 1812. Guitar chords for verse and chorus follow the poem.

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Deep In The White Birch Forest

(c) by Sherwood Ross

(The following ballad was written for the guitar. Chords for verse and chorus follow the song.)

A French chevalier lost his battalion deep in the white birch forest
A Russian marksman shot his stallion as he searched for forage
Darkness fell as he fled on foot, the snow blew white and wild
The birch trees stood as soldiers frozen, with god he reconciled.

Just then he spied a cottage, a child opened the door
And a maiden spooned him porridge and tea from the samovar

"My father, sire, is killed in your war," the sad-eyed maiden said
"Your Napoleon's men killed him, what is more in grief my mother lies dead"
The maiden began to weep, "O what will you have of me?"
Said the chevalier, "You saved my life, no harm will come to thee."

And the snow moon bathed her light on the house with the fireside bright
And the chevalier slept that night deep in the white birch forest

The morning sun poured gold on the roof and the chevalier did awak
The maiden said, "Will you hunt game for my little sister's sake?"
Blinded by snow and sun, the chevalier trekked with his gun
Dropped the white stag on the run, deep in the white birch forest.

And he heard the distant guns, calling him back to the war
But he thought of the murdered father, and that no one knew what for.

Next day he took the father's axe, for the child he made a new bed
With wooden crosses he marked the graves where the husband and wife lay dead
The warring armies passed to the east 'til he could hear no shelling
The child fell asleep to a lullaby and peace came unto the dwelling.

Hushabye sang the owl, the black bear sleeps in his den
The gray wolf will not prowl, deep in the white birch forest.

The maiden she grew lovelier, her eyes spoke to him each day
Homespun she made for the chevalier as the winter dreamed away
But one day the French returned, their soldiers forced the door
A rabble cold and spurned, retreating from the war.

And the birch trees trembled in the ground, the black bear paced in his den
The three of this small family faced Napoleon's men.

"Shoot the deserter now!" they cried, as Napoleon came through the door
"It's here we shot the old man," he replied, "and here we'll kill no more."
Napoleon looked at the three, he took in all with a glance
"I wish I had spent the winter here, not in Moscow as Emperor of France."

Left in peace they lived many a day, not the richest or the poorest
And the child and the chevalier play, deep in the white birch forest.

* * * *
Am E Am
A French chevalier lost his battalion deep in the white birch forest
E Am
A Russian marksman shot his stallion as he searched for forage
Dm Am E Am
Darkness fell as he fled on foot, the snow blew white and wild
Dm Am E Am
The birch trees stood as soldiers frozen, with god he reconciled.

C G Am E
Just then he spied a cottage, a child opened the door
C G Am E Am
And a maiden spooned him porridge and tea from the samovar

Sherwood Ross has worked as a publicist for Chicago; as a reporter for the Chicago Daily News and workplace columnist for Reuters. He has also been a media consultant to colleges, law schools, labor unions, and to the editors of more than 100 (more...)

The views expressed in this article are the sole responsibility of the author
and do not necessarily reflect those of this website or its editors.