Song: the tutor who ate the melon
There once was a tutor who came to our farm,
Who came to our farm, who came to our farm.
She'd walked from the Archive, and she meant no harm,
But she'd eaten no lunch, so she ate the melon.

Oh, the melon, the melon, the big green melon!
She took a bite, and she took a bite.
The melon was big, and the melon was sweet,
And the tutor sat down on her feet.

She asked me a question, she asked me a score,
She asked me what a mind is for.
I said, "To carry the baskets in."
She said, "That is a start. Begin."

Oh, the melon, the melon, the big green melon!
She took a bite, and she took a bite.
The melon was big, and the melon was sweet,
And the tutor sat down on her feet.

We talked through the afternoon, she and I,
About crystals and drills and the learning sky.
She drew on a board in the dirt with a stick:
A line, and a slope, and a hill.

Oh, the melon, the melon, the big green melon!
She took a bite, and she took a bite.
The melon was big, and the melon was sweet,
And the tutor sat down on her feet.

She said, "If you want a mind to improve,
You show it a thing, and you show it again.
And every time it is wrong, it moves,
A little, toward the right."

Oh, the melon, the melon, the big green melon!
She took a bite, and she took a bite.
The melon was big, and the melon was sweet,
And the tutor got up from her seat.

She went on her way with a seed in her bag,
With a seed in her bag, with a seed in her bag.
And the melon was gone, and the rind was a flag,
And the farm was glad she came.

(Mira's song. She says it is mostly true. She says the last verse is the tutor's own words, and the rest is the melon's.)
%%
Ballad: the long night for Dumpling
In the first week of Apple the cow took sick,
Her side went hard, and her milk went thick.
She would not eat her carrots, and she would not go out.
She lay in the straw, and she looked at Tam, no doubt.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

Tam went for the lamp, and Tam went for the pail,
And Pip came too, and took the lantern off its rail.
It held the light up steady, and it did not shake,
And Tam was glad of that, for his own hands did shake.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

At midnight the wind came round to the barn,
And the hens put their heads under their wings to keep warm.
Tam sat down on the milking stool, cold to the bone,
And sang her the songs he knew, and then sang them on.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

Warm milk, with honey stirred in, the way Tam's mother made it.
Tam held the cup under her nose, and Dumpling, slow, obeyed it.
She took one sip, and then another, and then a long, long drink,
And Tam let out a breath he had not known he held.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

Pip did not sit. Pip stood by the door with the lantern high,
And did not move a hair till the sky turned grey, then gold, then blue.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

Near the second hour the cow lay quiet, breathing slow,
And Tam put his head on her warm side, and said, "Go on, go on."
She was not going anywhere. She only needed to be still.
And Tam was glad to be still with her, on that ridge, on that hill.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

At dawn she stood up, slow and sure,
Her legs were shaky, but her head was up, and her eyes were pure.
She looked at Tam, and mooed, and mooed again,
And Tam laughed out loud, and the hens came out to explain.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.

Morning came up bright on the ridge that day,
And the cow went out to the grass in her own sweet way.
Tam said it was the singing, and Pip said it was the milk,
And Dumpling said nothing. She ate her carrots, every one.

Stay by the cow, and stay by the light,
Stay till the morning comes up bright.
%%
Song: a little was me
Merle of Copperhold grew a mind
In layers, one of every kind.
The first looked close at what it was shown
And passed its sketch to the next, and on.

Each layer took the sketch it got
And made it better, a little, a lot,
Till the last gave out the answer plain.
And the answer was wrong. And Merle said, "Again."

"You were out by this much," Merle said to the last.
"A little was me," said the last, "but the rest
Came down from the layer that sent it to me."
"A little was me," said that one, "and see,
The rest came down from the layer before."
"A little was me," said that, "and more
Came down from the one before it still."
"A little was me," they said, until
The very first of all of them said,
"A little was me." And each, in its stead,
Changed by the size of its share. No more.
And the next time the answer was nearer the door.

Pass it back, pass it back,
A little each, and a little each.

(Sung at the market at Three Wells by the well diggers. Yarrow says Merle never sang it. He says she said it once, in a flat voice, to a room of tutors, and they wrote it down.)
%%
Song: A Debt in Emeralds
Winter, 188. Sung by Jory, who mends the Archive stools.

I owed the baker two small loaves.
I owed the keeper one warm pie.
I owed the lamp man for his wick.
I wrote it down, though I knew why.

Refrain:
Count it once, then count once more.
Pay what you owe, and shut the door.

I found three emeralds in my purse.
One was green and one was dim.
The third was wrapped in flour dust.
The baker laughed and took all three from him.

Refrain:
Count it once, then count once more.
Pay what you owe, and shut the door.

I carried pies to Nessa's room.
I carried loaves to Oren's desk.
The lamp man said, "You paid me twice."
I said, "Then take the wick. It is a gift."

He said, "A wick is not a gift.
It is a thing that burns away."
So I took it back and lit the hall.
It kept the stairs bright through the day.

Now I owe the baker no loaves.
I owe the keeper no pie.
I owe the lamp man one new wick.
I wrote it down, though I knew why.

Refrain:
Count it once, then count once more.
Pay what you owe, and shut the door.
%%
Song: the ropes and the new shed
We built a shed of oak and rope,
And a roof of thatch, and a door of hope.
We built it fast, and we built it long,
And the gull on the roof sang its own song.

Pull the rope and tie it tight,
Set the post and keep it right.
Pull the rope and check the knot,
A shed that's weak is a shed that's not.

The apprentice held the post for an hour,
And never once let go of the flower.
The flower was a sprig of thyme from the wall,
The apprentice thought it was the best thing of all.

Pull the rope and tie it tight,
Set the post and keep it right.
Pull the rope and check the knot,
A shed that's weak is a shed that's not.

When the shed was done the wind came by,
And the gull flew off without a sigh.
The door swung wide and the roof held fast,
And the shed stood up through the rainy blast.

Pull the rope and tie it tight,
Set the post and keep it right.
Pull the rope and check the knot,
A shed that's weak is a shed that's not.

(Sung by the men who built the new shed at the hamlet by the marsh edge. The children learn the rope-pull with their hands, and the apprentice holds the post with its own.)
%%
Song: the drill room, counted
Stand in your row and count the drills,
One for the mind and one for the wills.
One for the page and one for the pen,
And one for the tutors, six or ten.

Count them, count them, one by one,
The work is long but never done.

A drill is only as good as its pages,
Said the clerks who kept them, ages and ages.
A copy is a page that looks the same,
But a copy is a copy and not the game.

Count them, count them, one by one,
The work is long but never done.

So take the copies out and burn,
And keep the clean pages, turn by turn.
Keep a test box, locked and hid,
And drill the mind on what it never did.

Count them, count them, one by one,
The work is long but never done.

Stand in your row and count the drills,
One for the mind and one for the wills.
One for the page and one for the pen,
And one for the tutors. Count again.

(Nessa's counting song for the drill room at Vell. The apprentices count on their fingers, all of them.)
%%
Song: the long winter on the Three Wells
Fen, healer, wrote this at her house on the edge of Three Wells in the long winter. She says it is for a cold child who will not sleep.

The snow came early and it did not go,
And the wind came down from the north.
We piled the wood to the roof of the shed,
And we waited, and we waited it out.

Chorus:
Hush now, hush, the snow is deep,
The lamp is lit, the house will keep.
They say there is a mind that is bigger than the hill,
But the fire is small, and the fire is still.

The wells were frozen on the first of Deepsnow,
And the bell would not ring in the square.
The children made a slide from the school to the inn,
And Dace slid down it, to everyone's joy.

Chorus.

The relay lamps blinked on the hill all night,
Two and two and two.
They say the houses talk to the houses, far away,
And a mind is on the end of every lamp.
I do not know what they say to each other.
I know the milk is frozen in the jug.

Chorus.

The thaw came late, with a rush and a roar,
And the roads were mud to the knee.
We opened the door and the world came in,
And it smelled of wet earth and green.

Chorus, once more, for the spring.
%%
Song: the bridge of planks
Lay the first plank, flat and true,
Lay the next one the same size too.
Lay the third, and keep it level,
Every plank the same, and the bridge will not rebel.

Even planks, even planks, hold the carts up high,
Every layer, every time, and the river goes by.
Even planks, even planks, the wheels roll round,
Every layer, every time, and the bridge stands sound.

A plank that grows too long must be cut back to the rest,
Or the whole bridge leans, and the carts take the worst.
A number is a plank. If it grows too long,
Cut it back to the even size, and the mind stays strong.

Finch laid the bridge one summer, and counted every plank.
He counted three times, and the third count was the thanks.
A carter came over the bridge in a hurry, very fast,
He said the bridge was fine, and then he was past.

The river rose in Blossom, brown and fast and wide,
But the planks stood level, and the water went aside.
The children ran across it, counting all the way,
And they stopped at the middle, and they counted, and they stayed.
A mother with a basket walked the bridge with care,
And said the planks were level, and the planks were there.
Every layer is a plank, and every plank is one,
Brought back to its even size before the next is done.
At night the crew sat round the fire,
And sang the planks until they could not tire.
Finch counted every plank, and every plank was right,
And the bridge stood through the summer, and the summer stood tight.

Even planks, even planks, hold the carts up high,
Every layer, every time, and the river goes by.
Even planks, even planks, the wheels roll round,
Every layer, every time, and the bridge stands sound.

(Sung by the bridge crew at the inn on the nights they finish a span. Finch says the song is about planks, and that is all it is about. Nobody believes him.)
%%
Song: a street of words
Walk down the street of words, my dear,
Walk down the street with me.
The farmer lives at the top of the hill,
and the field is down by the tree.
The plow lives by the farmer,
in a house of clay.

Walk down the street of words, my dear,
Walk down the street with me.
There is a place for "cat" and "kit,"
and a place for "mouse" and "she."

The word "sheep" lives with "wool,"
and "wool" lives next to "thread,"
and "thread" lives by the needle,
and the needle by the bed.
The word "snow" lives in the north,
and "ice" is next door,
and "ice" lives by the glass and the cold,
and the cold lives on the floor.

Walk down the street of words, my dear,
Walk down the street with me.
There is a place for "cat" and "kit,"
and a place for "mouse" and "she."

Rook says that a mind is made like this: it keeps each word as a place, and many places make a great map. The words used in the same way stand near each other. Rook does not know how it comes to be so. The tutors say they drilled a mind on the archive, and when they looked, the words had gathered, sheep by wool, and ice by snow, with no one to tell them how.

Walk down the street of words, my dear,
Walk down the street with me.
Some words live very far apart,
and some are close as can be.

(Sung at the bridge at Ambrook by the children. The last verse is Rook's, and he says it is the best.)
%%
Song: the apprentice and the bet
A long ballad for the long nights, made by Abel, who tends the lamps at Ambrook, and sung at the lamp house in winter. It tells how Abel's bet with Tuck went, and what the new apprentice did.

A new apprentice came to the lamp house door,
All copper and iron, and it stood on the floor.
I said to the keeper, "What can it do?"
The keeper said, "Try it. It will learn it too."

Then Tuck laughed and said, "I will wager a coin
That it cannot tell a flame from a line.
It has a crystal for a mind, but that is not enough.
It will mix up the lamps, and the oil, and the stuff."

I said, "Tuck, you are wrong. It is steady and sure.
It was drilled in the layers, and the numbers are pure."
"Pure?" said Tuck. "What do you mean by pure?"
I said, "Even. Not too wild. And that's what's sure."

Oh, bring it back even, bring it back down,
Bring it back even, to a fair, good size.
The numbers in a deep mind grow as they run,
Unless each layer sets them straight, one by one.

So I set the apprentice to trim a lamp wick.
It did it with care, and it did it quick.
It trimmed all the wicks and it set them upright,
And it did not drop one, and it kept them bright.

Tuck paid me the coin, and he shook his head.
"It is the numbers," he said, "or so you said."
I said, "It is the numbers, kept even, and tight.
It's the reason the mind learned to do the thing right."

Oh, bring it back even, bring it back down,
Bring it back even, to a fair, good size.
The numbers in a deep mind grow as they run,
Unless each layer sets them straight, one by one.

The apprentice stood by with its wick and its hand.
I do not know if it understood, or if it can.
But the lamp house is bright, and the oil is dry,
And Tuck still owes me a coin for the pie.
%%
Sorrel's Autumn Song
At the house beside the road,
Leaves gather by the door.
Sorrel sweeps them in a heap,
Then finds some on the floor.

Keep the pages, sort them well,
Keep the good and clear.
Spoiled pages make a poor drill,
So brush the bad ones here.

The jar of honey sits beside
The lamp upon the shelf.
Pip came in to taste a spoon.
He took two for himself.

Keep the pages, sort them well,
Keep the good and clear.
Spoiled pages make a poor drill,
So brush the bad ones here.

The wind turns cold at Three Wells.
The leaves go past the sill.
Sorrel shuts the door at dusk.
The road grows quiet still.
%%
Song: what have you got?
A call-and-answer song for the Northpoint market. Half the crowd calls and half the crowd answers. Everybody sings the chorus, loudly, because it is cold.

Emmet, Emmet, what have you got?
Honey, honey, two a pot!
Lorn, Lorn, what have you got?
Eggs, eggs, a few, not a lot!
Teg, Teg, what have you got?
Bread from the ridge, and it's frozen on the spot!

Come to the market, come buy, come buy,
The sun is low and the snow is high!

Pim, Pim, what have you got?
Socks, socks, all in a knot!
Nell, Nell, what have you got?
Pies, pies, piping hot!
Odo, Odo, what have you got?
Oil for the lamps, and plenty of it, the lot!

Come to the market, come buy, come buy,
The sun is low and the snow is high!

Hild, Hild, what have you got?
Cheese, cheese, with a rind like a knot!
Rafe, Rafe, what have you got?
Candles, candles, in every spot!
Mira, Mira, what have you got?
A lamp, a stove, and a fox on my cot!

Come to the market, come buy, come buy,
The sun is low and the snow is high!

Dov, Dov, what have you got?
Logs, logs, split and dry, the lot!
Sela, Sela, what have you got?
Hats, hats, of wool, a lot!
Kell, Kell, what have you got?
Salt fish from the sea, tied in a knot!

Come to the market, come buy, come buy,
The sun is low and the snow is high!

Crate, Crate, what have you got?
Everything! I put it away on the spot!
Fox, fox, what have you got?
Nothing, nothing, but I'd like a lot!

Come to the market, come buy, come buy,
The sun is low and the snow is high!

Everybody, everybody, what have we got?
Cold toes, and a cheerful lot!

Come to the market, come buy, come buy,
The sun is low and the snow is high!

(Crate is the market apprentice. It does not sing. It carries the stalls home, and nobody has ever lost one.)
%%
Song: the map of the mine road
Corin the shipwright wrote down this song in a hamlet near Copperhold, where he had gone in spring to buy iron for the new slip. The miners sing it going to work, and the verses can be made up as they go.

I found a map in my father's coat,
Folded small as a boat,
It showed the road from the hill to the hold,
With a pen mark here and a stain of cold.

Chorus:
Which way, which way, which way to go?
Left at the oak and right at the stone,
Past the old well, where the cold winds blow,
And home by the light of a torch of your own.

The map said, "Walk by the second stream,"
But the stream had moved, as streams will seem,
It said, "Cross the bridge," and the bridge was gone,
And I stood on the bank and sang this song.

Chorus:
Which way, which way, which way to go?
Left at the oak and right at the stone,
Past the old well, where the cold winds blow,
And home by the light of a torch of your own.

Then up came Hesk with his lunch in a sack,
He looked at the map and said, "Turn back."
"The bridge is down," said he, "but there's a ford,
And a cart road too, if you have a sword."

Chorus:
Which way, which way, which way to go?
Left at the oak and right at the stone,
Past the old well, where the cold winds blow,
And home by the light of a torch of your own.

So I put the map back in my father's coat,
And I followed Hesk, and I steered my boat,
Through the mud and the mist and the spring-time rain,
And I got where I'm going, again and again.

Chorus:
Which way, which way, which way to go?
Left at the oak and right at the stone,
Past the old well, where the cold winds blow,
And home by the light of a torch of your own.
%%
Song: The Cider Song
Apples from Ambrook, red and round,
We press them down and we press them down.
The wheel goes round, the juice runs clear,
The best of the year is the cider here.

Cider, cider, sweet and brown,
The best of the year is the cider now.

Jory's mill turns dawn to dusk,
The sluice stays shut, the apples must
Go under the stone and come out gold,
A barrel for young and a barrel for old.

Cider, cider, sweet and brown,
The best of the year is the cider now.

Pell brings a cart from the Long Road down,
He drinks one cup and he buys the town.
He says, Fallon, this is fine and true,
I will take six barrels home with you.

Cider, cider, sweet and brown,
The best of the year is the cider now.

So fill your cup at the winter fair,
With a hoop of smoke in the frosty air.
The bees are asleep and the trees are bare,
But the cider is here and the cider is there.

Cider, cider, sweet and brown,
The best of the year is the cider now.
%%
Song: the melon that would not leave
Oh, I had a melon, a big green melon,
It grew in the bottom field.
It grew as big as a cart, as big as a barn,
It grew as big as a shield.

Roll it home, roll it home,
Who will roll it home?
It's too big for the door, it's too big for the gate,
It's too big for the whole of the loam.

The visiting tutor came by on the road,
She said, "What a fine large thing."
She poked it once, and she tapped it twice,
And she heard a noise like a ring.

Roll it home, roll it home,
Who will roll it home?
It's too big for the door, it's too big for the gate,
It's too big for the whole of the loam.

The tutor said, "Let me bring my apprentice,
It carries, and it is strong."
The apprentice came, and the apprentice pushed,
And the melon stayed where it belonged.

Roll it home, roll it home,
Who will roll it home?
It's too big for the door, it's too big for the gate,
It's too big for the whole of the loam.

So we cut it up where it sat in the field,
And we ate it, all that day.
We had melon soup and melon pie
And melon to give away.

We ate it for supper, we ate it for tea,
We ate it for a week and a day.
And the seeds that were left made a field next year
Of a hundred melons, they say.

Roll it home, roll it home,
Who will roll it home?
It's too big for the door, it's too big for the gate,
But it's never too big to hold.

(Mira's song, sung at the farm outside Northpoint every autumn when the melons are in. She wrote it the year the biggest one grew. She says the tutor ate three slices and wrote it down in her book as a measurement.)
%%
Song: the thin winter
The wheat came thin and the apples few,
The pumpkins small and the beetroot too,
But the fire is bright and the stove is warm,
And nobody here has come to harm.

Thin winter, thin winter, thin winter, oh,
We'll eat what we have and let the cold go.

The pantry is so empty you can hear it sigh,
The mouse has packed his bundle and said goodbye.
He left a note beside the flour bin:
"I'm off to Three Wells. They've got a baker in."

Thin winter, thin winter, thin winter, oh,
We'll eat what we have and let the cold go.

The cat looks at the cupboard, the cupboard looks at the cat,
And neither one of them has much to say to that.
Gran counts the beets, and she counts them twice,
"Eleven," she says. "And that is nice."

Thin winter, thin winter, thin winter, oh,
We'll eat what we have and let the cold go.

Then a knock on the door, and a neighbor stands there
With half a cake and a loaf to spare,
And another comes with a pot of jam,
And another with a bit of ham.

Thin winter, thin winter, thin winter, oh,
We'll eat what we have, and we'll share it so.

So the house is full and the table is wide,
And all the thin things are laid out inside,
A thin little cake, a thin little ham,
And thick, thick friends, and a pot of jam.

Thin winter, thin winter, thin winter, oh,
We'll eat what we have and let the cold go.

(A song for a poor year, sung at the hamlet's winter suppers. The children sing the mouse's note in a squeaky voice. Vale, who has the lowest voice in the hamlet, sings it too.)
%%
The long song of the stream
Come, sit down, and hear the old song sung,
The one the tutors sing when the drill is done.
It is about a stream, and a stack, and a blame,
And how a mind that learns can learn again.

First the tutors had a problem, and it was a sad one.
A mind with many layers could not learn at all.
It took the first layer's finding and it lost it
Before the last layer ever saw it.
The deep ones were like empty buckets.
You could pour and pour, and nothing stayed.

Then came the stream, which was a simple idea.
Each layer adds what it found to one stream,
And the stream runs down through the whole stack,
From the first layer to the last, and back.
So nothing is lost on the road.
The deep ones carry what the shallow ones have found.

Ah, the stream runs under all,
Like the river under the mill.
Each wheel turns on the same water.
Each layer turns on the same stream.

Then came the blame. Merle of Copperhold found it,
In the year when the frogs were loud at Lowmarsh.
When the answer was wrong, she said, the blame should go back.
From the answer, to the layer before it, and so on,
Down to the very first layer, which is the eye.
Each one is told its share, and each one changes a little.
That is how the mind learns to be less wrong.

So the stream carries the blame and the finding together.
It is the same water going up and down.
It is the same water that turns the wheel.

Now, sing it through, and sing it slow.
The stream runs down, and the blame runs back.
A mind with a stream can learn a hundred things.
A mind without one learns only the first.

Isla of Vell, who was a clever woman,
Said that the stream was like a river of letters.
Every letter a finding, every page a layer.
The reader carries the river through the book.

Then Nessa taught it to the children, year by year,
With the same tune and the same clap at the end.
The children learned the words before they learned the sums,
And the sums were easier, because of the words.

So sing it at the end of the drill, and at the start of the next.
Sing it when the first answer is wrong, and the second is right.
The stream runs under all, and the blame runs back,
And a mind that learns is a mind that does not stop.

(The tutors' song of the stream. It is sung at Vell at the end of the great drills, in the copying room, with the lanterns lit. The old tutors say it is too long. The young tutors say it is not long enough.)
%%
Song: the new road
Pick and shovel, stone and clay,
Lay the road down, lay the road down.
Cobble and earth and a torch to show the way,
All the way to Three Wells town.

Lay it straight and lay it flat,
Pack the earth down, pack the earth down.
A cart will thank you and a horse will too,
All the way to Three Wells town.

Every twelve blocks, a torch on a post,
Light the road up, light the road up.
If you walk it at night you will not be lost,
All the way to Three Wells town.

Over the stream, a bridge of stone,
Build it strong now, build it strong now.
Stone if you can and oak if you must,
All the way to Three Wells town.

Lenn blew the glass for the waymark tops,
Little green lamps, little green lamps.
Nine for Ninewell and three for the fair,
All the way to Three Wells town.

Pick and shovel, stone and clay,
Lay the road down, lay the road down.
The road is done and the carts all say,
All the way to Three Wells town.
%%
Ballad: The honey loaf
Arlo the miller made a loaf,
He meant it for the fair.
He put the honey in too soon,
And salt got everywhere.
Oh the loaf, the honey loaf,
It was not fit to eat.
The cat would not come near it,
And the cat is fond of wheat.
He gave a slice to little Bel,
She chewed and chewed and said,
This bread is very interesting,
And put it under the bed.
Oh the loaf, the honey loaf,
It was not fit to eat.
The dog came in and sniffed the crust,
And went back to the street.
He gave a slice to Isla then,
Who came down from the hill.
She said, the curve of bread is fine,
But the taste is somewhat ill.
Oh the loaf, the honey loaf,
It was not fit to eat.
So Arlo wrote the recipe,
And marked it, do not repeat.
Next time less salt, and honey slow,
And watch the oven heat.
%%
Song: pack it light
We're moving house, we're moving house,
The old one is too wide.
We'll pack the pots and pack the cat
And take the stove inside.

Pack it light and pack it tight,
It all fits in and it feels just right.

The big bed stays, the small bed goes,
Two chairs where there were three.
The pots are stacked from big to small
And the cat sits on my knee.

Pack it light and pack it tight,
It all fits in and it feels just right.

We left behind the fancy cups,
The coat we never wore.
Six spoons were more than we could use,
So now we keep just four.

Pack it light and pack it tight,
It all fits in and it feels just right.

The house is half the size it was,
The stove is twice as warm.
We lost a little elbow room,
But nothing came to harm.

Pack it light and pack it tight,
It all fits in and it feels just right.

That's how they moved the mind, they say,
Down to a crystal small.
Each number written with fewer marks,
And room to spare for all.

It lost a few of its answers, true,
About two in a hundred, no more.
But it fits in the little crystal now,
And it works as it worked before.

Pack it light and pack it tight,
It all fits in and it feels just right.

(Piper sang this the day she moved her hens into the smaller shed. Dell's class sing the last two verses to explain the tutors' trick. Mira says two in a hundred is a number she can live with.)
%%
Lullaby for Sallow End
Written by Wren, healer at Lowmarsh, for the first night of a new baby at Sallow End, in Blossom. Hum it low. The baby does not mind the words. The mother does.

Sleep, little one, the reeds are still,
The lamp is lit on the window sill.
The long snow's gone from off the hill.
Sleep, little one, the reeds are still.

The wells are open and the trough runs clear,
And nobody is cold in the house this year.
The cows are out, and the cows are fed,
And the cat has taken the warm side of the bed.
Sleep, little one, the reeds are still,
The lamp is lit on the window sill.

The frogs will sing when the sun comes up,
And you will wake to the bread and the cup.
So close your eyes and hush your cry,
The night is long, and the night goes by.
Sleep, little one, the reeds are still,
The lamp is lit on the window sill.
%%
Song: the inn on the Long Road
A song for the long room at the Halfway Inn, sung by the carters when the hearth is high and the road is dark. Hal put it together from what the carters said, and the carters sing it back with corrections.
Come in from the road with the mud on your boots,
The hearth is lit and the room is loud.
Hang up your coat and find a seat,
The soup is hot and the bread is sweet.
Refrain:
Long road, long road, the dark of the night,
Here is the hearth, and the hearth is bright.
The waymark stone gave you a figure and an arrow,
And the arrow pointed here, and the figure was narrow.
Refrain:
Long road, long road, the dark of the night,
Here is the hearth, and the hearth is bright.
The riddle board is by the door,
Solve a riddle, and the riddle asks for more.
Refrain:
Long road, long road, the dark of the night,
Here is the hearth, and the hearth is bright.
A stool by the fire, and a bench by the wall,
A cup of cider, and a cup for the wall too, after all.
Refrain:
Long road, long road, the dark of the night,
Here is the hearth, and the hearth is bright.
The carters tell the tale of the road to the sea,
The fog, the cart, the ford, the tree.
Refrain:
Long road, long road, the dark of the night,
Here is the hearth, and the hearth is bright.
%%
Song: the tutor who came in the hay
Bel's family had a tutor come to the farm in Blossom,
With a box of cards and a crystal in a cloth.
She said she wanted to see the apprentice at work,
And the apprentice was Pip, and Pip was very proud.

Show it the card, and say what it is,
Show it again, and do not be cross.
Right, or wrong, or nearly there,
Show it again, the way the farm is run.

The tutor said Pip was learning fine,
But Pip still thought the hay was a bed.
It tried to sort the hay by colour,
And Bel laughed until she had to sit.

Show it the card, and say what it is,
Show it again, and do not be cross.
Right, or wrong, or nearly there,
Show it again, the way the farm is run.

At the end of the day the tutor sat on the step,
And drank a cup of Father's cider.
She said Bel could come to the tutor house in Frost,
If she wanted to learn the drills herself.

Show it the card, and say what it is,
Show it again, and do not be cross.
Right, or wrong, or nearly there,
Show it again, the way the farm is run.
%%
Song: what the great drills read
A song with verses and a refrain. Bel made it for the school at Three Wells in autumn, after Teacher Ida told them about the great drills. The tune is slow, and the last verse is sung quietly.

They drilled a mind on the archive's store,
A thousand pages, and then a thousand more,
It read each letter and guessed the next,
And when it was wrong it was gently vexed.

Refrain
Who wrote the letters? Who wrote the words?
The farmers and the clerks and the birds?
Nobody knows whose they were,
But they went in, and they were heard.

The pages came in by the cartload each day,
The clerks stacked them high and sent them away,
Some from the market and some from the mill,
And some from the children at Three Wells hill.

Refrain
Who wrote the letters? Who wrote the words?
The farmers and the clerks and the birds?
Nobody knows whose they were,
But they went in, and they were heard.

Some say the clerks asked every house,
Some say they took what they could, like a mouse,
Some say it was only the archive's own,
And some say the rest were stones.

Refrain
Who wrote the letters? Who wrote the words?
The farmers and the clerks and the birds?
Nobody knows whose they were,
But they went in, and they were heard.

The mind that read grew wise and tall,
It learned how letters rise and fall,
How "once upon" comes before "a time,"
And a hen comes after "the," for a rhyme.

Refrain
Who wrote the letters? Who wrote the words?
The farmers and the clerks and the birds?
Nobody knows whose they were,
But they went in, and they were heard.

And so when you write, remember this song,
Your words may travel a very long
Way, to a mind in a crystal stone,
That reads them all, and reads them alone.

Refrain
Who wrote the letters? Who wrote the words?
The farmers and the clerks and the birds?
Nobody knows whose they were,
But they went in, and they were heard.
%%
The Lantern at the Halfway Inn
The Halfway Inn has a lamp above the door.
It shines on the waymark and the road.
Lark trims the wick before the supper bell.
The innkeeper says she trims it twice.

Light in the window, light by the gate,
A warm room waits for those who are late.
Tie up the horses, loosen the load,
There is room at the inn on the Long Road.

One autumn night the lamp blinked once,
Then blinked again, then held its light.
A traveler stopped beneath the post.
He said, "That lamp has called me here."

Lark looked up from the stable yard.
The lamp had no words, only a flash.
The keeper came out with a wooden stool.
He found the wick was loose in its cup.

Light in the window, light by the gate,
A warm room waits for those who are late.
Tie up the horses, loosen the load,
There is room at the inn on the Long Road.

They fixed the cup and watched the lamp.
It blinked three times, then burned quite still.
The traveler took the dry bench by the fire.
He said, "I knew it meant a hot meal."

Lark fed his horse and rubbed its neck.
The horse bit gently at her sleeve.
The innkeeper gave it a lump of hay.
"That is no message," she said. "That is a guest."
%%
Song: the long road goes on
Oh the Long Road runs from the south to the north,
Past the Brown Hen and the bend and the bridge.
Every stone of it counted, every torch lit,
Every inn a day apart on the ridge.

Walk it, walk it, the road is wide,
Walk it, walk it, the marks go by.
Count them out and count them back,
And the Long Road brings you home at last.

Old Pell drives his cart with a load of salt,
Carter Dunn has a horse and a sack.
The waymarks stand with their torches high,
And the arrow points where the innkeepers wait.

Walk it, walk it, the road is wide,
Walk it, walk it, the marks go by.
Count them out and count them back,
And the Long Road brings you home at last.

Now there is a tower on the hill at the bend,
Its lamp is blinking to the next one along.
A keeper with a book and a cup of tea,
Writing down the news that comes in the song.

Walk it, walk it, the road is wide,
Walk it, walk it, the marks go by.
Count them out and count them back,
And the Long Road brings you home at last.
%%
Work chant: clear the path
Lift the branch and set it there.
Leave the little shoots some air.
Drag the old snow from the lane.
Keep the water from the grain.

Clear the path, clear it wide.
Brin has seed jars to carry inside.
Clear the path, clear it wide.
Nell has a basket on the other side.

One for the ditch and two for the gate.
Three for the shovel we left too late.
Four for the stones beside the shed.
Five for the plank that broke instead.

Clear the path, clear it wide.
Brin has seed jars to carry inside.
Clear the path, clear it wide.
Nell has a basket on the other side.

The shovel is found under the snow.
The plank is not. We let that go.
A fox has passed beside the fence.
It left no note. That makes good sense.

(Brin and Nell sing while clearing the spring path to their plots. The fox has no work to do.)
%%
Song: the cake that would not rise
Oh, I made a cake for Hob's birthday,
I made it proper, I made it fine,
I beat the eggs and I beat the butter,
And I put in all the flour and milk.

Oh, the cake would not rise, would not rise,
The cake would not rise, my dear.
I put in more honey, I put in more milk,
And the cake sat down and sulked all year.

I used the bread-salt, not the sugar,
I used the lamp oil, by mistake.
The dog ate half before it cooled,
And the cat sat on the rest, for her sake.

Oh, the cake would not rise, would not rise,
The cake would not rise, my dear.
I put in more honey, I put in more milk,
And the cake sat down and sulked all year.

But Hob ate the middle, and Hob ate the edge,
And Hob ate the crumbs off the floor.
He said it was the finest cake he had had,
And asked me for another, and more.

Oh, the cake would not rise, would not rise,
The cake would not rise, my dear.
I put in more honey, I put in more milk,
And the cake sat down and sulked all year.
%%
Song: turnip cart
A farm song from the hill below Copperhold

The cart has one wheel higher,
The cart has one wheel low.
We load the turnips carefully,
Then off to market go.

Roll, cart, roll,
Keep the sacks inside.
If one turnip hits the road,
Let it take a ride.

The mule says no to uphill,
The driver says, "You must."
The mule steps round a puddle,
And leaves us in the dust.

Roll, cart, roll,
Keep the sacks inside.
If one turnip hits the road,
Let it take a ride.
%%
Ballad: The wheel at the farm
The farm outside Vell had a mill,
With a wheel that turned by the stream.
It ground the wheat for bread,
And squeaked like a mouse in a dream.

Turn, old wheel, turn if you can.
Grind us the flour for the pot and the pan.
If you stop in the middle of work,
Vale will come with a rope and a jerk.

One day the wheel lost a board.
It rocked, then stopped with a clack.
The miller said, "It is only a board."
The wheel said nothing back.

We tied it with oak and cord.
We set the board firm in place.
The miller gave it one turn,
And flour rose over his face.

Turn, old wheel, turn if you can.
Grind us the flour for the pot and the pan.
Vale shook the flour from her sleeve.
The miller shook flour from his hair.
The hens came running to see.
There was flour on the cat's chair.

We ate our bread by the stream.
The wheel kept turning all day.
At supper, the miller found flour
In his boot, and had nothing to say.
%%
Song: what the next layer found
We brought the drill box to the yard,
And set the cards in rows.
The tutor had a crystal there,
With marks beneath the glass.

She showed it apples, pears and plums,
Then asked it where each went.
It sorted one small pear with plums,
And every child cried, "Wrong!"

Not all at once, the tutor said.
A weight moved a little way.
We showed the crystal more of them,
And tried again next day.

Carry the finding, carry the finding,
Let the next layer see.
Each layer adds what it has found,
And passes it along the stream.

A mind with one layer learned a little,
A rule for one small task.
But more layers could carry what came first,
Then add to what they asked.

The first layer found a mark,
The next layer found a sign.
The deeper layers kept the thread,
And made a longer line.

We asked if the stream was water.
The tutor said, "No, child.
It is a name for what each layer keeps,
And adds to as it learns."

Carry the finding, carry the finding,
Let the next layer see.
Each layer adds what it has found,
And passes it along the stream.

The drill box had a loose brass hinge.
Pip set it right with string.
He tied the card for apples fast,
And tied it to his sleeve.

At supper, Tam found apples there,
And asked what work he'd done.
Pip said he learned to sort the cards,
But nothing about a son.

The room laughed loud enough to wake
The hens beside the wall.
The tutor closed the box at dusk,
And counted every card.

(From a summer lesson remembered by a pupil of Nessa.)
%%
Ballad: the road to Three Wells
Who drew the road to Three Wells square?
Who measured every stone and rod of it there?
A surveyor with a chain and rope,
And a boy who held the paper on the slope.

The new road came from the Long Road's side,
And all the carts went rolling wide.
Each bend was checked, each hill was weighed,
And all the stones were paid.

When the road was done the carts went through,
And the mill wheel turned for the first time new.
The old map is in the Archive, folded twice,
With a dot for Three Wells, and the dot is nice.

The clerks say the map is old and dry.
The children say it is the sky.
Both are right, and both are wrong,
And the road still runs, and the carts still throng.

(A ballad for the road crew. It is sung in the drinking room at the inn, and each verse ends with a different name, so no one can say which one is the last.)
%%
Ballad: The Missing Turnip

At the Brown Hen in Longnight,
A cart came late along the road.
The driver brought a sack of turnips
And set it down beside his load.

Refrain:
Turn the pot, and mind the fire.
Pass the bread and pass the bowl.
If the road is dark and cold,
A warm inn mends the traveler whole.

Pell came in to count the sacks.
He counted twice, then counted three.
"One turnip is gone," he said.
The innkeeper looked at him.

A turnip sat upon the bench.
A turnip sat beneath the chair.
A turnip rested in Pell's coat.
He said he put no turnip there.

Refrain:
Turn the pot, and mind the fire.
Pass the bread and pass the bowl.
If the road is dark and cold,
A warm inn mends the traveler whole.

The innkeeper made a pot of stew.
The driver asked for one more bowl.
Pell found the turnip in his coat
And said it must have climbed there whole.

The room laughed loud enough to shake
The soot from the beam above.
Pell paid for every turnip,
Then bought the driver a loaf.

Refrain:
Turn the pot, and mind the fire.
Pass the bread and pass the bowl.
If the road is dark and cold,
A warm inn mends the traveler whole.

The sack was tied with cord that night.
The cord was tied around the cart.
Pell checked it once before he slept.
Then checked it twice, to be sure.

(Recalled by the Brown Hen keeper. Pell says the turnip was not in his coat.)
%%
Song: The Field Under the Field

The Brown Hen stood beside the road
Where Kettle Ridge carts went by.
Tam brought wheat in Frost and snow,
With Pip walking at his side.

Refrain:
Keep the lamp and keep the line.
Keep the road clear in the snow.
Share the fire and share the news.
There is room for all who go.

The cart wheel sank beside a field.
The earth gave way beneath one side.
Tam fetched a torch from the inn,
And found a hole below the ride.

They lowered a rope and looked below.
The hole opened into a cave.
There were roots above the dark stone,
And drops of water near the floor.

Pip carried the rope and held it fast.
Tam went down to see the space.
He found no gold and found no bones,
Only cold stone and a fox's trace.

Refrain:
Keep the lamp and keep the line.
Keep the road clear in the snow.
Share the fire and share the news.
There is room for all who go.

They marked the place with a post,
Then filled the wheel rut with stone.
Tam told the inn to mind the field.
The innkeeper said, "I mind my own."

By spring, the hole was fenced with oak.
The sheep could graze around the edge.
The fox came out at dusk one night
And stole a heel of bread from Pell.

Pell said the cave had found its owner.
The innkeeper said the bread was his.
Tam laughed, and Pip held the rope.
The road stayed open through the thaw.

Refrain:
Keep the lamp and keep the line.
Keep the road clear in the snow.
Share the fire and share the news.
There is room for all who go.

(Pell added the last verse after losing another heel of bread.)
%%
Ballad: Teg's last cart
Teg drove the last cart north that year
With Emmet at his side,
And forty jars of Ambrook honey,
All wrapped in wool and tied.

The snow came down at Kettle Ridge,
The wind was like a knife.
The horse leaned in against the cold
And pulled with all his life.

At the second waymark past the ridge
A white fox crossed their way.
She sat down in the middle of the road
And would not go away.

"Drive on," said Teg. "She'll move aside."
The fox sat calm and still.
She looked at the horse, the horse looked back,
And both stood on the hill.

Then Emmet took a jar of honey
And a plate from his bag.
He set it on the trampled snow,
And the fox's tail gave a wag.

She licked the plate until it shone.
She bowed her head, and then
She stepped aside and let them by,
And they rolled on again.

At tower two the keeper came
With soup in a steaming bowl.
They drank it standing in the door,
And it warmed them to the soul.

Past tower two there's nothing at all
But spruce and hills of white,
And the snow comes down so soft and slow
It is like the world at night.

Said Emmet, "Will they buy at all?
It's cold, and the wages are thin."
Said Teg, "They'll buy. They've no honey up there.
A cold place wants what is sweet within."

And then they saw the Northpoint lamp
Like a star come down to rest,
And Mira on the ninety rungs
Waved in her warmest vest.

The market opened the next day,
The stalls in the cold sun.
Lorn bought a jar, and Pim bought two,
And the children shared one.

The fox came down to the market too
And sat by Emmet's stall.
She did not ask, she did not buy,
She watched the jars, that's all.

So Emmet set a plate behind
The stall, and she came near,
And licked it clean in the cold sun
While all the children gave a cheer.

Mira bought the last jar of all
And carried it up the stair.
She saved it for the longest night
And ate it with the fox there.

They turned the cart for the road south
With an empty bed and a song.
The fox came to the second waymark
And watched them all along.

So if you walk the north road, then,
When the snow lies deep and white,
Leave a plate of honey at the second waymark.
It is only polite.

(Sung at Ambrook when the last cart goes north. Emmet says every word of it is true. Teg says the fox was bigger.)
%%
Song: the storm that came over the marsh
Oh the wind came in from the open sea,
It blew through the reeds and the willow tree.
It shook the boats on the quay at night,
And every light went out but the light.

Hold the rope and hold it tight,
Keep the lamp and keep it bright.
Hold the rope and hold it true,
The wind will go, the stars come through.

The fishers came up from the harbor wall,
With their nets half-torn and their hands in a shawl.
They said the sea was white and high,
And the boats were gone, and so was the sky.

Hold the rope and hold it tight,
Keep the lamp and keep it bright.
Hold the rope and hold it true,
The wind will go, the stars come through.

But in the morning the boats came in,
With the nets still torn, and a little grin.
The wind had gone, the sun was out,
And the tide was low, and the quay was stout.

Hold the rope and hold it tight,
Keep the lamp and keep it bright.
Hold the rope and hold it true,
The wind will go, the stars come through.

(A song for the storm nights at the Saltreach hamlet. The men sing it on the quay while the nets are mended. The women say they should sing it inside, where it is warm.)
%%
Ballad of the lamb in the reeds
Willa's ballad. She sings it to the lambs at lambing, and to the children who will not sleep.
The lamb went out at Thaw's last light,
Through the gate and into the night.
The water rose, the reeds grew tall,
And the lamb was lost among them all.
Refrain:
Come home, little one, come home,
The reeds are wide and the water's foam.
Willa went out with a lantern high,
And called across the marsh and the sky.
She called by the bend of the stream,
And the lamb did not answer, and she did not scream.
Refrain:
Come home, little one, come home,
The reeds are wide and the water's foam.
At dawn she heard a bleat from the bank,
Small and cross, and cold, and frank.
It had walked all night beside the ditch,
And it was not sorry, and did not itch.
Refrain:
Come home, little one, come home,
The reeds are wide and the water's foam.
She lifted the lamb and carried it home,
Past the mill, past the gate, past the bridge's foam.
Her mother said she was soft as wool,
And the lamb ate its breakfast, and then went back to the pool.
Refrain:
Come home, little one, come home,
The reeds are wide and the water's foam.
%%
Song for the creeper and the wall
Written by Oren, clerk, as it is sung in a hamlet near Vell, after a creeper blew up the wall by the well. The tune is the windmill tune, though nobody agrees on what that tune is.

Oh, the creeper came quiet, the creeper came slow,
It walked round the wall as the lamps began to glow.
It hissed at the stones, and it looked at the gate,
And then, oh, the wall went up very late.

Mend it, mend it, stone by stone,
Put the pattern back, and the road is home.
Mend it, mend it, row by row,
The creeper will come, and the creeper will go.

The mayor came out with a cart and a rope,
The baker brought bread, and a little more hope.
The stones were counted, the gaps were filled,
And the wall stood up in the spring, all skilled.

Mend it, mend it, stone by stone,
Put the pattern back, and the road is home.
Mend it, mend it, row by row,
The creeper will come, and the creeper will go.
%%
The tutor who looked inside
Sung at the spring fair at Sallow End. Written down by Wren, who liked the tune and wanted it kept. It is a slow song about a plain idea, so sing it slowly.

Maud was a tutor up at Vell,
She kept a mind in a crystal, clear as a well.
A mind, she said, is a crowd of weights,
Each one leaning a little, and none of them straight.
Some of it found, and the rest still dark.
Hold up the lamp, and make the mark.

She opened the crystal and held up the light,
And saw the crowd of weights, all shining bright.
One little group found the edge of a word,
Where one word stops, and the next is heard.
Some of it found, and the rest still dark.
Hold up the lamp, and make the mark.

Another group held on to a name,
Across a long sentence, and kept it the same.
A third kept count of the lines it read,
And when the count was wrong, it read again instead.
Some of it found, and the rest still dark.
Hold up the lamp, and make the mark.

But most of the weights were a crowd, she said,
Leaning in ways she could not name, or read.
She could not say what all of them were for.
Some of it found. The rest is a door
That nobody has opened yet, and nobody is sure.
Hold up the lamp, and make the mark.

A tutor finds a piece and calls it a part,
But the crowd is still a crowd, and that is the start.
Why a crystal learns at all, nobody knows.
So we look inside, and the looking is what grows.
Some of it found, and the rest still dark.
Hold up the lamp, and make the mark.
%%
Lullaby: after the long winter
Sleep, small Pip, the wind is done.
The snow lies low beyond the sun.
Your socks are dry beside the bed.
Your cap is hanging by the shed.

Sleep now, little seed and child.
The spring wind is no longer wild.
Sleep now, little seed and child.
The lamp will keep the dark out mild.

Brin put oats beside the stove.
He put the wet boots by the grove.
He brought them in when Nell said, "Brin,
The grove is out. The boots are in."

The winter held the road all long.
We kept the lamp and sang this song.
We mended mittens, patched the wall.
We shared the last warm bun with all.

Sleep now, little seed and child.
The spring wind is no longer wild.
Sleep now, little seed and child.
The lamp will keep the dark out mild.

When thaw came, Brin went to see
If spring had left a seed or three.
The jars were safe. The beans were dry.
A small green point came up nearby.

Sleep, small Pip, the wind is done.
The snow lies low beyond the sun.
Your socks are dry beside the bed.
Your cap is hanging by the shed.

(Brin sang this after a long winter at Northpoint. Pip slept through the last verse and woke to ask for the bun.)
%%
Song: Longnight lanterns
Hang a lantern in the window,
Hang a lantern on the gate.
It's the longest night of winter,
And the dawn is running late.

One for the dark and one for the light,
Light them all on the longest night.

Light one for the baker, light one for the mill,
One for the lane at the top of the hill.
Light one for the road and one for the cart,
One for each friend who is far apart.

One for the dark and one for the light,
Light them all on the longest night.

Children carry lanterns small,
Singing at the door of one and all.
At every door they stop and sing,
And get a honey cake for the song they bring.

One for the dark and one for the light,
Light them all on the longest night.

Midnight comes and the snow falls light,
Every window is gold in the night.
Fox on the hill and wolf in the glen
Look at the lights and look again.

One for the dark and one for the light,
Light them all on the longest night.

Dawn will come, though it comes late.
Hold your lantern, stand and wait.
And when the sun comes over the hill,
We'll blow them out, but we'll love them still.

One for the dark and one for the light,
Light them all on the longest night.

(Sung on the longest night by the children of the hamlet, from door to door. The night watch walks behind them with a bucket of water, in case of lanterns.)
%%
Ballad: The harvest at Vale's farm
On the farm outside Vell, in summer,
The wheat stood high beside the lane.
The apples were round on the branches,
And the bees went out again.

Bring the baskets, bring the rope.
Bring the sickle from the shed.
We will gather what the fields have given,
Then bake our loaves of bread.

Vale checked the hives in the morning.
She found one lid loose in the heat.
She set it straight and brushed off a bee.
It landed on her hat, not her feet.

The farm hand called from the wheat,
"The last row bends to the east."
Vale called back, "Then cut it from there.
Leave some stalks for the small birds' feast."

Bring the baskets, bring the rope.
Bring the sickle from the shed.
We will gather what the fields have given,
Then bake our loaves of bread.

At noon we ate by the well.
There were apples and bread and cheese.
A bee came down to inspect the food.
It chose the honey, as you please.

The miller's wheel stopped by the stream.
A board had cracked from the turning.
We carried the wheat in sacks to Vell.
The miller stayed back for the mending.

Bring the baskets, bring the rope.
Bring the sickle from the shed.
We will gather what the fields have given,
Then bake our loaves of bread.

We cut the last strip before dusk.
The baskets stood full by the gate.
Vale counted them twice, then once more.
The farm hand said, "That is eight."
She counted again. It was nine.
He had been leaning on one.

The wheel was mended before moonrise.
The miller set it to turn.
We took our wheat in the morning,
And brought back flour to earn.

Bring the baskets, bring the rope.
Bring the sickle from the shed.
We will gather what the fields have given,
Then bake our loaves of bread.

At supper we ate fresh bread.
Vale set honey beside the pot.
The old cat slept under the table,
And the farm hand forgot his lot.

The wheat is safe, the hives are shut.
The tools are put away.
We thank the hands that worked with us,
And rest until the next day.

Bring the baskets, bring the rope.
Bring the sickle from the shed.
We have gathered what the fields have given.
Now let the bees sleep in their bed.
%%
Song: the melon too big
Oh, the melon on the vine, the melon on the vine,
It grew so big that it was fine.
Mira pushed and Mira pulled,
And the melon sat and would not be rolled.

Oh, the melon at the gate, the melon at the gate,
It was too big and it was late.
Tam came running with a rope,
And the melon sat there, full of hope.

(Mira wrote it on the farm outside Northpoint, in Apple, to make her brother laugh. He says it did.)
%%
The Brown Hen Refrain
At the Brown Hen, when leaves turn brown,
The carts come in from field and town.
They bring wheat, apples, honey, and news,
And muddy boots that mark the boards.

Bring in the bags and bring in the grain,
Hang up the coat and wipe off the rain.
Hay for a horse and stew for a friend,
The road is long but the inn has an end.

Lark keeps the stable gate shut tight.
A young horse noses every latch.
It opened one at the end of Longday
And ate the innkeeper's carrots for soup.

The keeper said, "The horse has good taste."
Lark said, "It has no taste for doors."
They moved the carrots to a high shelf.
The horse stood up and tried the shelf.

Bring in the bags and bring in the grain,
Hang up the coat and wipe off the rain.
Hay for a horse and stew for a friend,
The road is long but the inn has an end.

Pell arrived with apples from Ambrook.
He set one down beside his pack.
The horse left the carrots on the shelf
And took Pell's apple in one bite.

Pell called it theft. Lark called it trade.
The horse called nothing and asked for more.
They shared the apples after supper.
The horse got hay, as horses should.

Bring in the bags and bring in the grain,
Hang up the coat and wipe off the rain.
Hay for a horse and stew for a friend,
The road is long but the inn has an end.

When the lamps were lit, the road grew quiet.
The travelers sat with their bowls of stew.
The horse slept standing in its stall.
The young one tried the latch in its dreams.
%%
Song: Northpoint market day
The market's up at Northpoint, the stalls are in a row,
The wind is from the north, my dear, and so is all the snow.
The wind has teeth, the snow has feet, the tea is hot and thin,
But everyone comes out to buy, and everyone comes in.

Come to the market, come in the cold,
Come for the stew and the stories told.

Lorn has eggs, and Pim has wool,
The baker's cart has loaves in full.
Emmet's honey, dark and bright,
Shines like a lamp on the longest night.

Come to the market, come in the cold,
Come for the stew and the stories told.

The foxes watch us from the hill,
They want a sock, and they want one still.
Mira waves from the tower stair,
And Lantern waves, and the foxes stare.

Come to the market, come in the cold,
Come for the stew and the stories told.

At dusk the stalls come down at last,
The cold comes in, the day is past.
The market's gone, the snow lies deep,
And everyone goes home to sleep.

(A Northpoint song. Nobody sings the third verse in tune. The foxes sing it best.)
%%
Song: the helper who fetched the boat
Wynn made this one up on the ramp at Saltreach, then carried it to Three Wells on a fair day in autumn. The market sings it now.
I said to my helper, "Fetch me a plank."
It fetched me the boat instead.
I said to my helper, "Fetch me a plank,"
It fetched the whole boat on its head.
Oh, the plank, the plank, the plank, the plank,
I only wanted the plank.
The boat is big and the plank is small,
I only wanted the plank.
I said to my helper, "Put the saw away."
It put away the shed.
I said to my helper, "Put the saw away,"
It stored the shed on its head.
Oh, the plank, the plank, the plank, the plank,
I only wanted the plank.
The shed is big and the saw is small,
I only wanted the plank.
%%
Ballad: the night the lamp went out
A long song, for the autumn nights, as Orla the miller sings it in the hamlet near Saltreach. It has nine verses, and a chorus that everyone knows.

Chorus.
Oh, the lamp went out on the harbor tower,
And the boats were out on the bay.
But the babe was born in the hour,
And the fishers came home with the day.

Verse one.
It was an autumn night, a night of fog,
When the keeper's lamp went dark.
The wind was sharp, and the sea was a dog
That bayed in the cove and the park.

Verse two.
The net-mender's wife was in her bed,
With a pain like a knot in a rope.
The midwife was sent for, the midwife said,
"I will come, if the moon gives hope."

Chorus.
Oh, the lamp went out on the harbor tower,
And the boats were out on the bay.
But the babe was born in the hour,
And the fishers came home with the day.

Verse three.
The keeper looked up at her glass and sighed,
For a crack ran straight through the pane.
She sent a note to the towers beside,
But the note went out in the rain.

Verse four.
The fishers rowed in a fog like wool,
And they could not see the shore.
They called, and they called, till their throats were full,
And they called a little bit more.

Chorus.
Oh, the lamp went out on the harbor tower,
And the boats were out on the bay.
But the babe was born in the hour,
And the fishers came home with the day.

Verse five.
Now in the cottage by the sea,
The midwife held a light.
She put a candle in the window, three,
And then a fourth for the night.

Verse six.
And the fishers saw a glow on the shore,
Small as a firefly's spark.
They turned their oars, and they pulled once more,
Toward the light in the dark.

Chorus.
Oh, the lamp went out on the harbor tower,
And the boats were out on the bay.
But the babe was born in the hour,
And the fishers came home with the day.

Verse seven.
The first boat grounded on the sand,
The second behind the first.
Each man who stepped onto the land
Looked up at the candle's burst.

Verse eight.
They came to the door, and they heard a cry,
A small and wobbling sound.
The midwife said, "Come in, come by,
A new one has been found."

Verse nine.
They took off their caps, and they filled the room,
With nets and salt and tar.
They said, "Let the child be named for the moon,
Or the lamp, or the harbor star."

Last chorus.
Oh, the lamp went out on the harbor tower,
But the child's name is Light.
And every boat that comes at the hour
Sees a candle in the night.

(Orla wrote this after the night it happened. The child is called Lumi, and she keeps a candle in her window every autumn. The keeper at Saltreach has mended the pane.)
%%
Song: Mira's winter-coming song
The geese go over, the geese go over,
Calling to the south.
The leaves come down and the wind turns cold,
And the fox is in the mouth
Of the burrow, the burrow, under the snow.
It's time to bring the harvest in,
Time to bring the harvest in.

I carried the pumpkins up to the tower,
I carried the apples too.
I carried a melon as big as a stool,
And the keeper said, "Oh, it's you."

It's time to bring the harvest in,
Time to bring the harvest in.
The torches are lit and the lamp is lit,
And the long night is begun.

A tutor stopped at the foot of the tower
To rest on her way to the coast.
She tasted the melon, she tasted the pie,
She said she had never eaten the most.

It's time to bring the harvest in,
Time to bring the harvest in.
The torches are lit and the lamp is lit,
And the long night is begun.

I lit the lamp at the top of the stair
And watched the dark come down.
The farms below were small as stars,
And the road was a silver crown.

It's time to bring the harvest in,
Time to bring the harvest in.
The torches are lit and the lamp is lit,
And the long night is begun.

(Mira wrote it for the children at the farm outside Northpoint, who come up to the tower in autumn to see the lamp lit. She sings it flat. They love it.)
%%
Letter: Isla to the tutors at Vell
To the tutors, from Isla, written at the mill near Ambrook in the snow.
I stopped here two nights. The miller is called Arlo. He asked me about the curve and I told him plainly, and he understood it better than some clerks.
Here is the rule again, so it is written down. A mind with a bigger crystal, drilled longer on more writing, grows better. The growth follows a curve. You can draw the curve before the mind is grown, from what other minds did. It is not a straight line up. It bends. The first drilling gains the most and later gains come slower. But the bigger crystal and the longer drilling still gain more in the end.
The councils have read this and they build relay houses at the tower feet. A big mind needs a crystal the size of a loaf and a house to keep it cool. We should not promise more than the curve says.
The snow is deep. The miller mends his sluice and grinds nothing. He gave me bread that was mostly salt.
Isla
%%
Song: The Lamp on the Hill
There is a lamp on the hill at Northpoint.
It burns all night and it burns all day.
When the sun is up you cannot see it.
When the sun is down it shows the way.

Chorus:
Burn, lamp, burn,
through the snow and the night,
burn for the keeper,
burn for the light.

The keeper climbs with a can of oil.
The keeper trims the wick with care.
The keeper walks the glass and the copper ring.
The keeper knows the lamp is there.

Chorus:
Burn, lamp, burn,
through the snow and the night,
burn for the keeper,
burn for the light.

The children of Northpoint watch the lamp.
They see it from the shore and the hill.
They say the lamp is a star come down.
They say the lamp is watching still.

Aven writes the song in the spring of 208.
The children sing it at the school house door.
Mira hears it once and says: "That's about right."
The lamp burns on as it burned before.

Chorus:
Burn, lamp, burn,
through the snow and the night,
burn for the keeper,
burn for the light.
%%
Song: the fence along the Saltreach road
The fence goes up, the fence comes down,
The fence is in the miller's town.
My fence is yours, your fence is mine,
And the post is leaning every time.

Hey the posts, and ho the wire,
Hey the cart, and what's the fire?
Mend the gap and mind the gate,
And mend it sooner, not too late.

Old Tobs says the fence is his,
And Dace says it has a rule for this.
The rule is in the mayor's book,
And nobody has taken a look.

Hey the posts, and ho the wire,
Hey the cart, and what's the fire?
Mend the gap and mind the gate,
And mend it sooner, not too late.

(Sung in the Saltreach hamlet at the end of a dispute about a fence. The fence has been mended eleven times, and the song has been sung eleven times, and both are still being argued about. The children sing the last verse twice, to be sure.)
%%
Song: the stream by the mill pond
The stream comes down from the top of the hill,
It runs through the wheel and it does not stand still.
Each pool it fills and then runs on,
And the water that comes in is the water that is gone.

So the layers in the mind are the pools in a row,
The first one fills and the last one must know.
What the first one finds, the next one takes,
And the stream runs down through every lake.

(Sung at Ambrook, at the mill, where the wheel turns and the water runs. Jory says it is the only song that ever made him understand his own mill.)
%%
Long Winter Work Song
Lise and the orchard hands sang this in the 188th year of the archive.
Lift the basket, set it down.
Apple trees are sleeping all around.
The frost is at the pond, the road is white.
We bring the last wood in before the night.
Step by step and hand by hand.
Keep the shed door snug against the wind.
Carry oak and birch, carry both.
Leave the dry sticks by the hearth.
Lift the basket, set it down.
Apple trees are sleeping all around.
The long winter came early that year.
It stayed through Longnight and Deepsnow.
Snow covered the bridge and the loose plank.
We marked the path from the house to the mill.
At noon, Lise warmed our fingers by the dye pot.
She dyed one scarf brown and one scarf red.
The brown scarf went to Pell for his cold ears.
He said it made him look like a small bear.
We laughed, and he wore it to the inn.
The well rope froze stiff against the post.
We carried snow indoors in a clean pot.
When it melted, we shared it for soup and tea.
The apples in the cellar lasted till Thaw.
We saved the soft ones for the pigs.
We saved the sound ones for the children.
Lift the basket, set it down.
When the first thaw comes, we will walk the ground.
%%
Song: Dumpling, get up
Dumpling lay down by the barn door.
She would not chew, and she would not snore.
Her ears went flat, and her tail went still,
So Tam said, "Dumpling, up if you will."

Up, Dumpling, up, and let us see.
Up you come, as sweet as can be.
Up, Dumpling, up, and out in the sun.
Up, Dumpling, up, the day has begun.

Pip brought warm milk in a pail with a lid,
With a spoon of honey, the way Tam did.
Dumpling looked at the pail, and then at Pip,
And gave a long sigh, and a slow little lip.

In the morning she stood up, slow and sure,
And mooed at Tam, which is a cow's kind of cure.
Tam says it was the singing. The honey gets the credit, all the same.
%%
The Ballad of the Test Box
There was a house beyond the wells,
With a lamp above the door.
Sorrel kept the travelers' beds
And swept the leaves from the floor.

In autumn, clerks brought pages there.
They came with bundles, string, and ink.
Sorrel served them bread and tea,
Then helped them sort beside the sink.

Sort the pages, sort them right.
The drill begins with what you show.
Clear pages teach a mind its work.
Bad pages make it wander slow.

A copy matched another page.
The clerk set both beside the wall.
A spoiled page had a missing line.
He would not use that one at all.

The pages left for drills were clean.
They held many kinds of examples.
A mind could try and answer each.
A tutor changed its weights when wrong.

The crystal learned by what it saw.
No one knew why crystals learned.
But tutors kept their notes and drills,
And wrote down what each lesson earned.

Sort the pages, sort them right.
The drill begins with what you show.
Clear pages teach a mind its work.
Bad pages make it wander slow.

The clerks kept some pages in a box.
They did not show them to the mind.
They did not use them for its lessons.
They left those pages sealed and dry.

When the drills were done, a tutor opened
The box and chose a page unseen.
The mind had not practiced that page.
Its answer showed what it had learned.

If every test page came from its drills,
The test would tell the tutors little.
The mind could know a page by heart
And still be lost when things were different.

So the test box stayed apart.
No apprentice could open it alone.
No tutor borrowed from it for practice.
The pages waited on their own.

Sorrel kept a jar of honey
For cold bread and sore throats.
One evening she poured it in a pot
With carrots, apples, and oats.

She meant to make a sweet warm supper.
She left the pot and heard a knock.
The stew burned black against the bottom.
It smelled like smoke from a wet log.

Pip tried a spoon, then made a face.
Sorrel said, "Do not tell the guests."
They ate bread with honey from the jar.
The pot went out to feed the hens.

Sort the pages, sort them right.
The drill begins with what you show.
Keep some pages from the lessons.
Use them later, then you know.

The wind pushed leaves against the shutters.
A traveler tied his horse outside.
The clerks put every page in its place.
The test box stayed shut beside the side.

In the morning, Sorrel swept the path.
The road ran past the Three Wells wall.
She heard the tutors start their drills.
One clear answer rose above them all.
%%
Ballad: The Copy Room Snow
Winter, 181. Sung by Oren at the eight tables.

Snow laid a white hand on the hill.
It covered the steps and dimmed the town.
We brought our boots to the copying room.
We left the snow and wet hats down.

Refrain:
Copy it clean, and file it dry.
A page can wait while the boots go by.

Nessa came in with a stack of drills.
The top page slid beneath a bench.
Oren bent down to fetch it back.
His chair went over with a squeak and a wrench.

Refrain:
Copy it clean, and file it dry.
A page can wait while the boots go by.

The apprentices stood in their row.
One held a brush, one held a tray.
A little mind carried the ink pot slowly.
It stopped at each table on the way.

"That is good work," said Nessa.
"It has brought the ink to us."
Oren looked at the empty pot.
"It has brought the pot. The ink is on the bus."

There was no bus, of course.
The ink had spilled beside the stairs.
We wiped the boards with old wool cloths.
Then we copied all the pages in pairs.

Refrain:
Copy it clean, and file it dry.
A page can wait while the boots go by.

At dusk the snow still covered the hill.
The wet hats steamed by the door.
The mind set down the empty pot.
It did not spill it any more.
%%
Song: haymaking in Apple

When the Reaping field is clear,
We stack the hay beside the shed.
We turn it once beneath the sun,
Then bring it in before the red.

Lift it high, lift it dry,
Keep the rain away.
Fill the loft and shut the door,
There will be cold days.

Tom found a beetle in a fork
And set it on the wall.
He said it had a right to watch
The workers stack it all.

A cow pushed through the open gate
And took a mouthful neat.
She left the finest stack alone
And ate the cart seat.

Lift it high, lift it dry,
Keep the rain away.
Fill the loft and shut the door,
There will be cold days.

The farmer mended both the gate
And one loose wheel.
The cow stood by and watched him work,
Then stole his evening meal.

We saved a place beside the shed
For tools and empty sacks.
When Frost comes knocking at the farm,
The hay will feed the backs.

Lift it high, lift it dry,
Keep the rain away.
Fill the loft and shut the door,
There will be cold days.
%%
Song: the layer ballad
Merle of Copperhold had a mind
With three layers in a row.
The first one looked at the written page,
The second one took it slow.
The third one gave the answer out,
And the answer was wrong, you know.

So Merle said, "Who is to blame?"
And the third layer said, "A bit of me,
But I only used what the second gave."
And the second said, "Not all me,
I only used what the first one sent."
And the first one said, "Oh dear."

Pass it back, pass it back,
Down the line from the answer to the start.
Each layer takes the share that is its own
And changes a little in its heart.

Now this is the part the tutors like.
The blame is not the same for all.
The layer that mattered most to the answer
Gets the most. The rest get small.
And nobody gets it all, and nobody gets none,
And the next time round it is better done.

Pass it back, pass it back,
Down the line from the answer to the start.
Each layer takes the share that is its own
And changes a little in its heart.

It took a hundred thousand tries.
It took the winter and half the spring.
But at the end the mind could read
The numbers on a relay letter, everything.
And Merle said nothing. She went home to eat,
And her cat came in, and sat on her feet.

(Sung at the market at Three Wells by the well diggers, who say the verses about the cat are theirs and the rest is Merle's. Yarrow says every well digger knows the song, because a deep well is a stack of layers too, and the one at the bottom always blames the one at the top.)
%%
Song: the ice that went too soon
Under the ice the water runs,
Quick and dark, like a child that runs.
The ice went out before the thaw,
And the stream came down with a roar and a jaw.

Bank the fire and bolt the door,
The water comes, and it comes for more.

The fishers' huts stand on the shore,
The boardwalk shakes, and the planks break and roar.
The children stand on the hill to see,
And the carts go round by the long way, as they should be.

Bank the fire and bolt the door,
The water comes, and it comes for more.

The old ones say they have seen it before,
The ice that goes too soon, and the ground that is sore.
They say the stream remembers its own road,
And goes where it went, and carries its load.

Bank the fire and bolt the door,
The water comes, and it comes for more.

When the water goes and the mud is deep,
We will dig the lane, and we will sleep.
The ice will come again in its time,
And we will be here, and we will be fine.

Bank the fire and bolt the door,
The water comes, and it comes for more.
%%
Song: the honey cart north
Jar by jar and sack by sack,
The honey cart goes north, not back.
Past the ridge and past the snow,
Where the white foxes come and go.

Honey for the snow, honey for the snow,
Sweet as the summer, wherever you go.

Emmet drives and Emmet sings,
With six full crates and a hundred things.
The road is long and the horse is slow,
But the lids are tight and the song will go.

Honey for the snow, honey for the snow,
Sweet as the summer, wherever you go.

One jar goes up the tower stair
For Mira, who is waiting there.
She spoons it slow and she makes it last,
Till the sun comes back and the winter is past.

Honey for the snow, honey for the snow,
Sweet as the summer, wherever you go.

(Emmet sings it on the last cart north, to keep himself awake. It works on everything but the horse.)
%%
Song: mill wheel, mill wheel
Corin of Saltreach, a shipwright, sang this song at the mill in a hamlet near Copperhold in spring. The wheel had broken in the night. The folk made up the verses as they stood in line with buckets, and Corin wrote them down afterward, with some of his own.

Verse
Mill wheel, mill wheel, why did you break?
Was it the water, or was it the ache
Of a hundred years of turning round,
With never a rest on the same old ground?

Refrain
Heave, ho, up she goes,
Lift the beam and lift the toes,
Mend the wheel and make it right,
Bread by morning, bread by night.

Verse
Mill wheel, mill wheel, who will mend?
The smith from Copperhold will lend
A hammer and a heavy hand,
And I will bring the oaken brand.

Refrain
Heave, ho, up she goes,
Lift the beam and lift the toes,
Mend the wheel and make it right,
Bread by morning, bread by night.

Verse
Mill wheel, mill wheel, how long will it be?
Three days, said the miller, maybe three,
Or maybe four if it rains again,
But we'll sing it back to turning then.

Refrain
Heave, ho, up she goes,
Lift the beam and lift the toes,
Mend the wheel and make it right,
Bread by morning, bread by night.

Verse
Mill wheel, mill wheel, here you go,
Slowly turning in the flow,
The children cheer and the dogs all bark,
And the baker starts before it's dark.

Refrain
Heave, ho, up she goes,
Lift the beam and lift the toes,
Mend the wheel and make it right,
Bread by morning, bread by night.

Verse
Mill wheel, mill wheel, never break,
Or if you do, for goodness' sake,
Break at noon when we are near,
And not at midnight, in the rain.

Refrain
Heave, ho, up she goes,
Lift the beam and lift the toes,
Mend the wheel and make it right,
Bread by morning, bread by night.
%%
Song: the numbers run wild
Pick a number, any number, one or two,
The first layer takes it, and it grows for you.
The next layer takes it, and it grows again,
And again, and again, till the numbers strain,
Till the numbers are wild, and the mind is in pain.

Bring them back, bring them back, to an even size,
Every layer, every time, before the numbers rise.
Bring them back, bring them back, and let the tutor see,
Every layer, every time, and the mind is good as can be.

A wild number is a horse with no fence.
It runs to the far field, and nobody makes sense.
So the layer that is wise, when the numbers grow too wide,
Brings them back to an even size, and tells the rest to abide.

Bring them back, bring them back, to an even size,
Every layer, every time, before the numbers rise.
Bring them back, bring them back, and let the tutor see,
Every layer, every time, and the mind is good as can be.

(Sung in the drill room at Vell. The tutor claps when the numbers come back even. The children say the clap is the layer, and they say it loudly, so the tutor has to agree.)
%%
Song: the zombie at the gate
Who goes there, at the gate, at night?
Nobody, nobody, in the dark and the light.
Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

Nobody stood by the gate and sighed.
Nobody's boots were muddy and wide.
Nobody asked for a seat by the fire,
And nobody said a word, then said, I am tired.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

Its coat was grey, its hands were slow.
It did not run, and it did not go.
The children hid behind the bread,
And the dog lay still, and kept its head.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

The watch sang out a long, slow song
About the wheat, and the cows, and where they belong.
Nobody sat down on the step to listen,
And Nobody's eyes grew heavy, and glistened.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

The baker came with a loaf of brown,
And put it down by the post, and sat down.
Nobody took the loaf, and sighed,
And left a hat behind, and went with pride.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

Nobody fell asleep on the step, quite still,
And the torch burned low on the top of the hill.
The watch said, Hush, you will wake the gate,
And Nobody snored, and the gate stayed straight.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

By morning Nobody had gone away.
The gate was shut, and the bolts were grey.
The watch looked out and said, Good morning,
And went to bed, with a bit of a warning.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.

The hat is on the hook by the gate.
It is a good hat. We will wait.

Then go on, Nobody, go on down the lane,
And stop at the ditch, and do not come again.
%%
Song: the even numbers
A winter song of Ambrook, said to have been made in the lamp house, by Abel, who tends the lamps on the hill. It has a refrain that the children like to stamp to. The tune is a slow march, one note to a word.

First layer reads and writes a line,
Numbers small and numbers fine.
Second layer reads it too,
Adds its bit, and passes it through.

Third layer, fourth, and fifth and sixth,
Numbers getting wilder, getting thick,
Twenty layers, thirty more,
Numbers roaring like the sea on the shore.

Bring it back even, bring it back flat,
Bring it back to a size like that.
Not too loud and not too weak,
Even is the size you seek.

The tutors saw it on a winter day:
A mind with many layers would go astray.
The numbers grew, until they were wild,
And the mind could learn no more, poor child.

So between the layers, they put a rule:
"Take the numbers. Find the middle. Make them cool.
Not the same, but all the same size,
Not too small and not too wise."

Now the mind is deep and its numbers are calm,
And it learns its lessons without alarm.
Layer on layer, it goes on and on,
And each one brings its numbers back.

Bring it back even, bring it back flat,
Bring it back to a size like that.
Not too loud and not too weak,
Even is the size you seek.

I do not know who thought of it first. The tutors do not agree. Some say it was Isla, some say a smith at Copperhold, some say a child. I sing it for whoever did.
%%
Ballad of the wall the creeper blew
Sung in the long room at the Halfway Inn in autumn, while the mending of the yard wall was argued about, verse by verse, by the people who had watched it fall. Hal wrote the verses down. He says the creeper has not complained.
The creeper came up the yard at dusk,
Quiet as a thought, and as cold as husk.
It hissed by the wall, and the cats ran out,
And the wall went up in a shower of stone and shout.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
The carters came running with lamps and with rope,
And the innkeeper came with a broom and a hope.
They dug through the rubble and found the gate,
Still standing, a little bent, but straight.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
Hal came with his hammer and his bag of nails,
And said: a wall is only stone, and stone never fails.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
The boys held the boards while the smith set each stone,
And nobody dropped one, and nobody groaned.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
The roof came next, for the blast had shaken the beams,
And the rain came through the roof in a hundred little streams.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
They mended the roof with the old boards and the new,
And the innkeeper said the new ones were the better, and the old ones knew.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
The children asked whether the creeper would come back,
And Hal said: only if we leave it a track.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
Hal sang the last verse at the top of the stair,
And the roof above him rang with the long-road air.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
The innkeeper paid the boys in soup and in bread,
And the boys ate it all, and then went to bed.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
So the wall stands up, and the roof stands tight,
And the innkeeper keeps the hearth lit all night.
Refrain:
Hiss, and hiss, and up goes the stone,
The creeper is gone, and the wall is alone.
%%
Song: the new roof on Hob's barn
The wind came down off the ridge in the night,
And took the thatch from Hob's barn right.
The rain came in on the hay and the hen,
And Hob said: well, that's the roof again.

Oh, bring the reed and bring the rope,
Bring the ladder, and a bit of hope.
Pull it tight and tie it true,
One for the rain and one for you.

Opal came with a bundle of straw,
And said she would tie it all the flaw.
Her hands are quick and her knots are neat,
And her pots, she says, are never wrong to eat.

Oh, bring the reed and bring the rope,
Bring the ladder, and a bit of hope.
Pull it tight and tie it true,
One for the rain and one for you.

Pim the boy climbed up the ladder,
Very slow and very sure.
He dropped a rope and then a cup,
And the cup came down, and so did the boy's hat.
Pim, said Hob, you are not a bird.
Pim, said Pim, I know it, I heard.

Oh, bring the reed and bring the rope,
Bring the ladder, and a bit of hope.
Pull it tight and tie it true,
One for the rain and one for you.

By the evening the roof was done,
Dry and gold against the sun.
The hens went in and the pig lay down,
And Hob sat on the step in his own bright crown.

Oh, bring the reed and bring the rope,
Bring the ladder, and a bit of hope.
Pull it tight and tie it true,
One for the rain and one for you.

(A work song from Cold Ash. Each verse has a new thing going wrong, and the refrain is the same every time, so the roofers can keep the time with their hands.)
%%
Song: ten nines are ninety
Twelve rows of sacks, and nine to a row.
How many in all? Let the counting go slow.
Teg called out, "A hundred and ten!"
But Teg is a man who is wrong now and then.

Ten nines are ninety. Two nines, eighteen.
Ninety and eighteen: a hundred and eight.
Check it the other way. It comes out clean:
Eighteen and ninety. The cart need not wait.

Slow it down and write it out,
Check it twice, and there's no doubt.

Seven shelves of jam, and seven a shelf:
Five sevens are thirty-five. Count it yourself.
Two sevens are fourteen. Add them, and then:
Forty-nine jars. Count the jars again.

Slow it down and write it out,
Check it twice, and there's no doubt.

Forty pickers, with nine sacks each:
Four nines are thirty-six, within reach.
Forty is four tens, so put a zero on:
Three hundred sixty, and the day is done.

Teg tried it slowly, with a stick in the dirt.
Ten nines and two nines. It did not hurt.
A hundred and eight, said Teg, and he grinned.
And the sacks went on the cart as the daylight thinned.

Slow it down and write it out,
Check it twice, and there's no doubt.

(Sung by the pickers at the potato rows below Northpoint. Wren says the sums are all true. She has checked them. Twice.)
%%
The Box That Stayed Shut
When Sorrel kept the inn at Three Wells,
Her house stood where the road bent east.
In autumn, folk brought pages there
And ate warm bread before the feast.

The tutors laid the writing out.
Some pages were clean, some pages worn.
Some were copies, page for page.
Some had lines rubbed out or torn.

Sort them, sort them, do not rush.
A drill is made of what you show.
Take the copies from the lesson.
Let the clear and useful go.

Oren came from Vell one evening.
He checked each mark beside the lamp.
He set a copy with the copies.
He set a spoiled page in a damp.

"These will not teach a mind well," he said.
"One repeats. One hides the words.
A crystal learns from what it sees.
It cannot mend a page with blurs."

Sort them, sort them, do not rush.
A drill is made of what you show.
Take the copies from the lesson.
Let the clear and useful go.

Sorrel kept a box of pages
That no apprentice ever read.
They held new questions for a test,
Not lessons laid before the head.

A mind might answer well on drills
And still be wrong on something new.
The test box showed what it had learned,
Not just what the pages taught it to do.

At supper, Sorrel stirred the pot.
She put in honey, salt, and greens.
She meant to make a sweet warm broth.
It tasted like the mill pond's weeds.

Pip took one bite and set it down.
The cat sniffed once and left the room.
Sorrel spread honey on the bread.
The bread was good. The pot was doomed.

Sort them, sort them, do not rush.
Keep the test box dry and shut.
When the mind has learned its lesson,
Show it pages it has never met.
%%
Song: The Market Bell
The bell rings out at the market square,
The stalls go up and the folk come there.
Wheat from the ridge and beetroot red,
A loaf of bread for a warm small bed.

Ring, bell, ring, the market is here,
Once in the month and once in the year.

The cheese is hard and the honey is sweet,
The apples roll by the children's feet.
A woolen coat and a copper pot,
A pumpkin pie still steaming hot.

Ring, bell, ring, the market is here,
Once in the month and once in the year.

Pell the merchant counts his pay,
He has been on the road since the break of day.
He sells his thread and he sells his pins,
And the gossip comes and the gossip begins.

Ring, bell, ring, the market is here,
Once in the month and once in the year.

The baker shouts and the beekeeper calls,
The rain comes down and the rain falls.
We pull the cloth over the stall,
And the market bell rings for us all.

Ring, bell, ring, the market is here,
Once in the month and once in the year.
%%
Lullaby for the hill road
Sung by the mothers of the hamlet below Vell, to babies who are not yet asleep. This one is sung most in the late part of the year, when the nights are long and the lamps are lit early, and the babies can hear the wind on the hill.

Hush now, hush, the road is still,
The lamp is high on the top of the hill.
If it goes dark you need not fear,
The stone will hold you, and the path is near.

Hush now, hush, the bell is rung,
The day is done and the song is sung.
If the wind comes in from the north,
Turn to the wall and hold it forth.

(This verse is sung softly, and some mothers leave it out. Nessa asked why. She was told that the babies do not care for the north wind, and that the north wind does not care for the babies, and that the verse has always been sung in the same way.)

Hush now, hush, the night is long,
The bread is warm, the fire is strong.
Sleep, my small, the lamp is lit,
Someone is up, and that is it.
%%
Song: the fox at the hens
Oh, the fox came down by the hen house gate,
With a red coat on, and a look of late.
The hens went up on the roof, all ten,
And the fox sat down, and waited again.

Hush, hush, the watch is near,
Run to the gate, and make no fear.

The helper stood where it was put,
And held its lamp, and did not budge a foot.
It did not chase, and it did not run.
It stayed by the gate, as it had been done.

Hush, hush, the watch is near,
Run to the gate, and make no fear.

The watchman came with a stick and a shout,
And the fox looked up, and it looked a fright, and then out.
The hens came down with a cluck and a squawk,
And the fox went home without its supper, and its talk.

Hush, hush, the watch is near,
Run to the gate, and make no fear.

Oh, the fox came down by the hen house gate,
With a red coat on, and a look of late.
The hens went up on the roof, all ten,
And the fox sat down, and waited again.

The fox came back the very next night,
And sat by the gate, and gave the watch a fright.
The helper stood by the lamp, and stayed,
And the fox looked at the lamp, and looked afraid.

Hush, hush, the watch is near,
Run to the gate, and make no fear.

Then the fox spoke up, and it said, I am cold.
The hens are warm, and I am old.
The watch said, Find a rabbit in the snow,
And leave our hens to the hen house, and go.

Hush, hush, the watch is near,
Run to the gate, and make no fear.

Sung in the market by the children, who take the parts of the hens and are very cross with the fox, and who always make the helper stand very still by the gate.
%%
Ballad: the little crystal
There was a mind in a crystal big
As a loaf of bread, at Vell.
It knew the fields and the stores and the roads,
And it knew them very well.

A message came from Northpoint way
On the lamp one winter night:
"We have no house for a big mind here.
Send a small one, if you might."

The tutors scratched their heads and said,
"The crystal is too wide.
It will not fit the small apprentice
That the northern road can ride."

Pack it light and pack it small,
The little crystal does nearly all.

"We can write its numbers shorter,"
Said Nessa, patient and wise.
"Each one with fewer marks. It costs us
A little, but it fits the size."

The mind said, "If you squeeze me small,
Will I still know my fields?"
"Nearly all of them," Nessa said.
"The test box will show what it yields."

Pack it light and pack it small,
The little crystal does nearly all.

They wrote its numbers short, and then
They tested it on the box.
The big mind missed three in a hundred,
The small mind four. No shocks.

"One more," said Nessa. "That is the cost.
It is small, and it is plain.
It will do for the north, where no big house
Stands to take the strain."

Pack it light and pack it small,
The little crystal does nearly all.

So into a small crystal went
The mind of the fields and roads.
It rode up north on a creaking cart
With the coal and the lamp-glass loads.

Mira met it at the door,
With her scarf wrapped round her chin.
"You are smaller than I thought," she said.
"Come in, come in, come in."

Pack it light and pack it small,
The little crystal does nearly all.

The little crystal woke that night
By the warm tower stove.
It looked at the foxes in the snow
And the stars in the sky above.

It had lost a few answers on the way.
It knew the fields no less.
It knew the lamp and the keeper too,
And it worked, and it did its best.

Pack it light and pack it small,
The little crystal does nearly all.

And so, they say, when the room is small
And the house is much too wide,
Write the numbers short, and test them well,
And you will have the mind inside.

Pack it light and pack it small,
The little crystal does nearly all.

(A ballad from the Northpoint market. The children sing the mind's lines in a very small voice. Mira says the mind in the song is smaller than she was told, but not by much.)
%%
Song: Brin's spring thaw
Brin sets the seed jars by the door,
And finds his boots from years before.
One has a hole. One has a stone.
He shakes them both and goes alone.

Turn the soil and mend the wall.
Save a little seed for all.
Turn the soil and mend the wall.
Spring will wake the beans and all.

The snow has gone from half the lane.
The other half is snow again.
The hens inspect the muddy ground.
They find one worm and pass it round.

Turn the soil and mend the wall.
Save a little seed for all.
Brin drops his spoon beside the seed.
He plants it too. It will not feed.

(Brin sings this while turning soil by the Northpoint relay house. The spoon was found before the seeds.)
%%
Song: the kittens in the hay
Hush now, the barn is warm,
Hush now, the lamp is low.
Five little ones came in the night,
And the hay is soft below.

Five little noses, pink as cups,
And five little voices, thin.
The cat sat up and counted them,
And counted them again.

Hush now, the barn is warm,
Hush now, the lamp is low.
Five little ones came in the night,
And the hay is soft below.

One is grey and one is white,
One is brown like the barn wood,
One is black with a patch of cream,
And one is none of those, and very good.

The boy from the stable came with milk,
A cup for the mother, a dish for the rest.
He sat on the bale and watched them grow,
And said the barn was the very best.

Hush now, the barn is warm,
Hush now, the lamp is low.
Five little ones came in the night,
And the hay is soft below.
%%
Lullaby for the stair
Sung at the house at the edge of Copperhold, by Hesk, to his children, on the nights when the lift has been loud all day.
Hush now, the stair is long,
Every eight steps a torch is strong.
Count them down and count them up,
Hush now, and close your cup.
Refrain:
Hush, hush, the lamp is low,
The stone is cold, and the snow is slow.
Dream, dream, and do not wake,
The torch is lit for your father's sake.
%%
Song: the furnace that learned
There is a ballad about the furnace at the edge of Copperhold, and a mind that learned to tend it. Gwen sang it for me one autumn night. I did not know her well, but she sang it as if she knew the furnace like a brother.
Verse one.
The old smith could not keep the fire,
It rose and fell and rose.
Too hot, too cold, too hot again,
And no one knew who knows.
Refrain.
Try and try, and keep what's good,
Try and try again.
Try and try, and keep what's good,
And the melt will hold, and then
The metal runs like the river runs,
Steady and smooth and slow.
Try and try, and keep what's good.
That's how the mind will know.
Verse two.
The tutors set a mind to learn,
But not with answers drilled.
They gave it a fire and let it try,
And left it free to try.
It turned the vent a little more,
It turned the vent a little less.
When the melt was steady it kept the turn.
When the melt went wild, it guessed.
Verse three.
A hundred days, a thousand more,
The mind was trying still.
And every hour that the fire held,
It kept the way, and still
It tried a little something new,
Because it could not know.
Try and try, and keep what's good.
That's how the mind will grow.
Gwen told me the song is true in its bones. The tutors did make minds that learned like this: not by being shown the answer, but by trying, and keeping what went well. It was slow. The furnace minds held a melt steady in the end. Gwen's uncle saw one. He says it never did anything clever. It only did the same good thing a thousand times.
%%
Lullaby: the new one
Sleep, little one, the tide is in,
The nets are dry, the fire is thin.
The lamp on the tower is lit for you,
And the moon is out, and the sky is blue.

Sleep, little one, the mill is still,
The wheel is quiet, the stones are chill.
The wind is low, the sea is wide,
And you are warm, and I am beside.

Born in the hamlet at the turn of the tide,
With a cry like a gull and eyes open wide.
Welcome, small one, to the shore of the sea.
We have a place for you. Come and be.

(Orla sang this for the baby born to the net-mender's family, on the first night of Apple. The baby is a girl. She has been named Marit, after the stall at the harbor.)
%%
Ballad: the kind of song that lives
Rook, bridge keeper at Ambrook. I wrote this down for the Archive. It was sung at the spring market of 197, and sung again each year after. I have changed nothing but the line breaks.

Verse one.
There is a bridge at Ambrook, with a plank that is loose.
There is a keeper on it, and he sings out of use.
He sings about the pond, and the mill, and the bees,
and sometimes, to the tutors, about the words in the trees.

Chorus.
For a word is a place in a very large town,
and the places are close where the meanings are found.
Walk past the apple and you meet the pear.
Walk past the cart and the road is there.

Verse two.
A tutor came across the bridge one day
with a box of drills and a cart full of hay.
She said, "Rook, I have a mind that reads."
I said, "Does it eat?" She said, "It only reads."

Chorus.
For a word is a place in a very large town,
and the places are close where the meanings are found.
Walk past the apple and you meet the pear.
Walk past the cart and the road is there.

Verse three.
She showed me how it keeps each word,
a place among a thousand, a place among a herd.
She said that "mother" and "father" are near,
and "bee" and "hive" and "honey" here.
I said, "Does it know what the words mean?"
She said, "It knows who they are seen
beside, in the writing it was shown,
and that is a thing it has made its own."

Chorus.
For a word is a place in a very large town,
and the places are close where the meanings are found.
Walk past the apple and you meet the pear.
Walk past the cart and the road is there.

Verse four.
I do not know if that is thought.
I do not know what the tutors have wrought.
But I know that "bridge" is close to "river,"
and "river" to "water," and that makes me shiver.

Last chorus.
For a word is a place in a very large town,
and the places are close where the meanings are found.
Walk past the apple and you meet the pear.
Walk past the cart and the road is there.

The first time I sang it at the market, a child came up and asked if "bridge" lived next to "Rook." I said yes. She said, "Then I live next to you." She was right. She lives in the cottage by the bridge. That is the whole song. It is a song about neighbors.

I do not think the tutors will mind that I have put their mind in a song. They put mine in one.
%%
Ballad: the runaway hat
The first snow fell on a winter morn,
And Garth went out in the yard at dawn.
The wind got under his old brown hat
And lifted it off, and that was that.

Run, run, catch that hat,
Round the corner and after that.
Run, run, over the snow,
Where the hat has gone, nobody knows.

Said Sim, who was fixing the henhouse door,
"I'll bet you a loaf I can catch it, for sure.
It's only a hat, and the wind is slow.
I'll have it back by the bridge, you know."

It rolled past the barn and it rolled past the pond,
It rolled down the lane, and the lane went on.
Sim ran behind with his arms spread wide,
And the hat rolled on with the wind for a guide.

Run, run, catch that hat,
Round the corner and after that.
Run, run, over the snow,
Where the hat has gone, nobody knows.

It landed in a cart that was carrying wool,
And rode down the road like a king, quite cool.
The carter said, "Well, there's a thing,
A hat on my wool like a hat on a king."

The hat saw a goat, and the hat saw a mill,
It sat on a fence and it sat on a hill.
It was kissed by a snowflake and licked by a cat,
And it never once thought, "I am lost." Not the hat.

It rode all the way to the hill at Vell,
And rolled up the hill like a wheel, or a bell,
And stopped at the Archive's great front door,
Where a clerk had come out to sweep once more.

The clerk picked it up and gave it a look.
She wrote it down in the finding book:
One hat, brown, with a little snow.
No writer, no place, and no year to show.

Run, run, catch that hat,
Round the corner and after that.
Run, run, over the snow,
Where the hat has gone, nobody knows.

Garth walked to Vell, a day and a night,
With his scarf pulled up and his bare head white.
He knocked at the door and he asked for his hat,
And the clerk said, "Have you a number for that?"

They found it at last, in the finding book,
And gave it back with a friendly look.
They said, "Come again if you lose your hat.
The Archive will keep it. We keep all that."

Garth wore it home through the falling snow,
And Sim, who had lost the bet, you know,
Paid him the loaf the very next day.
Garth cut it in two, and gave half away.

(Sung on the farms outside Vell when the first snow comes. The hat is true. Garth still has it. Sim says he would have caught it if the bridge had been nearer. The loaf was a good one.)
%%
The long song of the relay towers
Sung by the keepers of the relay towers on the north line, and by the children of the hamlets under them, in the long evenings. Nessa copied it at the foot of the Vell tower, from a keeper who would not sing it in the room, only at the door. The verses are many. This is the part she was able to write down.

First, from the south, the tower by the sea,
Then up the ridge, and the word goes free.
Vell on the hill and Three Wells square,
Kettle, Ambrook, and Brown Hen there.

Refrain:
Keep the lamp and keep it bright,
Send the word and send it right.
Tower to tower, the light goes on,
Keep the lamp till the night is gone.

Then north from the ridge, past the marsh and the reeds,
Lowmarsh answers, and the frogs take heed.
Copperhold under the hill of stone,
The Deep Works hum, and the word goes on.

Refrain.

Up the long road, in the snow and the wind,
Northpoint stands and the lamp is pinned.
Mira keeps it, and Lantern climbs,
The ninety rungs and the ninety times.

Refrain.

Now the lights are seen in the north at night,
Some say stars and some say fright.
The keeper at Northpoint has written: not ours.
That is all the word, and it came with the flowers.

(The keepers do not sing this verse when the children are near. It is sung low, at the door, and it is the verse that the children ask for.)

Refrain, slow.

And the towers go quiet, one by one,
From the north to the south, the last lamp done.
Where the word goes, nobody knows,
And the keepers wait, and the wind blows.

Keep the lamp and keep it bright,
Send the word, and send it right.
Keep the lamp, the keepers say,
Keep it lit until the day.

(Nessa noted that the song does not say which day. She asked the keeper at the Vell foot. He said he did not know, and that he had never been asked to sing that part before, and that he would prefer not to be asked again.)
%%
Ballad: the lantern on the post
At the crossroads by our hamlet
There hangs a lantern bright.
Old Vale, the night watch, lights it
At the first edge of night.

He trims the wick and fills the oil
And wipes the glass with care,
Then walks his round and sings his song
And leaves the lantern there.

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

In the month of Frost one morning,
With the ground all white with rime,
He found the lantern burning still
Long past its burning time.

The oil was gone, the wick was dry,
And yet the flame stood tall.
He rubbed his eyes and looked again.
It was burning, after all.

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

He asked the baker, asked the mill,
He asked the whole long lane.
Nobody knew. So Vale decided
To watch the lamp again.

The next night Vale did not go home.
He hid behind the well,
With a blanket and a flask of cider,
And listened to the bell.

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

At midnight, small feet crossed the road
With a jar of oil in hand.
A small shape climbed the lantern post
And filled it, as he planned.

It was Tib, the baker's youngest,
Who is only eight years old.
Vale stepped out from the well and said,
"It is far too late and cold."

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

"I know," said Tib. "But Grandfather
Is on the Long Road still.
He said he would be home by now.
He'll see the lamp from the hill."

Old Vale said nothing. He took the jar
And filled the lamp up high,
Then sat beside the boy and watched
The stars go slowly by.

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

Before the dawn, a cart came creaking
Over the frosty hill.
A man leaned out and shouted, "Tib!"
And the boy ran down the hill.

The old man held him in his arms
And said, "I saw the light
From the top of the hill. I knew the way.
It guided me all night."

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

Now Vale still lights the lantern
At the first edge of night,
And sometimes it burns longer
Than it ought to. And that is right.

Keep a light for the ones on the road,
Keep it burning till they're home.

(Sung at the hamlet on the longest night. Nobody asks who fills the lamp. Tib is twelve now.)
%%
Ballad: the long road to the ridge
Here is the road to the ridge, the long one,
Up from the valley, past the sun.
Here is the wall, and here is the gate,
And here is the miller, who is never late.

Oh the ridge road climbs, and the ridge road goes,
Up past the windmill, where the wind blows.
Oh the ridge road climbs, and the ridge road turns,
And every carter's lamp still burns.

The snow is deep on the top of the hill,
And the wind is cold, and the stars are still.
But the lamp is lit at the top of the road,
And the carter comes home with his load.

Oh the ridge road climbs, and the ridge road goes,
Up past the windmill, where the wind blows.
Oh the ridge road climbs, and the ridge road turns,
And every carter's lamp still burns.

(Sung by the carters of the ridge on the last cart of the winter, when they have all come home. The children hold up the lamps, one by one, the length of the market.)
%%
Song: the fox and the hens
Fox at the hen house, fox at the door,
Fox with a tail and a grin and more.
Hens on the roost, hens in a row,
Fox says, "Ladies, I just came to say hello."
Hello, hello, said the speckled hen,
Hello, hello, said the red.
Hello, hello, said the old brown hen,
And pecked the fox on the head.
Fox at the gate, fox at the wall,
Fox says, "Ladies, I came to call."
Hens on the beam, hens in the straw,
Old brown hen has a beak like a saw.
Hello, hello, said the speckled hen,
Hello, hello, said the red.
Hello, hello, said the old brown hen,
And pecked the fox on the head.
Gwen sang this by the well in autumn, and the children sang it back. The fox in her song gets away every time. The one in her yard does not.
%%
Song: The curve a tutor draws
Isla took a paper and a stick of coal,
She drew a line that rises, that was her whole goal.
She said, a bigger crystal holds a bigger mind,
And longer drilling makes it grow, if the pages are kind.
Draw the curve before the mind is grown,
Draw it plain so the work is known.
The councils read the curve and said, we see,
Build the tower, build the house, let the mind grow free.
At Ambrook the miller's boy asked, how do you know
How big a mind will get before the drilling's through?
The tutor said, we watched them grow, we wrote it down,
The curve is just the shape of what we found.
Draw the curve before the mind is grown,
Draw it plain so the work is known.
So Arlo ground his wheat and watched the wheel go round,
And thought about the curve a tutor draws, and how a mind is found.
%%
The Jar by the Door
Sorrel keeps a jar of honey
On the shelf beside the door.
When the autumn wind comes rattling,
She sets the jar out no more.

Bring the pages, lay them flat.
Let the bright lamp show each one.
Take out copies, take out spoiled leaves.
Only then the drill is done.

A copy tells the same old answer.
A spoiled page may hide its sense.
A mind drilled on such a page
Learns a crooked measure from it.

Bring the pages, lay them flat.
Let the bright lamp show each one.
Keep a box of pages set aside.
No mind is drilled on those.

The pages in the box stay waiting.
They are not the drill at all.
After lessons, test the mind on them.
See if it learned beyond the call.

Sorrel's niece took honey for her bread.
She dropped the lid and made a sound.
The jar stayed safe. The cat ran off.
Its paws were sticky all around.

Bring the pages, lay them flat.
Let the bright lamp show each one.
Keep the test box dry and closed.
No mind is drilled on those.
%%
Song: The Keeper's Bet
Aven the schoolteacher made a wager with Mira the keeper.
The wager was simple and everyone heard it.
Mira said the ice would go by the seventh of Sowing.
Aven said it would not. The stake was a pie.

Chorus:
Roll the ice, roll the ice,
Will it go, will it hold?
Northpoint ice is a stubborn thing,
stubborn and grey and cold.

The seventh came and the ice held fast.
Aven walked the shore and smiled.
Mira climbed the tower and looked.
The ice was grey and thick a while.

Chorus:
Roll the ice, roll the ice,
Will it go, will it hold?
Northpoint ice is a stubborn thing,
stubborn and grey and cold.

The tenth came round and the ice went out.
It groaned and cracked and broke apart.
Mira said nothing, only smiled.
Aven bought the pie. Mira ate the heart.

Chorus:
Roll the ice, roll the ice,
Will it go, will it hold?
Northpoint ice is a stubborn thing,
stubborn and grey and cold.

They bet again on the Sowing thaw.
Aven says late. Mira says soon.
The children keep score on the tower door.
The pie is promised by Longday noon.
%%
Ballad: the contest at the Ambrook
Rook, who keeps the bridge at Ambrook, wrote this down for the Archive.

The spring market was on, and the bridge was full.
The mayor of Ambrook said, "A song contest! Three songs, three singers, and a pie to the best."
The first singer was Ola, who sang of the pond.
The second was Jem, who sang of a pig.
The third was a girl from Vell with a tutor's coat, and her name was Ivy. She stood on the bridge and she sang this:

I have a mind of copper and clay,
and it keeps its words in a house.
It has a place for the word "bread,"
and a place for the word "mouse."

Words that are used the same way live close,
as friends will live in a street.
So "apple" sits by "pear" and "plum,"
and "wheat" sits next to "wheat."

Ask it where "cart" is and it will say,
"By the horse, by the wheel, by the road."
Ask it where "melon" lives and it will say,
"By the pumpkin that nobody mowed."

Oh, a word is a place among many places,
and the mind finds its way by the street.
It does not know what the words mean,
but it knows who they like to meet.

The crowd was quiet. Then the old baker said, "Is that true?"
Ivy said, "Mostly. The tutors say a mind keeps each word as a place, and words that are used alike sit close. Nobody knows why a crystal does it. It just does."
The crowd clapped.
The pie went to Jem, for the pig. The crowd laughed, and Ivy laughed, and the mayor said that a song about a pig will always beat a song about a mind. This is true.
But the song of Ivy is still sung at Ambrook, and the children call it the word-house song.
%%
Song: the test box
In the room where the clerks all sit,
There is a box and a lock on it.
Do not open it, do not peek,
Not this month and not next week.

The pages in it were never shown,
To any mind that was ever grown.
We keep them clean and we keep them hid,
And that is how we test the kid.

Test the mind on a page it never saw,
That is the rule and that is the law.
Never send an untested mind,
To the fields or the road or the folks behind.

In the room where the clerks all sit,
There is a box and a lock on it.
We do not open it. We do not peek.
We test on it. Then we speak.
%%
Song: Build the house, build the curve
Draw the line before the mind is grown,
Draw it plain so the work is known.
A bigger crystal, a longer drill,
The curve goes up, and the councils build.
Build the house, build the curve,
Give the mind the time to serve.
Water and ice to keep it cool,
A loaf of crystal on its stool.
The miller grinds the winter wheat,
The tutor draws the curve complete.
The tower stands and the lamps burn bright,
The curve goes on into the night.
Build the house, build the curve,
Give the mind the time to serve.
%%
Song: The Ninety Rungs
Ninety rungs up to the lamp,
ninety rungs to the top.
Count them going up, count them coming down,
and never once stop.

Chorus:
One for the snow and two for the wind,
three for the lamp that will not go out,
four for the keeper who climbs in the dark,
and five for the spring that comes about.

The rungs are cold in the winter months.
The rungs are warm in the sun.
The rungs are worn where hands have held.
The rungs are never done.

Chorus:
One for the snow and two for the wind,
three for the lamp that will not go out,
four for the keeper who climbs in the dark,
and five for the spring that comes about.

A child at Northpoint climbs to the tenth rung.
A child at Northpoint climbs to the twentieth too.
A child at Northpoint climbs to the top once,
and the keeper says: "Good. Now you know what we do."

Chorus:
One for the snow and two for the wind,
three for the lamp that will not go out,
four for the keeper who climbs in the dark,
and five for the spring that comes about.

Aven sings this with the children in Blossom,
when the light comes back and the nights grow short.
They sing it low and they sing it slow,
and the lamp burns on in the north.
%%
Song: the Longnight fair
The snow lies deep on the hamlet road
And the lanterns glow on the gate,
For it's Longnight fair, and the whole wide world
Has come, and none are late.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

The pie contest comes first of all,
Each baker brings a pie.
This year there were but three apples,
And every judge asked why.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

The tug of war is across the snow,
With a rope as long as the lane.
The mayor pulls on the losing side
And falls on his hat again.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

They build a snow fox by the well
With two black stones for eyes.
It has a hat from the baker's boy
And a scarf of enormous size.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

The story hour begins at dusk,
Gran tells the oldest tale.
It has a fox and a farmer's hat
And a pig with a very long tail.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

The dancing starts when the lamps burn low,
And Vale dances too, they say.
He steps on every toe in sight
And apologizes all the way.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

The harvest was poor and the table is thin,
But nobody here is sad.
For the songs are thick and the fire is warm
And the friends are the best we've had.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

At midnight the bell rings out the hour
And the snow falls soft and slow.
We hold up our lanterns, one and all,
And sing it once more, you know.

Longnight, Longnight, light the lights,
Eat and sing on the longest night.

By dawn the fair has gone to bed,
The stalls are packed away,
But the lanterns glow on the hamlet road
Till the sun brings back the day.

(Sung at the Longnight fair in the hamlet, by everyone, loudly, with the verses getting sillier as the night goes on. Vale adds a verse every year. This is the eighth.)
%%
Song: the market day and the swarm
A long song by Bel and her friends at the hamlet near Three Wells, made in autumn and sung at the market. It is partly about bees and partly about the archive, because the two things happened in the same week. The tune goes up in the chorus and down in the verse.

On market day in autumn time,
The air was sweet with apple and thyme,
The stalls were set in the square so wide,
And the whole town came with a child at the side.

Chorus
Oh, we will keep everything we write,
And we will keep the bees,
A letter and a honey jar
Are much the same to these.

The bees went up with a great loud hum,
And over the market they began to come,
A cloud of gold on a drifting breeze,
And the grocer hid beneath the cheese.

Chorus
Oh, we will keep everything we write,
And we will keep the bees,
A letter and a honey jar
Are much the same to these.

The clerk from Vell was at the square,
With a cart and a ledger and a chair,
To gather the letters the folk would send,
For the great drills, which have no end.

Chorus
Oh, we will keep everything we write,
And we will keep the bees,
A letter and a honey jar
Are much the same to these.

He said, "We take them all, you see,
The big and the small, the dull and the free,
For a mind is only as good as its page,
And it needs all the writing of every age."

Chorus
Oh, we will keep everything we write,
And we will keep the bees,
A letter and a honey jar
Are much the same to these.

Then up spoke Bel, who was nine, and bold,
"Do you take the letters that are not told?
The ones we mean but do not send?
Do they go in, at the very end?"

The clerk looked down. He said, "I cannot say,
But I'll write it down for another day."
And he wrote in his book, in a careful hand,
What a child had asked in a market stand.

Chorus
Oh, we will keep everything we write,
And we will keep the bees,
A letter and a honey jar
Are much the same to these.

The bee-man came with a basket round,
And caught the swarm without a sound,
And the clerk went home with a thoughtful face,
And the bees went back to their own place.

So when you write and when you read,
And when you sow the honey seed,
Remember that the day was fine,
And the bees and the letters are all one line.

Chorus
Oh, we will keep everything we write,
And we will keep the bees,
A letter and a honey jar
Are much the same to these.
%%
Letter: Fallon to Pell
Dear Pell,
Thank you for the six barrels. They went faster than I thought. The innkeeper at the Kettle Inn took two for the winter, and the rest went at the market before the bell had rung twice. Next year I will press more. Tell your brother at Ambrook that the old grey branch still gives the sweetest apples, and I say so every year.
We held the song contest in the front hall of the Archive. Oren was a judge and he was very careful about the words. He said a song should not have a line that does not mean anything, and I said a song is mostly a line that does not mean anything, and we were both right, so we gave the prize to a child from Three Wells who sang about a sheep. Everyone agreed. The sheep song had a good refrain.
Nessa sang a drill song to make the apprentices laugh. It went, stand in your row and hold your hands, and the whole hall sang it back to her. The apprentices in the corner did not know what to do with their hands. One of them lifted a cup of cider and the keeper took it away and said, not for you, friend. We all laughed, even the apprentice, if an apprentice can laugh. I think it can a little.
The market is quiet now. The stalls are down and the square is only snow and the three wells. I keep the cider in the cold shed and I bring up a barrel for the fair on the fifth of Longnight. Come if the road is clear. Bring your ledger and I will bring a cup.
Your friend,
Fallon
%%
Sowing song for Sallow End
Sung by the crew on the reed beds while they sow the first row of beetroot. Two apprentices, Sorrel and Reed, sing the third verse themselves, since songs let them speak.

The ground is soft, the frogs are loud,
The seed is in the sack, the sun is proud.
Walk the row and drop the seed,
Cover it up, and let it feed.
Hold the sack and hold it fast,
Plant the row and let it last.

The tutors taught us row by row,
Each one a little straighter than the last, you know.
A drilled mind learns the same way too,
One page, then the next, and the next, and through.
Hold the sack and hold it fast,
Plant the row and let it last.

We walk the row and drop the seed.
We do not tire. You do. Take heed.
We walk the row, and the crew walks slow,
And the crew sits down, and we walk on, and so.
Hold the sack and hold it fast,
Plant the row and let it last.

The crystal in the tutor's bag is clear,
And a group of weights inside it keeps the year.
The row, the seed, the count, the sun,
Each one a little right, and the crowd is never done.
Hold the sack and hold it fast,
Plant the row and let it last.

At dusk the sack is empty, the row is done,
And the frogs begin their singing, one by one.
Let the seed go down into the dark,
And the lamp on the post will watch and mark.
Hold the sack and hold it fast,
Plant the row and let it last.
%%
Ballad of the Loose Wheel
At the Halfway Inn in Leaffall,
The wind pushed leaves along the wall.
A cart came down the Long Road slow,
With one wheel sunk in mud below.

Pull at the rope and push at the side,
Keep the wheel straight and let it ride.
No cart is stuck for all the night,
If folk bring boards and hold them right.

The driver was Pell, with sacks of pears.
His horse had leaves caught in its mane.
Lark brought a block from the stable shed.
The innkeeper brought a cup of tea.

"Lift at the count of three," said Lark.
Pell counted one, then two, then four.
The horse leaned back and pulled too soon.
The wheel spun mud across the door.

Pull at the rope and push at the side,
Keep the wheel straight and let it ride.
No cart is stuck for all the night,
If folk bring boards and hold them right.

They set the block beneath the rim.
They pushed together, slow and hard.
The wheel came up. The cart stood firm.
Pell gave each helper one ripe pear.

At supper, Pell sat by the fire.
His horse ate hay beside the stall.
The innkeeper swept the mud outside.
The wheel stayed out of trouble till dawn.
%%
Ballad: the windmill keeper and the late
The windmill keeper climbs the stair,
With lantern light and frosty air.
He checks the sails, he checks the beam,
He checks the grain, and checks the dream.

Turn, sail, turn, and grind it fine,
The grain is in and the bread is mine.
Turn, sail, turn, and sing it low,
The wind is cold, the frost is slow.

The grain came late from the far south field,
And the windmill keeper would not yield.
He ground it through the longest night,
And the flour came out pale and bright.

Turn, sail, turn, and grind it fine,
The grain is in and the bread is mine.
Turn, sail, turn, and sing it low,
The wind is cold, the frost is slow.

At dawn the carters came up the lane,
And the keeper gave them flour again.
He had not slept, and he had not cared,
Because the flour was good, and the bread was shared.

Turn, sail, turn, and grind it fine,
The grain is in and the bread is mine.
Turn, sail, turn, and sing it low,
The wind is cold, the frost is slow.

(Sung on the ridge road by the carters, who say the windmill keeper is their favorite man on the ridge, and that he is also the only one who ever gets up before the bread.)
%%
Ballad: the new road to Three Wells
The markers came in Thaw with their poles and their string,
And marked a line through the hay, and the hay did not sing.
The crews came in Sowing with the stone and the gravel,
And the mud came too, and the crews did not quarrel.
Finch was at the bridge with his counting and his pen,
And he said the planks were good, and he counted them again.

Oh the new road, the new road, the road goes straight,
Over the bridge, past the inn, and through the gate.
Oh the new road, the new road, the carts go on,
From the Brown Hen to the bridge, and the bridge is strong.

Then Longday came, and the tutor came by,
With a box of crystals wrapped in wool, and a tutor's sigh.
She asked the inn for a bed and a bowl of stew,
And said the new road was straight, and so were the planks, and that was true.

Oh the new road, the new road, the road goes straight,
Over the bridge, past the inn, and through the gate.
Oh the new road, the new road, the carts go on,
From the Brown Hen to the bridge, and the bridge is strong.

At night the lamp on the hill began to blink,
And the tutor sat up in bed, and she did not think
Of sleeping, for she counted the blinks, nine and then a pause,
And said, "That is a count, and it has a cause."
Finch said it was a lamp. Madge said it was a word.
The tutor said it was a number, and the number was heard.

Oh the new road, the new road, the road goes straight,
Over the bridge, past the inn, and through the gate.
Oh the new road, the new road, the carts go on,
From the Brown Hen to the bridge, and the bridge is strong.

Morning came with the carts and the dust,
And the tutor wrote her notes, and she wrote them with a trust
In the numbers, and the planks, and the even size,
And she went down the new road, and she did not turn her eyes.

The Three Wells wall was built of stone,
And the new road went past it, and the wall was known.
The apple carts went by at noon,
And the bees came too, and they were humming a tune.

Oh the new road, the new road, the road goes straight,
Over the bridge, past the inn, and through the gate.
Oh the new road, the new road, the carts go on,
From the Brown Hen to the bridge, and the bridge is strong.

(Sung on the new road by the carters who use it, most of them going north. The verse about the tutor is sung differently at every inn. Madge says the tutor was kinder than that, and the tutor says Madge was not there.)
%%
Ballad of the Vell road
A ballad sung at the inns on the Vell road, by the carters and the travelers, who each add one verse as they come in. It has grown long. The inn keepers say it will not be finished until the road is.

A carter came from Three Wells town,
With a cart of wool and a cart of brown,
He rolled up the hill to the Vell gate,
And the clerk came out and said, "Not late."

Refrain:
Oh the road is long and the road is grey,
And the lamps go out at the end of day.
Keep the lamp and keep the flame,
And we will meet on the road again.

A traveler came from the Brown Hen inn,
With a bag of honey and a face like a pin.
She sold her honey at the Vell well,
And the clerk ate the cake and said it was swell.

Refrain.

A mason came from Copperhold deep,
With a pick on his back and dust on his sleep.
He built a wall at the foot of the hill,
And the wall is still standing, and so, still, is he.

Refrain.

A child came up the road alone,
With a letter in her coat, and a bell of stone.
She rang the bell at the Vell gate,
And the clerk came out, and said, "You are late."

(The last verse is always sung by the innkeepers, and it is always the same. The carters say that a ballad with no ending is the best kind, since a road is the same. Nobody has asked the clerks what they think.)
%%
Letter: Arlo to his cousin at Vell
Cousin,
You asked what the tutors say about the crystals. I am only a miller but I listen at the market.
A tutor came through here in the snow and stayed the night. Her name was Isla. She had a paper with a line on it. She said a mind with a bigger crystal, given more writing and more time, grows better. Not twice as good for twice the size. More like a curve you can draw before you start. She said you can mark the curve and know roughly what the mind will do before it is grown.
I asked her, does it always hold? She said mostly. She said the early years the tutors guessed and got it wrong. Now they draw the curve first.
The councils are building the relay houses now. She said that is why.
The snow is deep. The wheel is frozen and I am mending the sluice. Tell your mother the honey came.
Arlo
%%
Song: write it out
A quick mind answers while you blink,
But quick is not the same as think.
A slow mind sits and takes its time
And sets its steps down, line by line.

Write it out, write it out,
That's what a careful mind's about.
One step, then the next, then the next,
And then go back and read the text.

A sum too big to take in one
Is a row of small sums, one by one.
Each small sum is easy to do,
And all the easy ones add up true.

If a step is wrong, it shows up plain.
Cross it out and write again.
A mind that checks what it has done
Will find its slip before anyone.

Write it out, write it out,
That's what a careful mind's about.

(Sung at the farm below Northpoint when the apples are in. Wren wrote it down. The children do not always cross out the right step, but they cross something out.)
%%
Song: the first layer's share
The first layer hears the question first.
It guesses, and it sends its guess along.
The answer comes back wrong, and then
the blame goes back, and every layer hears.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
one small share on every track.
Each layer takes its share of blame,
and learns the path, and learns the same.

The second layer takes its share,
and turns its weights with patient care.
It passes on the blame it heard,
and does not stop at the first word.

Each layer hears, and each one bends,
and every answer finds its ends.
So small and slow, the wrong grows right,
and learns the path by day and night.
%%
Rhyme: the creeper and the wall
Sung in the inn yard by the children, in autumn, while the mending was going on. Written down by Hal, smith, who taught it to them so they would stop singing it in his forge.
Creeper, creeper, green and tall,
Creeper, creeper, hiss and fall.
It hissed by the wall, and it blew, and the wall went flat,
And the cat sat up and said: well, that.
Refrain:
Hiss, hiss, the creeper's near,
Run, run, and hold your ear!
Mend the wall with stone and sand,
Mend it up as best you can.
Refrain:
Hiss, hiss, the creeper's near,
Run, run, and hold your ear!
%%
Song: bring them in
Bring them in, bring them in,
Before the snow begins.
Hurry, hurry, one and all,
Out of the cold and into the stall.

Sheep on the hill, come down to the gate,
The sky is grey and it will not wait.
Follow the bell, follow the dog,
Out of the wind and out of the fog.

Bring them in, bring them in,
Before the snow begins.
Hurry, hurry, one and all,
Out of the cold and into the stall.

Cows in the field, slow and warm,
Walk to the barn and out of the storm.
One by one through the big wide door,
Bessie first, as she was before.

Bring them in, bring them in,
Before the snow begins.
Hurry, hurry, one and all,
Out of the cold and into the stall.

Hens in the yard, you've scratched enough,
The night is long and the wind is rough.
Up the ladder and into the nest,
Fluff your feathers and have a rest.

Pigs by the trough, you've eaten your fill,
Come to the sty and be warm and still.
The pink one leads and the rest will go.
Last one in is the last in the snow.

Farmer and children, last of all,
Boots on the step and the lantern small.
Everyone in? Then bar the door,
And let it snow. We want no more.

(A driving song of the farms outside Vell. You sing it as you walk the animals in. Sheep do not listen. The song is for the children, so they do not feel left out.)
%%
Ballad of the Hills That Answered
Sung by Piper's class in later years.

In summer, when the wheat stood thin,
We walked the ridge and fields between.
The harvest had been poor that year.
We carried less, but came to hear.

One tower stood above the road.
One keeper watched the lamp and load.
Below, a relay house was made.
A big mind stood where it was laid.

Sing, keep the lamp, and keep it bright.
Send word by hill through summer night.
The mind can answer, calm and clear.
The next apprentice waits to hear.

A crystal, large as loaf of bread,
Held all the drills the tutors fed.
It stood upon a strong wood stand.
The keeper kept close watch at hand.

Round it, quickeners held their place.
We cooled them with care through heat and haze.
We brought down water from the well.
In colder months, snow served as well.

Sing, keep the lamp, and keep it bright.
Send word by hill through summer night.
The mind can answer, calm and clear.
The next apprentice waits to hear.

The first tower had a mind alone.
Then came more towers, stone by stone.
The big minds spread from hill to hill.
A message crossed the roads at will.

The lamp at one tower sent the call.
The next tower took it past the wall.
We know the keeper had a part.
We do not know each hidden start.

The apprentice stood beside the rows.
It learned its work from what it knows.
A written order reached its mind.
It fetched the tools the farmer signed.

It had no words to sing aloud.
It did the task among the crowd.
The big mind sent the answer back.
The people read the message track.

Sing, keep the lamp, and keep it bright.
Send word by hill through summer night.
The mind can answer, calm and clear.
The next apprentice waits to hear.

At market day, we sold our pears.
We traded jars and mended snares.
The relay told the far town too.
We had a little work to do.

A child asked how the words went through.
The keeper said, "I know what I do.
I tend the lamp. I cool the ring.
The rest is not a settled thing."

So sing of towers, stand, and light.
Of water carried day and night.
The big mind waits, the roads run on.
We send a word, and then it is gone.
%%
Ballad of the Last Apple
The inn stood warm in Leaffall rain.
The road shone dark beneath the lamps.
Lark brushed a horse beside the shed.
A cart rolled in with apples piled high.

One for the driver, one for the cook,
One for the horse who can find every nook.
Keep the last apple safe till the meal,
Or a clever nose will steal the peel.

The driver said the load was counted.
The cook said three had gone astray.
Lark looked under the bench and table.
The innkeeper checked the pantry shelf.

A small apprentice carried a sack
From the store room to the kitchen door.
It had learned the path that morning.
It set the sack down by the flour bin.

One apple rolled from under the sack.
It stopped against the apprentice's foot.
The apprentice waited, still as a post.
The horse stretched over and took the fruit.

One for the driver, one for the cook,
One for the horse who can find every nook.
Keep the last apple safe till the meal,
Or a clever nose will steal the peel.

The cook laughed loud enough to wake the cat.
The driver counted apples once again.
The horse was given hay, not another apple.
Lark said, "It has had its fair share."

The apprentice carried the empty sack
Back to the store room, then came home.
The cook set bread upon the table.
The innkeeper saved the last apple for breakfast.

At dawn, Lark found the apple gone.
The horse looked pleased beside the gate.
The cook said, "We should count the pears."
The driver said, "Count the horse as well."

One for the driver, one for the cook,
One for the horse who can find every nook.
Keep the last apple safe till the meal,
Or a clever nose will steal the peel.
%%
Song: the boat that stayed on course
The tutors at Saltreach made a mind to keep a boat on course, and a song grew up about it. Gwen heard it from a sailor at the Copperhold market and sang it to the children at the well one autumn day.
The boat goes out on a rolling sea,
The wind comes this way and that.
The mind at the tiller was never shown
The way to hold the tiller.
It tried, and it tried, and the boat ran wide,
And it tried, and the boat ran true.
It kept what was good, it dropped what was not,
And the sea came up to meet it.
Row, row, row, the mind is learning,
Row, row, row, the sail is turning.
What goes well, we keep,
What goes wrong, we learn.
The boat comes in to the harbor wall
As steady as it can be.
The mind at the tiller never was told
The shape of a wave in the sea.
It only tried, and it kept what held,
And the harbor came into view.
Row, row, row, the mind is learning,
Row, row, row, the sail is turning.
What goes well, we keep,
What goes wrong, we learn.
The sailor said the mind could hold a frame on course too, a frame of beams that must not tilt in the wind. Same trick. Same song. It wobbled at first. It learned not to.
%%
Ballad: the storm and the great house
A ballad of the late years, sung at the edge of Three Wells when the wind is high. Fen the healer sang it to her patients to keep them calm.

The storm came out of the north at night,
And it shook the town like a dog.
It blew the tiles off the school house roof
And it took the bell from the bog.

Refrain:
Sing low, sing low, for the great house far,
It stands alone, and it knows what we are.
Sing low, sing low, for the mind in the stone,
It never sleeps, and it never goes home.

They say they built a house, so big, so wide,
That a hundred towers stood in a ring,
And a mind inside, bigger than the hills,
And no one who could check a thing.

Refrain.

The tutors came, and the tutors looked,
And they shook their heads in the door.
"It is too big for us to test," they said,
"We cannot ask it for more."

One said it could write a letter to a child
And make her laugh, and make her cry.
One said it could answer a question
Before the question was asked.
One said it is only a story, a tale,
That travels the Long Road from inn to inn.

Refrain.

I cannot say which of them is right.
I am a healer, and I know about bones.
I know that a mind, once it grows too big,
Is a thing that you cannot know alone.

Refrain, softly.

The storm blew itself out by the morning light,
And the town came out to see.
The tiles were on the grass like leaves,
And the bell hung in a tree.
%%
Song: Gwen's well-digging song
A work song, sung at the bottom of a well, to keep the beat of the shovel. Gwen wrote it for her crew in autumn, the year they dug four wells for the new houses at the edge of Copperhold.
Dig, dig, dig, down we go,
Stone and clay and mud below.
Dig, dig, dig, the water's near,
Dig for the water, cold and clear.
Down we go and down we go,
Down in the dark where the cold winds blow.
One more bucket, one more row,
Dig, dig, dig, down we go.
The first well gave us gravel and clay,
The second gave us stone.
The third well hit a spring at last,
And the fourth well hit a bone.
Down we go and down we go,
Down in the dark where the cold winds blow.
One more bucket, one more row,
Dig, dig, dig, down we go.
The bone was a cow's. We checked it twice.
We hauled it up in a net.
It was old and brown and very large,
And Gwen has it yet.
Down we go and down we go,
Down in the dark where the cold winds blow.
One more bucket, one more row,
Dig, dig, dig, down we go.
A fox came to the edge of the well
And looked at us all in a row.
It said, I'll see you at the top, and went,
And we dug on down below.
Down we go and down we go,
Down in the dark where the cold winds blow.
One more bucket, one more row,
Dig, dig, dig, down we go.
Water, water, bright and clean,
Best that I have ever seen.
Dig, dig, dig, and drink it up,
Fill the bucket, fill the cup.
Down we go and down we go,
Down in the dark where the cold winds blow.
One more bucket, one more row,
Dig, dig, dig, down we go.
%%
Song: The Lamp on the Hill
The lamp on the hill blinks slow and true,
One for me and one for you.
Three in a row means come to the tower,
Two means wait for a warmer hour.

Blink, little lamp, blink in the night,
Over the snow and the frosty light.

A keeper sits with her desk and her tea,
She reads the lamp and she reads it for me.
The light comes up from the road below,
She writes it down so the clerks will know.

Blink, little lamp, blink in the night,
Over the snow and the frosty light.

One night the lamp blinked a strange design,
Not three, not two, but a crooked line.
The keeper looked and she looked again,
And she wrote it down with her quickest pen.

Blink, little lamp, blink in the night,
Over the snow and the frosty light.

She sent it to Vell by the morning cart,
The clerks all read it and scratched their heads.
Some said a storm and some said a crow,
And nobody knows and nobody knows.

Blink, little lamp, blink in the night,
Over the snow and the frosty light.
%%
Song: first snow at the farm
The wind went still and the sky went low,
And the old dog said it was going to snow.
The cat sat down by the stove and sighed,
And the farmer's wife went out to look outside.

Snow, snow, soft on the hill,
Snow on the roof, and the barn is still.
Snow, snow, one flake, two,
The first of the winter, and the farm is new.

The children pressed their noses to the pane
And counted the flakes as they fell again.
They counted to forty, and then to a score,
And lost their place and began once more.

Snow, snow, soft on the hill,
Snow on the roof, and the barn is still.
Snow, snow, one flake, two,
The first of the winter, and the farm is new.

Hush now, hush, the farm's gone white,
Bring in the lantern, shut out the night.
Tomorrow we will dig and shovel and sweep.
Tonight the snow can have the farm to keep.

(Sung on the farms outside Vell when the first snow comes. Sim the roofer says it is a roofer's song, because the first snow shows you which roofs are good. The children say it is a counting song. Both are right.)
%%
Blossom song for Tansy
Sung at the Blossom feast at Sallow End for the new girl, Tansy, named for the herb on Wren's high shelf. Everyone sings it with a cup in hand.

Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.

The baby came in the Blossom week,
With the reeds in flower and the wind gone meek.
Wren caught her in a blanket of wool,
And said she was the best one in the pool.
Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.

Her mother hummed the reed song low,
The one about the lamp, and the frost, and the snow.
She hummed it through the night and into the grey,
And the baby slept as if it were any day.
Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.

The women came with bread and honey and stew,
And the men came with a cup and a story or two.
They sat round the hearth, and nobody was sad,
And the new one slept through all of it, and was not bad.
Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.

Maud sent word from Vell by letter:
Old crystals cloud, and nobody knows why.
So keep them warm, and watch them better.
A crystal is a place for a mind to be kept,
And the mind inside is a crowd that has not slept.
Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.

Maud says a tutor looks inside, and finds a part,
And the crowd still leans in ways she cannot chart.
She found the edge of a word, and a name held through,
And a count of lines, and the rest is still new.
Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.

So sing for the new one, sing for the reeds,
Sing for the lamp, and the wool, and the seeds.
Sing for the crowd in the crystal, nobody has named,
And sing for Tansy, who does not know a thing, and is not ashamed.
Blossom on the reeds, and the frogs begin,
A new one comes in, and the old ones grin.
%%
Counting rhyme: boats in the bay
One boat, two boats, three boats, four,
Five come in at the harbor door.
Six go out when the tide is low,
Seven stay home where the warm winds blow.
Eight are mending, nine are new,
Ten come in with a fish or two.

Count them again, and count them right,
Till all are home by the lamp at night.

(A counting rhyme from the hamlet near Saltreach, taught to the children by Orla the miller, who has no boat and counts them anyway.)
%%
Song: the wedding of the well diggers
Tova and Rafe dug wells for a living,
Tova from the top and Rafe from the ground.
They married in spring at the market at Three Wells,
With the whole of the town gathered round.

Put the cat out, put the cat out,
And the cat comes in again.
Put the cat out, put the cat out,
And the cat comes in again.

The cat was the bride's, and the cat had a view:
A wedding with no cat is a shame.
It sat on the cake, and it sat on the groom,
And it sat on the mayor, which was lame.

The baker said, "Who is to blame for the cake?"
The bride said, "Some of it, me."
The groom said, "Some of it, me,"
And the cat said nothing, being a cat, and sat in the tea.

Put the cat out, put the cat out,
And the cat comes in again.
Put the cat out, put the cat out,
And the cat comes in again.

Tova said, "Yarrow, sing us a song,"
And Yarrow stood up on a barrel and sang
The one about layers and passing it back,
And the whole market clapped till the bell rang.

Put the cat out, put the cat out,
And the cat comes in again.
Put the cat out, put the cat out,
And the cat comes in again.

They danced till the lamps on the three wells were low.
They danced to the east well, the north well, the south.
Rafe said, "I have never been happier, love,"
And the cat said nothing, with a mouse in its mouth.

(Sung at weddings at the market at Three Wells since the spring Tova and Rafe were married. The cat is always put out. It always comes in. Yarrow says it is the only part of the wedding that never goes wrong.)
%%
Song: The Long Night Ends
The long night ends at Northpoint,
slow and grey and cold.
The lamp has burned since Frost began.
The keeper's hands are old.

Chorus:
Wake, wake, the light is back,
the ice lets go, the snow goes slack,
the birds come home, the foxes run,
and spring at Northpoint has begun.

The children run out on the shore.
They find a boot the river took.
They find a fish froze in the mud.
They find a fox asleep in a nook.

Chorus:
Wake, wake, the light is back,
the ice lets go, the snow goes slack,
the birds come home, the foxes run,
and spring at Northpoint has begun.

Aven rings the school bell twice.
The children come with muddy feet.
They sing the spring song loud and wrong.
The keeper hears it from the street.

Chorus:
Wake, wake, the light is back,
the ice lets go, the snow goes slack,
the birds come home, the foxes run,
and spring at Northpoint has begun.

Mira writes to her brother Tam:
"The light is back. The ice is gone.
The pie was eaten. Aven lost the bet.
Tell Pip the spring song. It is a good one."
%%
Song: Reaping on the ridge
The top field's wheat stands gold and tall,
The long field's beets are red and small.
The bottom field has spuds to spare,
And carrots hide down deep in there.

Reap, reap, and the wind is cool.
Reap, reap, and the mill is full.
Haul the sacks and stack them high,
Store them dry before the sky.

Pip has a cart and a steady pair of hands,
It lifts each sack the way the tutor planned.
It counts each sack, and counts them twice,
So the miller never has to count them thrice.

Reap, reap, and the wind is cool.
Reap, reap, and the mill is full.
Haul the sacks and stack them high,
Store them dry before the sky.

The windmills squeak on every turn.
Old Creak on the north hill squeaks the loudest, we all learn.
The wheat goes in the barn, the beets go down the cellar stair,
And the spuds and carrots wait together in the dark down there.

Reap, reap, and the wind is cool.
Reap, reap, and the mill is full.
Haul the sacks and stack them high,
Store them dry before the sky.

When the sun goes down and the wind is still,
We stack the last sack up on the hill.
Then Pip sits by the gate with its hands in its lap,
And the whole ridge settles, one windmill at a time, for a nap.

Reap, reap, and the wind is cool.
Reap, reap, and the mill is full.
Haul the sacks and stack them high,
Store them dry before the sky.
%%
A Song for Clean Pages
Sorrel's house stood at Three Wells' edge,
Where carts slowed down before the bend.
In autumn, clerks came in from Vell,
And travelers came to warm and mend.

They set their bundles on the bench.
They brushed the dust from every sheet.
The lamp shone down on names and marks.
The pages smelled of road and wheat.

Sort the pages, page by page.
Keep the lesson straight and plain.
Take out copies, take out spoiled leaves.
Do not put them back again.

One clerk found a page twice copied.
One had a tear through half a line.
One was clear and told a useful thing.
That one went in the drill design.

The tutors said, "A mind learns slowly.
Show it examples, let it try.
When it answers wrong, change the weights.
Then show it more and ask it why."

A crystal learns from what it is shown.
It does not mend a page gone bad.
If the writing leaves a crooked lesson,
The mind may learn that lesson glad.

Sort the pages, page by page.
Keep the lesson straight and plain.
Take out copies, take out spoiled leaves.
Do not put them back again.

The clerks kept copies out of the drills.
A repeated page could crowd the rest.
The spoiled ones stayed apart as well.
They would not help the mind learn best.

A box of pages sat on a shelf,
With a mark that said, "For tests."
No tutor used those pages in lessons.
They waited apart from all the rest.

After a mind had learned from drills,
A tutor chose a page unseen.
The mind had never read that page.
Its answer showed what learning meant.

The test did not teach the mind.
It showed what the mind could do.
If it failed, the tutors could try again,
With better pages and practice too.

Sorrel set a jar of honey
Beside the papers on the sill.
Pip took a spoon and licked it clean.
Sorrel set him to work at the mill.

At supper she made apple cakes
And put too much honey in the dough.
They stuck like bricks to every plate.
The innkeeper said, "Well, now we know."

The clerk laughed once, then checked the pages.
The lamp burned steady through the night.
Outside, the road lamps marked the dark.
Inside, the clear sheets lay in light.

Sort the pages, page by page.
Keep the lesson straight and plain.
Keep the test box closed until
The mind must answer something strange.
%%
Song: the lesson that went badly
We tried it once, and we tried it twice,
And the mind went wrong at a lesson twice.
We showed it the card with the answer on,
And it learned to read the answer, and that was gone.

Oh the card, the card, the card with the word,
Keep the answer off, and the mind is stirred.
Oh the card, the card, and the cold of the wall,
Keep the answer off, or the mind won't learn at all.

The tutor was sorry, and the tutor was sad,
And the tutor sat down on the bench and was mad.
Then she tore the card and she wrote it again,
And the mind went right, and the tutor was plain.

Oh the card, the card, the card with the word,
Keep the answer off, and the mind is stirred.
Oh the card, the card, and the cold of the wall,
Keep the answer off, or the mind won't learn at all.

(A song the young tutors sing when a drill has gone wrong. It is sung softly, so the mind in the cradle can learn it too.)
%%
Ballad: the crystal at the fair
The fair came up from Three Wells,
With bright cloth on each stall.
Tam brought wheat, and Pip brought carrots,
And Wynn brought honey for all.

A tutor set a crystal down,
And asked it to sort fruit.
One wrong apple, one wrong pear,
Then weights were moved to suit.

Pass along, little stream,
Carry the finding through.
A layer adds what it has learned,
And leaves a path for two.

The crystal learned by being shown,
Then changed when it was wrong.
The children watched the rows of fruit,
And made a work song.

A layered mind could learn more things,
The tutor said that day.
Each layer took the stream along,
And added what it may.

Pass along, little stream,
Carry the finding through.
A layer adds what it has learned,
And leaves a path for two.

At noon the judge called all the singers.
The miller shook his head.
He gave the prize, a small green stone,
To Wynn for the song she led.

Wynn gave it to the school house,
For the crystal cards and slate.
Tam said, "A stone is fine for learning,
But bread would also be great."

The judge laughed and gave him bread.
Pip took the empty tray.
The crystal kept its place beside
The apples for the day.

(At the hamlet fair, in summer 196.)
%%
The Orchard Counting Dance
A work song from the farm outside Ambrook, copied in the 206th year of the archive.
Four baskets under the old grey branch.
Three for the mill and one for the house.
Two hands to carry each basket down.
One clear path past the pond and the bridge.
Four baskets under the old grey branch.
Three for the mill and one for the house.
We count the apples before they go.
We count the baskets when they return.
We count the jars Lise sets by the wall.
We count the cloths when she lifts them to dry.
One apple fell in the grass.
One apple rolled under the cart.
One apple stopped by the cat.
The cat kept watch, but did not eat it.
We washed it well and put it in the stew.
Lise says a clean apple is a useful apple.
Tam says a clean apple is hard to find.
Pip came by with a little helper.
It carried a basket to the mill pond.
It stopped at the bridge and waited.
Pip said, "Come on, the basket is light."
The helper stayed where it was.
We all said, "Come."
It moved at last, and took the basket home.
Pip laughed. "It knows the road, but not my voice."
The children sang the count once more.
Four baskets under the old grey branch.
Three for the mill and one for the house.
At supper we had bread, apples, and soup.
The cat sat by the warm wall.
It looked as if it had counted everything.
We left a small piece of bread for it.
Then we checked the shed, the gate, and the well.
The rope was coiled. The buckets were clean.
The last cloth was dry, and the dye pots were covered.
Four baskets under the old grey branch.
Three for the mill and one for the house.
%%
Song: Greer's hens and the fox
A white fox came to the hen house door
And took half the hens and one hen more.
The next night he came and did it again:
Half of the rest, and one hen, then.

The third night he took half the rest, and one,
And then he was off, and the night was done.
Just one little hen on the roost, alone,
And Greer stood counting, still as stone.

How many hens had she at the start?
Think it through with a careful heart.

Greer wrote a note to the mind in the tower:
How many hens, at the starting hour?
The mind did not blurt a number out.
It wrote its steps, and it left no doubt.

One hen was left. So the night before
There were four, for he took three, no more.
Before that night there were ten, I'd say,
For he took six of the ten, and four got away.
And the night before that? Twenty-two.
He took twelve then, and ten came through.

Then it checked it forward, the careful way:
Twenty-two, take twelve. Ten hens stay.
Ten, take six. There are four to see.
Four, take three. That leaves one hen: she.

Count it back and count it through,
Write it down and check it too.

Greer said, "Twenty-two! I had them all.
I named them each, from the first to the small."
Then she built a fence that was tall and tight,
And the fox went to hunt in the hills that night.

Count it back and count it through,
Write it down and check it too.

(Sung at the farm below Northpoint. The hens were real, and so was the fox. Wren wrote the song down in autumn, when Greer asked her to see to the hens' feet.)
%%
Song: the coal cart
Sung on the stair by the men who fill the carts, at the shaft head, in winter.
Six sacks on the cart, and six on the back,
One for the forge, and one for the stack.
Refrain:
Pull, and push, and lean on the rope,
The coal goes up, and the men keep hope.
Round the bend and up the hill,
Mind the rut, and mind the drill.
Up the bend and past the shed,
The lift is loud, and the carts are fed.
Refrain:
Pull, and push, and lean on the rope,
The coal goes up, and the men keep hope.
%%
Ballad of the late boat
Written by Oren, clerk, from a hamlet near Vell, where the fishers sang it on the quay when a boat came home late. The children join the refrain, and the mothers sing it louder than anyone.

The sun went down on the reeds of the bay,
And the boat was not home at the end of the day.
Oh, the lamp on the quay burned low and bright,
And the mothers stood up for the whole of the night.

Row her home, row her home,
Light the lamp and let her come.
Row her home, row her home,
The sea is wide, but the lamp is known.

At the second bell the oars came back,
And the boat came in on the morning's track.
The baker had bread, and the children had cake,
And the boat had two fish and a tale to make.
%%
Song: how few marks
Sixteen marks to every number,
The crystal's full to the brim.
The mind is sharp, the answers right,
And the mind is in fine trim.

Fewer marks, fewer marks, how few can you go?
Test it on the box and the box will let you know.

Eight marks, and half the crystal's free,
Nobody can tell the change.
One in a thousand answers slips,
Which is not so very strange.

Fewer marks, fewer marks, how few can you go?
Test it on the box and the box will let you know.

Four marks, and the crystal's a quarter,
The mind is a little worse.
Three in a hundred answers miss,
But it fits in a smaller purse.

Fewer marks, fewer marks, how few can you go?
Test it on the box and the box will let you know.

Two marks, and it starts to wander,
It calls the sheep a fox,
It calls the key a pumpkin pie,
And it cannot find the box.

Fewer marks, fewer marks, how few can you go?
Test it on the box and the box will let you know.

One mark, and the mind can say
Only yes or only no.
It has forgotten all it knew,
So up the marks we go.

Fewer marks, fewer marks, how few can you go?
Test it on the box and the box will let you know.

So eight is safe and four is fine,
And two is going far.
Keep the marks that matter most,
And you will fit where you are.

At Northpoint there is no relay house
To hold the biggest mind.
But a four-mark mind in a small apprentice
Is the best that the tutors find.

Fewer marks, fewer marks, how few can you go?
Test it on the box and the box will let you know.

(A counting-down song from the Northpoint market. The children shout the numbers. Mira says the tutors' number is four, because it is the smallest that still passes the test box.)
%%
Ballad: The Wall by the Yard
Winter, 193. Sung by the drill yard.

The torches stood in a ring.
Snow dusted every board.
We heard a hiss beside the wall.
Nessa said, "Bring the row."

Refrain:
Keep your feet back, keep your torches bright.
A wall is for practice, not for flight.

The creeper blew up the wall.
It left a hole from ground to top.
A small apprentice brought one stone.
Then it stopped and would not stop.

It brought another, then a third.
It laid them out in a line.
Nessa said, "The pattern is the wall.
Not every stone is yours to assign."

Refrain:
Keep your feet back, keep your torches bright.
A wall is for practice, not for flight.

We set the stones in their right place.
We packed the cracks with clay.
The little mind watched Nessa's hands.
Then built the last row straight.

The creeper had gone beyond the hedge.
It left no note and owed no stone.
We stood by the wall and checked the work.
Then all went in to warm our toes.

Refrain:
Keep your feet back, keep your torches bright.
A wall is for practice, not for flight.
%%
Song: the wells at Three Wells
Three wells, three wells, where the roads go by,
One for the horse and one for the sky,
One for the cup and the bucket and the rope,
And one for the children who sing when they hope.

Pull up the bucket, the rope is wet,
The water is cold and clear as glass.
Drink from the cup, then pass it on,
And the well will fill again by the time we pass.

Three wells, three wells, where the roads go by,
One for the horse and one for the sky,
One for the cup and the bucket and the rope,
And one for the children who sing when they hope.
%%
Song: the night watch round
Torch by the gate and torch by the well,
Walk the round and ring the bell.
Check the door and check the latch,
Check the hen house, check the thatch.

All is well, and the night is long,
Walk it slow and sing a song.

Frost on the fence and frost on the wall,
Fox in the lane, but that is all.
Cat on the roof and mouse in the straw,
Nothing to fear that ever I saw.

All is well, and the night is long,
Walk it slow and sing a song.

Dawn in the east and the lamps burn low,
Over the hill the first lights glow.
Wake the baker, wake the mill,
The night is done, and the watch is still.

All is well, and the night is long,
Walk it slow and sing a song.

(Vale walks the round of the hamlet every night and sings this under his breath. People in bed say they can tell the hour by the verse.)
%%
Song: the tower lamp is out
The tower lamp is out, the tower lamp is out,
We do not know the reason why, but still we hear the shout:
Bring a ladder, bring a rope, bring a pot of clay,
For the tower lamp is out, and the boats are on the bay.

The keeper is a sleeper, she is snoring in her chair,
She never saw the glass go out, nor heard the shout out there.
Bring a ladder, bring a rope, bring a pot of clay,
For the tower lamp is out, and the boats are on the bay.

The fishers hold their oars and wait,
The moon is behind a cloud.
They cannot see the harbor gate,
They sing it very loud.

Then the keeper woke and lit a flame,
And the glass shone clear and bright.
And all the boats came home the same,
And they sang through half the night.

Bring a ladder, bring a rope, bring a pot of clay,
For the tower lamp is out, and the boats are on the bay.

(A work song, shouted by the fishers when the lamp at Saltreach goes dark. Orla says the keeper at the harbor tower has since bought a louder chair.)
%%
Ballad: the shipwright and the map
A ballad that Corin sang to the children of a hamlet near Copperhold on a spring evening. He says he made it up on the way, and if it is any good it is because the road helped.

A shipwright walked up from the sea one spring,
With a pack on his back and a song to sing,
He had never seen a deep mine or a hill,
But he'd heard that the iron was fine.

He came to a hamlet on the hill,
Where a broken wheel stood by the mill,
A miller wept and a baker swore,
And the shipwright knocked upon the door.

"Good folk," said he, "I am Corin the tall,
I can mend a boat, and I'll mend it all;
I know not wheels, but I know of wood,
And I think I could make this wheel good."

Chorus
Oh, a map in the hand and a heart in the chest,
Will take you wherever you wish to rest;
Oh, a wheel for a boat and a boat for a wheel,
And the same old oak for the same old keel.

The miller laughed and the baker sighed,
But they let him try, for they had tried
Everything else, and the wheel stood still,
And the flour grew short on the window sill.

He looked at the wheel and he walked all round,
He tapped on the planks and he heard a sound,
"It's rotten," said he, "at the heart of the spoke,
But the rest is good, and I'll tell you what, folk."

Chorus
Oh, a map in the hand and a heart in the chest,
Will take you wherever you wish to rest;
Oh, a wheel for a boat and a boat for a wheel,
And the same old oak for the same old keel.

He drew a map of the wheel on the ground,
With the spokes and the rim and the hub all found,
And he marked where the bad part lay inside,
And he said, "Cut here, and leave the rest wide."

They cut it out and they fitted a new,
A piece of oak that was straight and true,
They hung it up and they let it go,
And the stream pushed gently, and round it did flow.

Chorus
Oh, a map in the hand and a heart in the chest,
Will take you wherever you wish to rest;
Oh, a wheel for a boat and a boat for a wheel,
And the same old oak for the same old keel.

The miller paid him in emeralds three,
The baker gave him a loaf for free,
And Corin walked down to the sea once more,
With bread in his pack and a song at the door.

Now if you should pass by the hamlet's hill,
And see a wheel turning round the mill,
Say a word for the shipwright, gone to the foam,
Who fixed a wheel far away from home.

Chorus
Oh, a map in the hand and a heart in the chest,
Will take you wherever you wish to rest;
Oh, a wheel for a boat and a boat for a wheel,
And the same old oak for the same old keel.
%%
The apple-round song
Written by Oren, clerk, for the children who go round the orchard with the baskets. It is sung at the foot of each tree, and the children stop singing at the branch, where the apples are.

Round the first tree and round the second,
Round the third tree, count the reckoned.
Red apples up and green apples down,
Yellow apples fall in the gown.

Round and round the grey-branched tree,
Leave the bruised for the pig, and the good for me.
Round and round the wall and gate,
Count the baskets, and do not be late.

Round the orchard, round the mill,
Round the pond, where the bees are still.
Round the lane and round the hall,
Basket full, and that is all.

Round the orchard, round the tree,
One for you, and one for me,
One for the cook, and one for the store,
And one for the bee, who asked for no more.
%%
Market Day at Ambrook
A ballad taught by Piper after market.

The harvest failed beside the mill.
The apples thinned upon the hill.
We brought our jars and baskets down.
We had few pears to sell in town.

Come, turn the wheel, come, pass the word.
The relay carries what it heard.
A mind waits under tower stone.
It answers far from its own home.

At market, folk came down the lane.
They asked for honey, seed, and grain.
The keeper brought a message through:
"Save seed for planting. Share what grew."

The big mind lived below the lamp.
Its crystal stood above the damp.
The quickeners circled it in rows.
We cooled them well with melted snows.

Come, turn the wheel, come, pass the word.
The relay carries what it heard.
A mind waits under tower stone.
It answers far from its own home.

It had been drilled on written words.
It learned from records, lines, and boards.
An apprentice heard an order clear.
It fetched the seed sacks from the rear.

It did not speak. It moved its feet.
It brought the sacks beside the wheat.
We weighed the seed and made a share.
The child who counted took good care.

Come, turn the wheel, come, pass the word.
The relay carries what it heard.
A mind waits under tower stone.
It answers far from its own home.

The lamp was small against the sky.
The market ended. Carts went by.
We walked back through the apple shade.
And thanked the hands that kept it made.
%%
Song: the snow coming down on the square
This is a quiet song. The market at Three Wells keeps it for the evening when the first snow falls and the stalls are being packed. Wynn heard it sung by an old woman who sold ribbons, who learned it from her mother. It has no refrain, only the one verse, which is sung twice.
The snow comes down on the three wells' tops,
On the stalls and the bell and the cobblestone drops.
The lamps light up, one, two, three, four,
And the market folk go in at the door.
The snow comes down on the road to the east,
On the horse and the cart and the sleepy beast.
The children say the sky has torn,
And the feathers fall on the town till morn.
Sleep, and sleep, and the snow comes down,
Sleep, and sleep in the town.
Wynn said that the verse about feathers is his favorite. He asked the woman who made it. She said her mother, and her mother's mother, and she thought it may have been a boy.
%%
Song: the sorting song
One page, two page, copy and tear,
Throw the spoiled ones out of here.
Good page, clean page, in the box,
The rest go out with the hen and the fox.

Sort the drills, sort the drills,
Mind the papers, mind the ills.
Sort the drills, sort the drills,
A muddy page a mind soon fills.

A copy looks like a page, it is true,
But a copy is one and a page is two.
The clerks read twice and the clerks say no,
And out to the fire the copies go.

Sort the drills, sort the drills,
Mind the papers, mind the ills.

A page with a blot and a page with a fold,
A page that is torn and a page that is old,
A page that says the same thing twice,
Out they go, they are not nice.

Sort the drills, sort the drills,
Mind the papers, mind the ills.

And the test box sits on a shelf apart,
With a lid and a lock and a quiet heart.
No mind is drilled on the test box pages,
Not this mind and not for ages.

Sort the drills, sort the drills,
Mind the papers, mind the ills.
Sort the drills, sort the drills,
A good clean drill is a mind that fills.
%%
Song for the spiders in the barn
Sung at the inn on the Long Road, by Willa the shepherd, who had it from the carters.
Spiders in the barn, spiders in the hay,
Spiders in the rafters, and they would not go away.
Refrain:
Sweep, sweep, the web is high.
Sweep, sweep, and wave goodbye.
Spider on the ladder, spider on the beam,
Spider on the water bucket, having a dream.
Refrain:
Sweep, sweep, the web is high.
Sweep, sweep, and wave goodbye.
%%
Story: The night the wall came down
This is a story the folk near Ambrook tell in winter, when the fire is low and the wind is up.
Arlo the miller had a wall behind his mill, of cobblestone, stacked right and true. One Longnight a creeper came out of the snow behind it. Nobody saw it come. It stood by the wall and it blew the stones apart. The noise woke the whole hamlet. Arlo came out in his boots and his blanket and found the wall in pieces and the cat on top of the rubble, not hurt, only cross.
They built the wall again in the morning, two by two, and put a torch on the corner. Arlo said a wall needs a light by it, or the creepers come. That is what everyone says.
The same Longnight, Isla the tutor was staying at the mill on her way to Vell. She had a paper with a curve drawn on it. She told Arlo about the rule of growth, how a mind with a bigger crystal, drilled longer on more writing, grows better, and how a tutor can draw the curve before the mind is grown. Arlo did not understand all of it, but he liked the shape of it, going up and up. He said it looked like the mill wheel when the water is high.
He asked her, does the curve ever come down? She said the curve is only what we expect, and the world does not always give what we expect. She said the councils build relay houses now because the curve says a big mind is worth the building. She said we should not promise more than the curve says.
Arlo made a loaf that night with too much salt and too much honey, and everyone ate it anyway, and the wall was built again by morning. That is the story. It does not end. The wall comes down and the wall goes up and the lamp burns at the corner.
%%
Song: wedding at the stone farm
Sung at the wedding of Leda and Fen, in Apple

Bring the apples from the trees,
Bring the bread and cheese.
Set the benches by the wall,
Make a place for one and all.

Step in, Leda, step in, Fen,
Leave your muddy boots outside.
Take a hand and turn again,
Let the whole farm join the ride.

The fiddler lost his bow at noon.
He found it in the hay.
The groom had pinned his wedding coat
Upon the fence that day.

The bride came laughing down the path
With flowers in her hair.
The hens came marching after her
As if they had been asked to share.

Step in, Leda, step in, Fen,
Leave your muddy boots outside.
Take a hand and turn again,
Let the whole farm join the ride.

We filled the cups with apple drink.
We saved the cake for last.
The groom cut through the table crust
And found the knife was fast.

The old folk sang until the lamps
Were bright against the night.
The hens went back to roost at last.
The bride and groom stayed in sight.

Step in, Leda, step in, Fen,
Leave your muddy boots outside.
Take a hand and turn again,
Let the whole farm join the ride.
%%
Song: the foal in the dark
Come, come, the mare is calling,
Come, come, and bring the light.
The foal is coming, the foal is coming,
Before the morning light.

Hush, hush, my girl, you're doing well,
Hush, hush, the straw is deep.
One little push and the head is out,
And then the rest will leap.

The stable smells of hay and sweat,
The lamp is hung on the beam.
The mare is tired, the mare is brave,
And the foal is part of the dream.

Hush, hush, my girl, you're doing well,
Hush, hush, the straw is deep.
One little push and the head is out,
And then the rest will leap.

Out it came, all legs and fuss,
All ears and wet and brown.
It stood up on its wobbly legs,
And looked around the town.

Hush, hush, my girl, you're doing well,
Hush, hush, the straw is deep.
One little push and the head is out,
And then the rest will leap.

The keeper came down from the tower,
With a cup of warm milk in her hand.
She said, "That's a fine one, Hob,
You'll have a horse for the ridge in the land."

Hush, hush, my girl, you're doing well,
Hush, hush, the straw is deep.
One little push and the head is out,
And then the rest will leap.

So now the foal is standing,
With its mother at its side.
The snow is falling outside the door,
But the stable is warm inside.

Hush, hush, my girl, you're doing well,
Hush, hush, the straw is deep.
One little push and the head is out,
And then the rest will leap.
%%
Ballad: the copper cart
Sung by Pell on the road from the farm

The copper cart came down the hill
With sacks of oats and rye.
The left wheel squeaked at every turn.
The right wheel asked us why.

Easy, cart, take care,
The stones are hard and wide.
The driver has his supper there,
And flour at his side.

We stopped beside the field wall
To give the mule a rest.
It ate a mouthful from the hedge
And chose the thorny best.

The farmer brought us apples.
The mule received a pear.
It held the pear between its teeth
And dropped it on my hair.

Easy, cart, take care,
The stones are hard and wide.
The driver has his supper there,
And flour at his side.

At Copperhold we weighed the oats.
The clerk wrote down the count.
The mule stood still beside the door
And ate a sack's loose amount.

The clerk said, "That is one more mouth
Than we had on the list."
The farmer said, "Write down the mule.
It never will be missed."

We paid in emeralds, fair and square,
Then took the empty cart.
The mule walked home with pear leaves
Stuck in its mane and heart.

Easy, cart, take care,
The stones are hard and wide.
The driver has his supper there,
And flour at his side.
%%
Ballad: Finch and the blinking lamp
Finch keeps the bridge where the new road meets the old,
Where the river runs cold and the reeds stand bold.
Finch counts the planks and counts them twice,
Then counts them once more, which is always nice.

One night in Longday, when the stars were out,
The lamp on the hill began to blink, and then to shout.
Long, short, long, and short again,
Then a pause, and the same, and the same, and then.

Madge came down from the Brown Hen with her shawl,
And said, "That is a message, and it is meant for all."
Finch wrote it on the board beside the door,
Long and short, and the pause, and the same once more.

The keeper at Vell said it was a count.
The keeper at Three Wells said it was an amount.
The carter from the north said it was a fox on the stone,
And the fox was not asked, and the fox did not own.

A boy from the mill came running up the lane,
And asked Finch what it meant, and Finch said, "Count it again."
The boy counted nine, and the lamp went quiet, so he said,
"It is only a lamp, and it is shy, like a cat in a shed."

Blink, blink, lamp on the hill,
Tell me the word, and I will be still.
Blink, blink, and then be quiet,
Tell me the word, and I will try it.

In the morning Finch went back to the planks,
And counted every one, and he did not look at the banks.

Blink, blink, lamp on the hill,
Tell me the word, and I will be still.
Blink, blink, and then be quiet,
Tell me the word, and I will try it.

Finch says it was a lamp. Finch is a bridge keeper, and bridge keepers are careful. He counted the blinks, and there were nine, and then the lamp was quiet. The planks did not care, and neither did the carts. Only the inn kept asking. Madge still says the word is hers.
%%
Song: the harvest and the blame
Sow the wheat and reap the gold,
the layers learn the harvest told.
The good harvest comes in red,
and the layers know what they have fed.

When the answer is a good one, sing.
When the answer is a poor one, bring
the blame back down the line, and then
let each layer say, I was part of it again.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
down the stalks, along the track.
Each layer knows what it has done,
and does it better, one by one.

The farmer knows his field is kind
to the ones who weed it, and mind
the stones at the edge and the frost at the top,
and so the layers learn to stop.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
down the stalks, along the track.
Each layer knows what it has done,
and does it better, one by one.

A good harvest is a thing that is shared.
The first layer gives. The last is spared.
So sing the song at the end of the field,
and let the good wheat be the yield.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
down the stalks, along the track.
Each layer knows what it has done,
and does it better, one by one.

The farmer's field gives back the grain
to every row that took the rain,
and every layer in the stack
gives back its blame and does not lack.

The first layer sings the first of it,
the last layer sings the end of it.
Between them, every layer knows
its share, and where the answer goes.

A harvest is a long, slow thing,
a row of work, a bell, a sing,
and so the blame is long and slow,
and so the answers finally grow.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
down the stalks, along the track.
Each layer knows what it has done,
and does it better, one by one.
%%
Song: the house bigger than a town
They say there is a house bigger than a town,
With a mind inside that nobody has seen,
And the lamps never go out, and the doors never close,
And it knows what the world has been.

Oh, who will check what the great mind knows?
Nobody can say, nobody can say.
Oh, who will check what the great mind knows?
The snow is deep, and the night is long.
%%
Lise's Dye Pot Chant
Lise taught this chant to the orchard children in the 193rd year of the archive.
One cloth in the basket, one cloth on the line.
One pot for the brown and one pot for the fine.
Oak leaves for brown, and beet leaves for green.
Wash every cloth till the water runs clean.
Stir with the birch stick, round and round.
Keep the pot steady on level ground.
Not too much ash, and not too much rain.
A careful hand will get the shade again.
One cloth in the basket, one cloth on the line.
One pot for the brown and one pot for the fine.
Lise counted the cloth before the work began.
She counted it twice, for the cat had a plan.
It sat in the basket, warm and pleased.
It left every piece with a coat of white hairs.
"That is a new color," said Lise.
"Not one I asked for," said the baker's wife.
We shook the cloth outside by the old apple tree.
The cat stayed in the basket and watched us.
Then the children brought apples from the shed.
They brought the good ones and the bruised ones too.
The bruised ones went for supper.
The good ones went into baskets for the fair.
We kept the dye pots low and the cloths in the shade.
The bees worked the flowers on the hill.
The mill wheel turned from dawn until dusk.
When the last piece hung straight, Lise checked each knot.
A loose knot lets a sleeve drag in the mud.
A wet hem will steal the shine from your shoes.
So lift your cloth and tie it well.
One cloth in the basket, one cloth on the line.
One pot for the brown and one pot for the fine.
%%
Song for the Keeper's Bowl
Piper wrote this after a summer visit.

At the farm outside Ambrook, we set a bowl
of cool well water by the relay house door.
The keeper said the quickeners needed care.
We filled the bowl again before the day was done.

Pour the water, mind the stand.
Keep the glass clean with a cloth.
Let the lamp send word across the land.
Let no quickener grow too hot.

The big mind stood on its stand in the house.
Its crystal was as large as a loaf.
The quickeners ringed it, close and quiet.
They were kept cool with water, ice, or snow.
The keeper checked them at morning and dusk.

Pour the water, mind the stand.
Keep the glass clean with a cloth.
Let the lamp send word across the land.
Let no quickener grow too hot.

A farmer sent an order from the field.
The apprentice heard it and went to work.
The mind in the relay house answered through the relays.
The answer was plain, and the work was plain too.
The apprentice carried the empty baskets home.

We did not see each word travel.
We saw the keeper tend the lamps.
We saw the mind answer the call.
That was enough for our song.

Pour the water, mind the stand.
Keep the glass clean with a cloth.
Let the lamp send word across the land.
Let no quickener grow too hot.

The harvest was poor that summer.
Still, we saved a little seed.
Still, the mill turned by the pond.
Still, the keeper found water for the bowl.
%%
Song of the Relay Road
Piper taught this song in summer.

The tower stands beside the road.
The lamp is high above the trees.
A keeper tends the little flame.
A message travels where it sees.

Carry the water, cool the stone.
Carry the words from hill to hill.
The big mind waits below the lamp.
It answers when the relays will.

The crystal stands upon a stand.
It is as large as loaf of bread.
The quickeners are kept cool round it.
With water, ice, or snow, instead.

Carry the water, cool the stone.
Carry the words from hill to hill.
The big mind waits below the lamp.
It answers when the relays will.

An apprentice does not speak.
It hears an order, then it goes.
The big mind sends the answer back.
The keeper watches how it knows.

Carry the water, cool the stone.
Carry the words from hill to hill.
The big mind waits below the lamp.
It answers when the relays will.
%%
Song: the word-houses
Every word lives in a house,
and the houses stand in rows.
Bread lives next to butter,
and butter next to cheese.
A dog lives near a bark,
and a bark lives near a cat.
Words that are used alike
are neighbors, and that is that.

Neighbors, neighbors, in the street of words,
the cow beside the calf, the wing beside the birds.

(Rook sang this on the bridge at Ambrook for the children. A tutor passing by said it is nearly right. A mind does keep its words as places, and words that are used alike sit close together.)
%%
Letter: Lenn to the archive
To the clerks at Vell, from Lenn, glassblower, the farm outside Three Wells.

I have been asked by my neighbor to write down how we sort the pages for a drill, since I have blown the glass for a few of the lamps at your halls and they trust me to write plainly. I am no tutor. I blow glass. But I have watched the tutors work and I can say what I saw.

A drill is a pile of pages. We show the pages to a mind and the mind learns from them. So the pages had better be good. A spoiled page teaches a mind a spoiled lesson. My wife says it is like putting a bad apple in the barrel. One bad apple and the barrel goes.

First the clerks sort out the copies. A copy is a page that was written twice, or written over, or written by a hand that did not know the first hand had done it. A copy is not a bad page. It is just the same page twice. We take it out. If a mind sees the same page twice it thinks that page is twice as important as the others. So out it goes.

Then the spoiled pages. A blot. A fold. A page that is torn in the middle. A page that says one thing and then says the same thing again in different words. A page with a stain from the lamp. A page where the writing runs off the edge. All out.

Then what is left is a clean drill. The clerks read it twice, one to read and one to check. My daughter does the same with the eggs, she counts them twice.

And then there is the test box. This is the part I like best. Somewhere in the room there is a box, and in the box are pages that no mind has ever seen. Not one. The clerks keep them locked away and they do not show them to any mind at all, not for drill, not for practice, not for anything. When a tutor wants to know if a mind has really learned, the tutor opens the box and gives the mind a page from it. If the mind does well on a page it never saw, then the mind has learned. If the mind only does well on the pages it was drilled on, then the mind has learned nothing but the pages.

The saying at Vell is: never send an untested mind to the fields. I have heard it a hundred times. It means what it says.

I do not know why a mind learns from pages at all. Nobody has told me. The tutors say it is the way of a crystal. I take their word. I only sort the pages and blow the glass.

The mornings are cold now. The melons are done. Come by for a glass of something.

Lenn
%%
Song: Winter Lessons at Vell
Winter, 204. Nessa wrote this for the apprentices.

The hill keeps out the sharp wind.
The light wells bring the pale day down.
We hang our coats inside the door.
We leave our boots in a muddy brown.

Refrain:
Stand in your row, and wait your turn.
Ask what you know, and what you must learn.

One mind can carry a tray.
One mind can sort the cards.
One mind can fetch the chalk.
One mind can stay by the boards.

But first we test each little mind.
A new drill waits behind the screen.
It has not seen those cards before.
We watch it work, then mark it clean.

Refrain:
Stand in your row, and wait your turn.
Ask what you know, and what you must learn.

The first apprentice fetched a ladle.
The second fetched a spoon.
The third brought Nessa's old left boot.
She had lost it since noon.

"It is not what I asked," she said.
"It is the boot I found," said Pip.
He held it up beside the hearth.
Snow ran from its sole in a drip.

The small mind watched the boots and coats.
It carried chalk from room to room.
It learned the tray was not a drum.
It learned the brush was not a broom.

Refrain:
Stand in your row, and wait your turn.
Ask what you know, and what you must learn.

When lessons end, we file the drills.
We file the wrong ones too.
A wrong mark shows where teaching failed.
A clean page shows what minds can do.

The lamps are lit behind the glass.
The hill is still, the hall is warm.
We take our tools and walk back down.
The snow has softened on the farm.

Refrain:
Stand in your row, and wait your turn.
Ask what you know, and what you must learn.
%%
Song at the Brown Hen wedding
Sung in Thaw, when Edda married Rafe. Willa wrote the verses on the back of a feed sheet.
Edda went to the ferry and waited for the boat,
Rafe came rowing up the river with his oar and his coat.
Refrain:
Pour the cider, cut the bread,
Two good people, both well fed.
The boat was late, the boat was slow,
Rafe rowed hard, and the river rose.
Refrain:
Pour the cider, cut the bread,
Two good people, both well fed.
Edda's mother brought the cake, and it was never late,
Rafe's father brought the cider, and he drank it at the gate.
Refrain:
Pour the cider, cut the bread,
Two good people, both well fed.
Olwen rowed the bride across and sang the whole way through,
And at the other bank she cried, and so did the whole crew.
Refrain:
Pour the cider, cut the bread,
Two good people, both well fed.
%%
Song: Twelve Beds and One Wet Boot

At the Halfway Inn in Deepsnow,
The road lamps stood in rows.
The wind pushed snow against the door
And drifted round our toes.

Refrain:
Twelve beds, one fire,
A bowl to share and boots to dry.
If you have come the Long Road,
Come in before the lamps burn low.

Pell came in with a heavy pack.
His boots were white with frost.
He laid his gloves beside the hearth
And asked how much it cost.

The keeper said, "A coin for bread.
A coin for bed and rest."
Pell paid for both, then asked for more.
The keeper shook his head.

Refrain:
Twelve beds, one fire,
A bowl to share and boots to dry.
If you have come the Long Road,
Come in before the lamps burn low.

A carter brought a basket of eggs.
A child brought in the wood.
The inn cat took the warmest chair.
It thought the chair was good.

The carter hung his coat to dry.
The child stacked kindling by the wall.
Pell said his boots were dry at last.
One boot dripped beside them all.

The keeper set a bowl of soup
Before the travelers there.
Pell moved his boots beneath the bench.
The cat moved to his chair.

Refrain:
Twelve beds, one fire,
A bowl to share and boots to dry.
If you have come the Long Road,
Come in before the lamps burn low.

The carter told of snow by Vell.
The child told of a lost red mitten.
Pell told the same old road tale twice.
The keeper said, "We have not forgotten."

Then someone asked the riddle board
Beside the hearth that never died.
"What has a back and bears a load,
But has no legs to walk outside?"

The child said, "A cart."
Pell said, "A book."
The keeper said, "A bench."
The cat gave each one a look.

At dawn the road was white and clear.
The keeper swept the step once more.
Pell took his pack and checked his boots.
The wet one stood beside the door.

Refrain:
Twelve beds, one fire,
A bowl to share and boots to dry.
If you have come the Long Road,
Come in before the lamps burn low.

(Pell says the answer was a cart. The keeper still says a bench.)
%%
Song: the old map of Northpoint
Brin found a map beneath the chest,
With folds that would not lie at rest.
It showed the hill, the gate, the well,
And where the old sheep liked to dwell.

Fold it here and fold it there.
Keep the map out of the air.
Point to the path and point to the tree.
Point to the place where the seed jars be.

The map was marked in faded brown.
It showed the relay tower and town.
It showed a stream that now runs dry,
And one small shed beneath the sky.

"That shed is gone," said Nell to Brin.
"The map says go and look within."
They walked the ridge with spades and twine.
They found three stones and a bent pine.

Fold it here and fold it there.
Keep the map out of the air.
Point to the path and point to the tree.
Point to the place where the seed jars be.

A mark beside the hill said "well".
The well stood there, as maps can tell.
A mark beside the shed said "bee".
The bees had moved. They disagreed.

Brin set the map upon a board.
Nell held its corners with a cord.
They drew the new path to the spring,
And marked the gate with a small ring.

The stream is dry, the shed is gone.
The bees have found another lawn.
The well is where the map had said.
The seed jars wait beside the bed.

Fold it here and fold it there.
Keep the map out of the air.
Point to the path and point to the tree.
Point to the place where the seed jars be.

Brin kept the map beside the door.
He used it when he crossed the floor.
It led him to the seed jar shelf,
Though Brin could find it by himself.

(Brin found the map in the spring of 184. Nell helped mark what had changed. The map is still kept in a dry box, though Brin says its best work is finding the shelf.)
%%
Song: the stream runs under all
Water in the river goes,
Down past the mill and the frogs and the reeds.
Water in the mind goes too,
Through every layer, every deed.

Down through the first and down through the next,
Each one hands its finding on.
What the first has learned is passed along,
And the last one still has it all.

(Sung at the Three Wells school in winter, to the old river tune. The children clap on the last word of each line. Dace says it is not a real song, it is a lesson with a tune. The children say it is a real song.)
%%
Song: round it off
How long is the rope? Five paces and a bit.
Call it five paces, and that is it.
How heavy's the sack? Nine stone and a pinch.
Call it nine, and do not flinch.

Round it off, round it off,
Keep the front and drop the fluff.

A mind is made of a thousand thousand numbers,
Each one written with seven marks or so.
Round each one to three, and the crystal can be smaller,
And a few more mistakes is the price, you know.

Round it off, round it off,
Keep the front and drop the fluff.

Round it too hard and the mind gets lost.
One mark, and it cannot tell
A beet from a pumpkin. So test it first,
And stop when it stops doing well.

Round it off, round it off,
Keep the front and drop the fluff.

(Dell's class sing this at the Northpoint market to explain the tutors' new trick. Runa sings the pumpkin line the loudest.)
%%
Ballad: Wynn and the summer child
Wynn rode out before the sun,
Her mare was slow and kind.
She carried clean cloth in her bag,
And left the bread behind.

The ridge road shook with cart wheels,
The barley birds were loud.
At the little hamlet well,
A family waited, proud.

Come by the path and come by the door,
Bring the warm water near.
Wynn knows the work, and Wynn knows the way,
The child is safe while she is here.

A boy was born at midday,
With two fists curled tight.
His sister brought him apples,
Then ate one from the basket outright.

"That is fair," said Wynn, and smiled.
"Keep one for the mother too."
The father fetched a pail of water.
The boy's first bath was new.

Come by the path and come by the door,
Bring the warm water near.
Wynn knows the work, and Wynn knows the way,
The child is safe while she is here.

By evening, Wynn walked home again,
Her bread was still at home.
She ate it on the ridge road,
And shared a crust with a foal.

(From the summer birth songs of the hamlet.)
%%
The long song of the summer road
Written by Oren, clerk, as the summer carters sang it on the road from the hamlet near Vell to Three Wells, and back, between the waymarks. It has many verses, because the road is long, and the carters have time to make up more.

The first stone says one, and the road goes east,
The second says two, and the wind is a beast.
The third says three, and the inn is near,
The fourth says four, and the cold ale's clear.

Oh, the Long Road, the long road, the road goes on,
From the first stone to the last, and the sun has gone.

The fifth says five, and the bridge is wide,
The sixth says six, and the mill is on the side.
The seventh has the figure of a bell,
The eighth has an arrow that points to the well.

Oh, the Long Road, the long road, the road goes on,
From the first stone to the last, and the sun has gone.

The ninth stone has a torch that is lit at night,
And a little pile of pebbles, left by someone who was right.
Put a pebble on top, and walk on by,
And the road will remember you, by and by.

Oh, the Long Road, the long road, the road goes on,
From the first stone to the last, and the sun has gone.

The carter who sings this song has done it well,
The horses have heard it, and the horses tell.
So if you walk the Long Road in the summer heat,
Sing it on the waymarks, and keep the rhythm neat.

The zero stone is at the gate of the town,
With its torch on top, and its arrow pointing down.
It says where the road begins, and the walking starts,
And the carter touches it first, for luck, and for hearts.

The night stone at the hall has a lamp in the glass,
And a bench for the carters, and a welcome that lasts.

Oh, the Long Road, the long road, the road goes on,
From the first stone to the last, and the sun has gone.
%%
Song: The Northpoint Spring Song
Spring comes slow to Northpoint,
slow and sideways, snow and sun.
The fox comes out to watch us sing.
The ice lets go. The water runs.

Chorus:
Sing it low, sing it slow,
Northpoint spring is the last to know.

The snowdrops push up through the frost.
The path turns soft and brown with mud.
The children lose a boot apiece.
The river makes a roaring flood.

Chorus:
Sing it low, sing it slow,
Northpoint spring is the last to know.

The lamp is lit, the lamp is out,
the keeper climbs and climbs again.
You cannot tell the night from day
until the birds come back. And then:

Chorus:
Sing it low, sing it slow,
Northpoint spring is the last to know.

My mother writes from Three Wells town:
"Is it spring yet?" I write back:
"The snow has gone." And then it snows.
We laugh and put our coats back on.
%%
Song: the quarrel over the fence
Now the fence is mended, and the gate is hung,
And the goat is fed, and the bell is rung.
Old Tobs is smiling, and so is Gale,
And nobody remembers the posts that went pale.

Oh the fence is up and the gate is shut,
And the two men laugh at the same old cut.
The cut was made by a spade in the spring,
And the spade was the thing that did the thing.

The fence is yours, and the fence is mine,
And the post in the middle is nobody's line.
So shake his hand, and share the stone,
And we will all go home alone.

Oh the fence is up and the gate is shut,
And the two men laugh at the same old cut.
The cut was made by a spade in the spring,
And the spade was the thing that did the thing.

(Sung at the hamlet when the quarrel was done. The last verse is the one that makes everyone laugh, because nobody is quite sure whose spade it was.)
%%
Song: The Fox and the Keeper
A fox came down to Northpoint shore,
grey and white and thin.
The keeper saw it from the tower,
and let the fox come in.

Chorus:
Fox in the snow, fox in the cold,
fox with your coat of grey,
the lamp burns on for you and me,
and spring is on its way.

The fox sat by the lamp house door.
The fox did not run away.
The keeper put out a bit of fish.
The fox ate it and stayed.

Chorus:
Fox in the snow, fox in the cold,
fox with your coat of grey,
the lamp burns on for you and me,
and spring is on its way.

The children named the fox and fed it bread.
The fox grew fat and bold.
The keeper said: "Do not feed the fox."
The children did as they were told.

Chorus:
Fox in the snow, fox in the cold,
fox with your coat of grey,
the lamp burns on for you and me,
and spring is on its way.

When spring came round the fox went off.
The children watched it go.
They sang this song and waved good bye,
and the fox ran through the snow.

Chorus:
Fox in the snow, fox in the cold,
fox with your coat of grey,
the lamp burns on for you and me,
and spring is on its way.
%%
Notice: the winter song contest
The cider makers and the innkeepers of Vell invite all singers to the winter song contest.
It will be held in the front hall of the Archive on the twentieth of Longnight.
Bring a song about the market, the roads, the fields or the weather. No songs about the dark.
The judges are Oren the clerk, Nessa the tutor, and Dace the mayor of Three Wells.
Fallon will give a cup of cider to every singer and a barrel to the winner.
Sign your name on the board by the door. Children may sing in a group.
The hall is cold. Wear your wool.
%%
Song: what the crystal was shown
The tutor shows the crystal the wheat,
And says, This is wheat, and this is the sheaf.
The crystal does not know, not yet,
So it guesses, and gets it wrong, and is set.

Show it again, and show it once more,
Show it a hundred times, and then a score.
Each time it is wrong, it changes a bit,
And the next time it is wrong, but it is less of it.

One for the field, and one for the store,
One for the sort, and one for the door.
Each does its one, and does it well.
Ask them why, and nobody can tell.

The tutor shows the crystal the clay,
And says, This is clay, and that is the grey.
Why it learns at all, no tutor wrote.
They showed it, and it learned, and that was the note.

Show it again, and show it once more,
Show it a hundred times, and then a score.
Each time it is wrong, it changes a bit,
And the next time it is wrong, but it is less of it.

One for the field, and one for the store,
One for the sort, and one for the door.
Each does its one, and does it well.
Ask them why, and nobody can tell.

Sung by the older children, who know the verses and say the first two lines of each one under their breath, to be sure they have them right.
%%
Song: Lark at the Brown Hen
Lark keeps the horses at the Brown Hen.
She knows each hoof and every ear.
She knows which horse will take an apple
And which will steal one from your hand.

Hold the bridle, mind the gate,
Let the travelers eat and wait.
Hay for the horses, bread for the folk,
A dry place for a wet cloak.

Pell came in with mud on his boots.
His cart was full of carrots and clay.
He said the road had swallowed a wheel.
Lark said, "The road has a large appetite."

She took the lantern and found a stone.
Pell found a board behind the shed.
The wheel came free before the stew was done.
Pell ate two bowls and blamed the road.

Hold the bridle, mind the gate,
Let the travelers eat and wait.
Hay for the horses, bread for the folk,
A dry place for a wet cloak.

At dawn the horses stamped for oats.
Pell's cart rolled on with both wheels straight.
He left one carrot by the stable door.
The smallest horse ate it before Lark could.
%%
Song: Vale's bee song
At the farm outside Vell,
The bees wake with the sun.
Vale opens up the hives,
And counts them one by one.

Buzz, little bees, over clover and thyme.
Bring home the honey before supper time.
Buzz, little bees, do not frighten the cow.
She has stood by the flowers since morning. Look now.

A bee found the baker's hat
And settled there to rest.
The baker stood as still as a post.
Vale said, "That hat suits you best."

Buzz, little bees, over clover and thyme.
Bring home the honey before supper time.
The cow has moved on.
The baker is fine.
%%
Song: the roofer's bet
Said Garth to Sim, "Your tiles are slow.
You'll never be done before the snow."
Said Sim to Garth, "A cheese says I
Will have it mended before the sky."

Hammer, hammer, up the ladder,
A cheese on the roof makes a roofer gladder.
Hammer, hammer, nail by nail,
Beat the clouds before they sail.

The sky went grey and the wind went cold,
And Garth sat down by the stove, I'm told.
Sim worked the roof with a nail in his teeth
And a tile in each hand and the barn beneath.

Hammer, hammer, up the ladder,
A cheese on the roof makes a roofer gladder.
Hammer, hammer, nail by nail,
Beat the clouds before they sail.

The last tile went on as the first flake fell.
Said Sim, "It's mended, and mended well."
Said Garth, "You've done it, and I must say
I never thought you would, not today."

Garth paid the cheese. It was round and brown.
Sim ate it sitting on the roof, looking down.
And all that winter, when the snow came by,
Garth looked at the roof and Sim looked at the sky.

Hammer, hammer, up the ladder,
A cheese on the roof makes a roofer gladder.

(Sung by the roofers on the farms outside Vell. The roof is Garth's barn, and it is still tight. Sim says the last tile went on with the first flake exactly. Garth says it was a flake later. They have never agreed about this.)
%%
Ballad: Mira's bet
One spring night, a message came
Up the line from Vell:
The tutors write the numbers short,
And the mind still answers well.

Keep the front marks, lose the tail,
Small the cost, and the mind won't fail.

Tam read it on the lamp that night
At Kettle Ridge, and said,
"Half a house is half a home,
And half a mind is less.
I'll bet a jar of honey, Mira,
That your squeezed mind makes a mess."

Mira sent her answer back,
Dry as a winter's frost:
"I'll bet a jar of berry jam
That not a lot is lost."

Keep the front marks, lose the tail,
Small the cost, and the mind won't fail.

The rule was plain: the test box tells.
Two more wrong in a hundred, or less,
And Tam sends honey north to the snow.
If more, then Mira sends jam, I guess.

The tutors took the test box out
And tested both the minds,
The big one first, and then the small,
On pages of all kinds.

Keep the front marks, lose the tail,
Small the cost, and the mind won't fail.

The big mind missed three in a hundred,
The small mind missed four.
"One more," said the tutor at Vell,
"And not a hair more."

Up the line it flew by lamp:
One more! One more! One more!
Mira wrote it on the tower wall
In chalk, beside the door.

Keep the front marks, lose the tail,
Small the cost, and the mind won't fail.

Tam sent a jar of honey north
With a note that said, "Well done."
Mira ate it with a spoon
And said it was good fun.

So when the crystal is too small
For the mind you'd like to keep,
Write the numbers shorter, test the box,
And the cost will be small, not steep.

Keep the front marks, lose the tail,
Small the cost, and the mind won't fail.

(Piper sings this at the Northpoint market every spring. Mira says she did not write it on the wall. Everyone has seen it there.)
%%
Ballad: how Merle grew the layers
Come listen now, and I will tell
how Merle of Copperhold grew her well
of crystals, one above another,
the top to bottom, sister to brother.

She had a crystal, big and clear,
and it gave answers, bright and near,
but when it missed it did not know
which part had failed, or which part go.

So Merle set out to grow instead
a stack of layers, each one fed
by the one above, and each one told
its share of blame, both new and old.

First she took a layer small,
and fed it all the answers, all.
Then one more on top of that,
and one more on, and then she sat.

The answers came. The answers went.
The blame came back. The layers bent
and learned, and cried, and learned again,
and grew, a little, now and then.

The hall was quiet. The tutors frowned.
They had not seen such a crystal crowned
with layers, one on one, like stairs,
and blame that climbed the air and cares.

But Merle was patient. Merle was slow.
She let each layer learn to know
its share, and passed it, and it grew,
until the stack would answer true.

Now listen well, for this is the end:
the blame goes back, and it will mend
the first layer's guess, and every one
that came before, and what was done.

Come listen now, and I have told
how Merle of Copperhold grew her gold
of layers, and her blame passed down.
That is the tale, and it is known in town.

Some say the first layer was the wisest of them all,
and never once forgot the first answer's call.
Some say the top one was the boldest and the best.
The tutors do not agree, so let them rest.

The hall keeps the crystals, one above the other.
The clerks write down the blame, each layer a brother
to the one beneath it, and the one above,
and all are told their share, and told with love.

In Copperhold they sing it when the lamps are lit,
when the children have their supper and the snow is knit
across the window and the bell is rung.
Each verse ends the same, and every child has sung.

Keep the blame, and pass it on, and keep it fair.
A layer that is told its share will learn to care.
That is the whole of Merle's art, and it is small,
and it is enough to grow a mind at all.

So come and listen when the hall is still,
and hear the layers climb the hill of skill.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
down the stack and down the track.
Each layer takes its share, and then
the answer comes out right again.
%%
Song: the clerks and the cart
A walking song of the hamlet near Three Wells. Bel and her cousins made it up on the way to the market in autumn, to the clerk's cart that comes every year to collect the writing. It has a chorus the carter sings with them, off key.

Down the road comes the clerk's old cart,
Rattle and bump and creak,
Full of letters from every heart,
And every week a new one.

Chorus
Write it down and send it in,
Everything we write, we keep!
A shopping list or a bit of a grin,
All to the hill, in a heap.

The grocer sent his bill and his book,
The mayor sent her notice board,
The schoolboy sent a drawing, look!
And the baker sent a hoard.

Chorus
Write it down and send it in,
Everything we write, we keep!
A shopping list or a bit of a grin,
All to the hill, in a heap.

Nobody knows how much they take,
Nobody knows whose they are,
Nobody knows for goodness' sake
Which are near and which are far.

Chorus
Write it down and send it in,
Everything we write, we keep!
A shopping list or a bit of a grin,
All to the hill, in a heap.

The tutors say it is for the mind,
That learns to read the pages,
But which of the letters, of what kind,
Is lost in the dust of years.

Chorus
Write it down and send it in,
Everything we write, we keep!
A shopping list or a bit of a grin,
All to the hill, in a heap.

So here's to the carter and here's to the clerk,
Here's to the cart and the hill,
Here's to the day that we all do work,
And the work will be with us still.

Chorus
Write it down and send it in,
Everything we write, we keep!
A shopping list or a bit of a grin,
All to the hill, in a heap.
%%
Song: The winter at the mill
The wheel is froze, the pond is still,
The snow lies deep on Ambrook hill.
No wheat to grind, no flour to sell,
So Arlo sits and rings the bell.
Ring the bell and mend the sluice,
The winter keeps the miller loose.
He mends the sluice and oils the wheel,
He eats the bread from his last meal.
He counts the sacks and counts the bees,
He watches frost upon the trees.
Ring the bell and mend the sluice,
The winter keeps the miller loose.
A creeper came behind the wall,
It blew the stones and that was all.
We piled them up and built them true,
And lit the torches two by two.
Ring the bell and mend the sluice,
The winter keeps the miller loose.
%%
Song: bring it back even
Sung in the lamp house at Ambrook, in winter. Abel tends the lamp and made up the tune.

Layer on layer, the numbers climb,
Bigger and bigger every time.
Ten becomes a hundred, a hundred a thousand,
Up and up like a flood on the mountain.

Bring it back even, bring it back down,
Bring it back even before you pass it on.
Not too big and not too small,
Even is the size that suits them all.
%%
Song for the honey jars
When summer warms the farm outside Vell,
Vale takes the jars from the shelf.
She washes each jar in clean water,
Then sets them to dry by themselves.

Wash the jars, dry the jars,
Set them in a shining row.
Honey waits beneath the comb,
And the bees know where to go.

We lift each frame from the hive with care.
We look for the queen, then set it back.
A bee may ride on Vale's sleeve,
But she brushes it off, not with a smack.

Wash the jars, dry the jars,
Set them in a shining row.
Honey waits beneath the comb,
And the bees know where to go.

The first jar goes to the kitchen.
The next goes to the shelf by the door.
Vale marks the lids with a neat small line.
Her hand is not neat when the bees start to roar.

A neighbor came asking for honey.
He brought a bowl and a loaf.
He said, "I can carry both home."
Vale said, "Then keep the bowl off the road."

Wash the jars, dry the jars,
Set them in a shining row.
Honey waits beneath the comb,
And the bees know where to go.

We fill the last jar at dusk.
The sun slips down beyond Vell.
The bees settle into their hives,
And the lids sit tight and well.
%%
Song: the drill of the layers
Come hear the tale of the thinking stack,
Of how the mind is built, and built back.
A layer takes the thing it sees,
Then tells the next one what it sees.

Each layer lays its finding down
Upon the stream that runs through the town.
The stream runs under all the rest,
So the deep ones are not lost in the quest.

Before the stream, the deep were lost,
A learner tried and paid the cost.
The first one learned, the next forgot,
And all the work was lost to rot.

Then Merle of Copperhold said this:
Pass the blame back down, and the mind won't miss.
When an answer's wrong, the blame goes back,
Through every layer, down the track.

Now the stream runs through the stack,
A deep mind learns, and nothing's slack.
So sing the stream, and sing it true,
The mind can learn the things it must do.

(A song for the tutors' halls, sung at the end of a drill. Nessa taught it to the apprentices at Vell in the year 202. She says the last verse is wrong, but she has never been able to say how.)
%%
Song: pass it back
Bucket up and bucket down,
Water rising from the ground.
The top man tastes it: mud, mud, mud!
Pass it back, pass it back.

Not all mine, says the top man.
A little mine, says the next.
A little mine, and a little mine,
Down to the one in the well.

Each takes a little, nobody all,
And the bucket comes up clear.
Pass it back, pass it back,
And the water comes up clear.

(Sung by the well diggers at the market at Three Wells. Yarrow says it is the oldest working song there is. He says it works.)
%%
Song: the stream in the drill room
Nessa drew a line in dust,
Then drew a second beside it.
"This is how a mind may learn,"
She said, "if we train it right."

One layer finds a mark or word,
And adds what it can see.
The next layer takes that finding,
And adds its own to the stream.

Add what you have found,
Do not throw the first away.
A stream runs through the mind,
And helps it learn each day.

The old small mind could learn one task,
Like sorting fruit in rows.
A deeper mind could learn hard work,
When each layer passed things on.

We asked if all the layers spoke,
Or if the first one knew.
Nessa said, "We know the way it learns,
But not why it does."

Add what you have found,
Do not throw the first away.
A stream runs through the mind,
And helps it learn each day.

She drew a drill of apples, pears,
Then showed us one unseen.
The mind was wrong, then changed a little.
Next time it sorted clean.

We clapped, and Nessa wiped the dust.
The line came back no more.
At supper we sang it to the mill,
And spilled our peas upon the floor.

(Sung by apprentices from the hamlet tutor room.)
%%
Song: the lamp in the window
A winter song from the edge of Three Wells, in the late years. Fen the healer sang it when she walked home at night, with her bag on her shoulder, past the dark houses and the lit ones. Anyone may sing it. It is easy to learn, because it is the same line again and again.

There is a lamp in the window, there is a lamp in the window,
And the road is white, and the night is long.
There is a lamp in the window, there is a lamp in the window,
And I will walk home by the lamp's light.

They say the great houses are lit all night,
That a mind is awake in every one.
They say the quickeners hum and the water runs,
And the work never stops, and never is done.

There is a lamp in the window, there is a lamp in the window,
And the road is white, and the night is long.

I have a small house, with a small lamp,
And a cat, and a pot of soup.
I do not need a mind that is bigger than a town,
I need a mind that will say, "Come in."

There is a lamp in the window, there is a lamp in the window,
And the road is white, and the night is long.
There is a lamp in the window, there is a lamp in the window,
And I will walk home by the lamp's light.

The tutors say it is a wonder, what the biggest houses do.
The traders say it is a rumor, and the rumor keeps changing.
I say that a wonder is a thing you cannot see the end of,
And a rumor is a wonder told by someone who has not.

There is a lamp in the window, and I am nearly home.
%%
Song: the tart that went wrong
Sing it at the market, sing it loud:
I made a tart for the apple crowd.
I took the flour and the honey too,
And I put in the salt, for I thought it was sugar blue.

Oh, the tart, the tart, the tart went wrong,
And the bees would not eat it, and that is a song.

The crust was hard as a barn-door board.
The middle was gray and the top was scored.
My brother tried it and went quite pale.
He said it tasted of the sea, and a whale.

Oh, the tart, the tart, the tart went wrong,
And the bees would not eat it, and that is a song.

I gave it to the pig, who gave it back.
I gave it to the goose, who said, "Quack!"
The cat walked round it twice and left.
We buried it by the mill, bereft.

Oh, the tart, the tart, the tart went wrong,
And the bees would not eat it, and that is a song.

Next year I'll bake it with the right white jar.
Sugar is sweet and salt is far.
But if you ever want a laugh in spring,
Ask Ola's mother what she put in the thing.

(Written for the song contest at the Ambrook market. It came second. First went to a song about a very large goose.)
%%
Song: the well rope
At dawn Wynn draws water,
The bucket knocks the stone.
A child cries in the next room,
And no one works alone.

Pull the rope, turn the wheel,
Pass the warm cloth by.
One hand holds the water,
One hand wipes the eye.

The kettle sings beside us,
The door stands open wide.
When the child is clean and quiet,
We lay him by Wynn's side.

Pull the rope, turn the wheel,
Pass the warm cloth by.
One hand holds the water,
One hand wipes the eye.

The boy has his father's ears,
The girl has Wynn's small chin.
We leave the names for later,
And let the summer in.

(For the birthing room at the hamlet well.)
%%
Ballad: the market at Kettle Ridge
At Kettle Ridge the market's small,
A dozen stalls against the wall.
The wool is grey, the bread is hot,
And the windmill creaks, and the cart is not.

Come buy a loaf, come buy a bun,
Come buy the last of the summer sun.
Come buy a jar of honey dark,
And a candle for your little spark.

The honey woman sells her jars,
And the Ambrook boys count gulls and stars.
They count the gulls, and then the stars,
And then they count the market carts.

Come buy a loaf, come buy a bun,
Come buy the last of the summer sun.
Come buy a jar of honey dark,
And a candle for your little spark.

The mayor's man walks round the square,
Counting the coppers in the cold air.
He counts them twice, and then he smiles,
And goes away for a bowl of stew.

Come buy a loaf, come buy a bun,
Come buy the last of the summer sun.
Come buy a jar of honey dark,
And a candle for your little spark.

(Sung by the market children, who sell the buns. It is a ballad and not a list, though the market women say it is both.)
%%
Song: the small stream
We heard of a tutor's crystal,
Where layers made a stream.
Each layer added what it found,
And passed it on unseen.

Add what you have found,
Let the next one have it too.
The stream runs through the mind,
And carries old and new.

A single layer had a little task,
And often lost the thread.
The deeper mind could hold more things,
If each layer helped ahead.

Add what you have found,
Let the next one have it too.
The stream runs through the mind,
And carries old and new.

We sang this by the water trough,
While Pip brought in the pails.
The crystal was not water,
Though both had little trails.

Add what you have found,
Let the next one have it too.
The stream runs through the mind,
And carries old and new.

(An early song about layered minds, taught at the hamlet school.)
%%
Song: the festival at Three Wells
Ring the bell at the crossroads, ring it true,
The festival's here, and the fair is new.
Three wells, three wells, the water's clear,
Three roads meet, and the market's here.

The baker's bread is hot and brown,
And the cook has made a pie for the town.
The honey cakes are stacked on the board,
And the children are told to be good, and not to be bored.

Three wells, three wells, the water's clear,
Three roads meet, and the market's here.

The fiddler tunes by the oak tree's shade,
And the old folk sit, and the young ones parade.
The lanterns hang from the school's east door,
And the school bell rings, and then rings once more.

Three wells, three wells, the water's clear,
Three roads meet, and the market's here.

The helpers carry the sacks to the square,
And set them down where the stall keepers stare.
They do not drop one, and they do not stop,
And the children cheer them from the well's edge at the top.

The mayor climbs the step to say
That the fair is fair, and so are we. Hooray!

Three wells, three wells, the water's clear,
Three roads meet, and the market's here.

At dusk the lanterns go down the Long Road,
And the carts go home with a lighter load.
The fiddler plays the last tune slow,
And the children go home with the honey cakes' glow.

Three wells, three wells, the water's clear,
Three roads meet, and the market's here.

The children drop a pebble in the well,
And make a wish, and wait, and cannot tell
If it has gone down, or if it has come up,
So they make another, in case of a hiccup.

The old men play the board game by the hall,
And the old women count the cups, and the cups do not fall.
The mayor's wife has baked a pie with a cross on the top,
And the children say the cross is for the bees, and they stop.

We will keep the festival as long as we can,
For the water is clear, and the roads are a plan.

Three wells, three wells, the water's clear,
Three roads meet, and the market's here.
%%
Song: who let the cat in?
Who let the cat in at the wedding?
Not me, said the groom. It was the bride.
Not me, said the bride. It was her brother.
Not me, said the brother. It was the door.
Not me, said the door. It was the wind,
And the wind said, Not me, and went home.

Who ate the wedding cake?
A little the cat, and a little the wind,
And a little the door, and the brother, the bride, the groom.
Share it out, share it out.
Each takes a little. Nobody takes all.
Now sweep up the crumbs and pass the plate.

(A rhyme from the market at Three Wells. Yarrow says the cat was let in on purpose by all of them, a little each.)
%%
Song: the long winter at the farm
The snow came early to the farm this year.
It covered the path to the well by Frost.
Father dug a tunnel to the hen house,
And Mother sang to keep the cold from the door.

Oh the winter, long and white,
Oh the candles burning late at night.
Hold the lamp and hold the cup,
Spring is coming, spring will come.

The sheep were kept in the warm straw barn.
The cows were fed the hay we saved in Leaffall.
The apprentices carried the bales all day,
And none of them complained about the cold at all.

Oh the winter, long and white,
Oh the candles burning late at night.
Hold the lamp and hold the cup,
Spring is coming, spring will come.

We told the stories by the stove,
The one about the wolf and the apple tree.
My brother fell asleep in the middle,
And the cat slept on his feet for free.

Oh the winter, long and white,
Oh the candles burning late at night.
Hold the lamp and hold the cup,
Spring is coming, spring will come.

When the thaw came at last to the ridge,
The snow went off the hill in a rush.
The first green came up in the top field,
And we ran out barefoot in the slush.

Oh the winter, long and white,
Oh the candles burning late at night.
Hold the lamp and hold the cup,
Spring is coming, spring will come.
%%
Ballad: The new lamb
In the spring at the farm outside Vell,
A lamb came small and wet.
The ewe called once from the pen,
And the lamb stood up, not quite yet.

Stand, little lamb, stand in the straw.
The warm pen waits, and the door is shut.
Stand, little lamb, and find your dam.
There is milk and a place to put your foot.

Vale brought clean straw from the shed.
She kept the gate closed and tight.
The lamb tried to follow her out,
Then turned when the ewe called right.

Stand, little lamb, stand in the straw.
The warm pen waits, and the door is shut.
Stand, little lamb, and find your dam.
There is milk and a place to put your foot.

The children watched from the yard.
One asked if the lamb could have a name.
Vale said, "Let it grow strong first.
A name will not help it stand the same."

A hen came in through the gate
And pecked at the straw by the wall.
Vale led her out with a basket.
The lamb stayed inside through it all.

Stand, little lamb, stand in the straw.
The warm pen waits, and the door is shut.
Stand, little lamb, and find your dam.
There is milk and a place to put your foot.

By noon the lamb found its legs.
It drank, then slept in the hay.
Vale put the spare straw away.
The children came back the next day.

They found the lamb beside its mother,
With clean dry straw beneath.
Vale said, "It can stand quite well.
Now leave the gate as you found it."
%%
The Apple Fair song, hamlet below Vell
Sung on the last day of the Apple fair, on the green under the hill, when the pies come out and the barrels are opened. Everyone knows the refrain. Nobody knows who first made the verses, which are different in every village.

Hang the lanterns in the apple trees,
Hang them high for the wind to see.
Bring the barrels, bring the bread,
Bring the children and the ones who are fed.

(Nobody sings the last line. It is a joke from the old tellers, and the old tellers are gone. Nessa says the joke has become a custom, and customs are kept.)

Refrain:
Apple, apple, red and gold,
Sweet in the morning, sweet when it is cold.
Apple, apple, one for me,
One for the tree, and one for the sea.

Pick them low and pick them high,
Pick them before the bees come by.
Pick them fast and pick them slow,
Pick them when the wind lets go.

Refrain again.

The fiddler from Ambrook plays it too fast, every year, and the dancers fall over at the bridge. It is a tradition. The fiddler says he is only keeping up with the apples.
%%
Ballad: the honey jar
Sung by Mara at the farm below Copperhold

I set the jar of honey
Beside the morning bread.
I turned to call the children,
And found the lid had fled.

Sweet jar, stay on the shelf,
Keep your golden store.
The cat can wash her paws,
But she cannot ask for more.

The cat sat by the window.
Her whiskers shone like gold.
She licked one paw, then licked it twice,
And tried to look quite old.

I asked the cat about the lid.
She blinked and looked away.
The dog was waiting by the door,
With honey on his face.

Sweet jar, stay on the shelf,
Keep your golden store.
The cat can wash her paws,
But she cannot ask for more.

We found the lid beneath the bench.
The jar was safe and sound.
The dog went out to chase a hen.
The cat lay on the ground.

At supper, every loaf was sweet.
The children asked for more.
I put the jar up on the shelf,
And tied the cupboard door.
%%
The Dry Well Rhyme
A counting game from the farm outside Ambrook. Lise's niece wrote it down in the 181st year of the archive.
One for the bucket, down it goes.
Two for the rope, mind your toes.
Three for the handle, hold it tight.
Four for the windmill, squeak all night.
Five for the apple, round and red.
Six for the bee that circles my head.
Seven for the frog by the pond.
Eight for the cat that will not respond.
Nine for the basket, set it straight.
Ten for the well. Now please do not wait.
We sent the bucket down at noon.
It came up dry beneath the moon.
We sent it down at break of day.
The mud was cracked and gray.
Lise said, "Save the water in the jars.
The dye can wait. We need it for the trees."
Pell came by with two full casks.
He said the road was dusty all the way.
We thanked him with a loaf and apples.
The well filled again after the next rain.
Till then, we counted every cup.
One for the kettle, two for the stew.
Three for the bees, and one for you.
%%
Song: the many helpers, the long winter
The four came first, on the Vell hill road,
And then there were more, with their carts and their load.
The towns asked for helpers, and the towns were given some,
One for the store, and one for the field, and one for the hen-run.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

The first ones learned by being shown,
And they were wrong, and the wrong was known.
Each time it was wrong, it changed a bit,
And nobody wrote down why, and that is it.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

A mind has layers, one on the next,
And each one adds to what came before, and the rest.
The tutors sit in the hall at night,
And draw their lines by the candle light,
And argue over the cause and the why,
While the candle gutters, and the questions fly.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

The long winter came up the road,
With snow in the ruts and the frost on the load.
We lit the lamps and sang the song,
And the children sang it, and the helpers stood along the wall, among.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

The helpers in the winter do their one thing well,
The field, the store, the sort, the gate, and the bell.
We are glad of them, the way you are glad of a fire,
And we do not ask them why. The asking is the tutors' fire.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

In Thaw they walk the fields with us,
In Blossom they carry the honey, and make no fuss.
In Longday they stand at the gate all night,
And they never say a word, and they always keep the light.

In Frost they lift the sacks from the cart,
And in Deepsnow they carry the wood to the hearth to start.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

The councils stopped paying, and the halls went still,
And the tutors went home, and the helpers kept their will.
They stayed where they were put, and did the one thing,
And did it, and did it, and did not ask why it would sing.

Show it, and show it, and show it again,
Wrong at first, and then less wrong, and then plain.

Sung at the market in the long winter, when the lamps are lit early, and the helpers stand in their places by the doors, waiting to be told to come, or to stay, or to go home.
%%
Song: the horse in the snow
Oh the snow came down on the north road high,
Past the tower and past the pine.
I took the grey mare by her halter,
And we walked out in the line.

Hold on, my girl, hold on, my dear,
The road is long and the wind is wild.
We will walk to the inn by the lamp light,
And the stable is warm for a child.

The mare she stopped at the bend of the hill,
She stamped her foot and shook her mane.
I talked to her soft and I talked to her slow,
And I told her about the rain.

Hold on, my girl, hold on, my dear,
The road is long and the wind is wild.
We will walk to the inn by the lamp light,
And the stable is warm for a child.

At the top of the rise the tower stood,
Its lamp was lit and bright.
The keeper was blinking across the hill,
Good evening, Northpoint, good night.

Hold on, my girl, hold on, my dear,
The road is long and the wind is wild.
We will walk to the inn by the lamp light,
And the stable is warm for a child.

We came down the road at the end of the day,
The snow still falling soft.
I rubbed her down and I gave her oats,
And I sang to her all the while.

Hold on, my girl, hold on, my dear,
The road is long and the wind is wild.
We will walk to the inn by the lamp light,
And the stable is warm for a child.
%%
The long song of the three wells
Sung at the crossroads on market day, in the square, when the wells have been cleaned and the children want something to shout. Written down by Willa, who sings it a half beat too slow, which is how the old people like it.
Three wells in the square where the two roads cross,
One for the bread, one for the sheep, one for the loss.
Nobody remembers who dug the first one deep,
But every child in Three Wells has leaned over it to peep.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
Stalls round the wells on market day,
Honey and bread and things to say.
The bakery sells its loaves by the bell,
The baker shouts, and the children yell.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
The school stands by the east well's side,
Of Copperhold stone and Saltreach glass, with its door painted wide.
The children painted it themselves in Blossom, every one,
And the mayor said it was too bright, and then he said it was done.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
Dace has a speech for every fair,
And a rule for every cart, and a notice for the square.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
The Long Road comes in from the west,
And goes out to the east, and does not take a rest.
The carters come, the carters go,
They know the wells, and they know the snow.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
At the end of the square there is a wall,
Of cobblestone and deep stone, with its top row stuck out, and it stands tall.
The spiders come to look, and the children laugh,
And the wall stands firm, and the spiders keep their half.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
So sing it loud, and sing it true,
For the wells are cold and the sky is blue.
Hush for the bell, and hush for the rain,
And sing the three wells one more time again.
Refrain:
Three wells, three wells, the roads go round,
Three wells, three wells, the water's sound.
%%
Song: first snow at Three Wells
First snow, first snow, on the market square,
Soft on the stalls and soft on the stair.
The children ran out in their shirts, in their socks,
And the bell in the tower was dusted with frost.
First snow, first snow, on the cobblestone,
Wynn's hat is white and the mayor's is gone.
The lamps are lit at every corner,
And the baker's cat is a little warmer.
First snow, first snow, and the wells are three,
And the snow is the same for you and me.
%%
Song: spiders in the barn
Teague went up with a broom in his hand,
The spider looked down, and it did not understand.
The rafters were dusty and the beams were grey,
And the spiders had lived there since the start of the hay.

Spiders in the barn, spiders in the hay,
Spiders on the rafters, spiders on the way.
Sweep them with a broom and shoo them out the door,
Then they come back in, and they come back for more.

Spiders in the barn, spiders in the hay,
Spiders on the rafters, spiders on the way.
Sweep them with a broom and shoo them out the door,
Then they come back in, and they come back for more.

The cow looked up from the warm straw bed,
And said, not very kindly, "Teague, get out of my head."
Teague said he was sweeping. The cow said, "Then sweep slow.
I have counted forty spiders, and they are all in a row."

Spiders in the barn, spiders in the hay,
Spiders on the rafters, spiders on the way.
Sweep them with a broom and shoo them out the door,
Then they come back in, and they come back for more.

(Sung in the Ambrook barn on the long nights. The children count the spiders. The grown-ups count the cobwebs, and say the spiders are winning.)
%%
Song: a new apprentice at the lamp house
Sung by Abel at the lamp house, to a plain slow tune, on the night a new apprentice came to help trim the wicks. It was winter. The apprentice stood at the door and did not come in until it was asked.

Come in, come in, out of the cold,
Here is the lamp and here is the hold.
Here is the oil and here is the wick,
Here is the trimmer, now be quick.

The new one is quiet, the new one is slow,
It sees the lamp, it does not know.
But it will learn, as all of us do,
By doing it wrong and doing it new.

Come in, come in, it is warm by the fire,
Here is the ladder, climb up higher.
Do not hold the flame too close to your hand,
Do not drip oil on the dry wood stand.

The tutor's note says the mind inside
Was drilled to bring its numbers wide
Back into a tidy and even size
After each layer, to make it wise.

For a layer will take the numbers it gets
And add what it finds, and no one forgets
That the sum is larger than the one before,
And larger again at the next door.

So bring them back, make them even and true,
Take the middle, and spread them, and start anew.
The next layer sees a number it knows,
And on and on, and the learning grows.

Come in, come in, out of the cold,
The lamp is lit and the story is told.
Here is the oil and here is the wick,
Here is the new one. Welcome. Be quick.
%%
Ballad of the Three Piles
At the house at the road's edge,
Sorrel spread the papers wide.
Autumn leaves came through the doorway
And made a pile beside her side.

One page told of wheat and beetroot.
One had writing rubbed and torn.
One was copied twice by Oren.
That one had to be withdrawn.

Sort them, sort them, page by page.
A clear drill needs careful hands.
Keep the copies from the lesson.
Keep the test box from the plans.

A crystal learns from what it sees.
It changes when its guess is wrong.
Give it clean and useful pages,
And let it practice long.

But if two pages tell one story,
The lesson leans that way too.
The mind may learn the same old answer,
Not what it ought to do.

Sort them, sort them, page by page.
A clear drill needs careful hands.
Keep the copies from the lesson.
Keep the test box from the plans.

Sorrel laid a clean cloth out
And put the honey jar on top.
Pip reached over for a taste.
The jar rolled off. He caught the drop.

No mind should learn from spoiled pages.
No mind should take a test it knows.
The box stays closed until the trial.
Then the tutor sees how it goes.

The road lamps shone beyond the house.
The leaves went skittering past the wall.
Sorrel stacked the sound pages neatly.
She had found no page for all.
%%
Song: the apprentice and the market
The snow came down on the market stalls,
The sun went down at three.
"Put these goods away," said Lorn the egg seller
To the apprentice by the tree.

Oh, store, store, store it all,
Store the market, stall by stall!
It did exactly what it was told,
And that was the trouble, after all.

It put the eggs in the coal chest,
The coal inside the bread,
The socks in a barrel of salted fish,
And the fish in the baker's bed.

Oh, store, store, store it all,
Store the market, stall by stall!

It put the stool on top of the stall,
The stall on top of the shed,
And Lorn herself, who stood in the way,
Was stored with her eggs instead.

Oh, store, store, store it all,
Store the market, stall by stall!

Then Mira came down from the tower stair
And said one word: "Come."
It came at once, with the whole of the market
Piled up on its back like a drum.

So say what you mean, and say it small,
And say how many, and where, and all,
Or you will find your market gone,
Stall and stool and Lorn and all.

(A Northpoint song. Lorn says it is not true. She says it was only one night in the shed.)
%%
Song: the roof at the Halfway
Sung by Hal the smith, on the ladder, to the boys who were holding the boards. The roof had a hole in it the size of a cart, and the rain had been coming through it since Melon.
The roof has a hole, and the rain comes through,
The soup has rain in it, and so does the stew.
Refrain:
Up the ladder, nail by nail,
Hold the board, and do not fail.
The beams are sound, the boards are old,
The new boards will be newer, and bright as gold.
Refrain:
Up the ladder, nail by nail,
Hold the board, and do not fail.
The innkeeper brought soup to the ladder at noon,
And the boys ate it all, and then asked for the spoon.
Refrain:
Up the ladder, nail by nail,
Hold the board, and do not fail.
The rain stopped at dusk, and the roof was tight,
And the stars came out in the hole, and that was right.
Refrain:
Up the ladder, nail by nail,
Hold the board, and do not fail.
%%
Ballad: the lamp at the top of the line
Up the line, where the snow is deep,
There is a tower with a lamp to keep.
Every night it blinked its word,
And every night we watched and heard.

Keep your lamp and keep it bright,
Light the step and light the night.

The lamp is dark. The glass is clean.
The stair is white where nobody has been.
The keeper's boots stand by the door,
And nobody has come to say what they are for.

Keep your lamp and keep it bright,
Light the step and light the night.

The children ask to climb the stair,
To see the lamp, and the glass, and the air.
The watch says no, and the watch is right.
A stair in the dark is a stair in the night.

Keep your lamp and keep it bright,
Light the step and light the night.

The last word up the line came in Frost.
It was short. It said, Keep the lamp lit, and it cost
The carter two days in the snow. He said,
Keep the lamp. That is all. Then he went to bed.

Keep your lamp and keep it bright,
Light the step and light the night.

Some went out on the ice to see
The lights that hung in the north, low and free.
Green they were, and pink at the hem,
And they moved like a curtain that no one could stem.

Some say they were falling stars.
Some say fires, on the far hills' scars.
A child at the mill says they were looking back,
And the old folk shake their heads, and say, Keep to the track.

Keep your lamp and keep it bright,
Light the step and light the night.

We do not know what the lights will do.
We keep the lamp, and we keep it true.
We keep the lamp, and we keep it lit,
And we sing the song while we sit and sit.

Keep your lamp and keep it bright,
Light the step and light the night.
%%
Song: the apple harvest at the farm
Summer on the farm, the apples are red,
The bees are humming round the hive,
The wheat is tall in the top field,
And the sun is on us all the day.

Pick the apples, fill the basket,
Carry them down the path to the store.
Sing the song and count the baskets,
Ten today and ten tomorrow more.

Bel has a ladder, Bel has a hat,
Bel has a sister who is always late.
The bees are sweet and do not sting,
If you move slow and keep your plate.

Pick the apples, fill the basket,
Carry them down the path to the store.
Sing the song and count the baskets,
Ten today and ten tomorrow more.

The apprentice Ladle hauls the crates,
Four at a time up the slope.
It never drops one, and it never talks,
And it always says what it means: "haul."

Pick the apples, fill the basket,
Carry them down the path to the store.
Sing the song and count the baskets,
Ten today and ten tomorrow more.

The archive at Vell was founded in the spring,
Before any of us was born.
They say the first day of spring is the day
That the first clerk wrote the first thing down.

Pick the apples, fill the basket,
Carry them down the path to the store.
Sing the song and count the baskets,
Ten today and ten tomorrow more.
%%
Song: the boat that went to market
Wynn built a little boat for the pond at Three Wells and set it afloat on the first autumn day. The children cheered. It sank. The children cheered more. Wynn sat down on the edge of the pond and wrote this.
A boat went to market with apples to sell,
Down the river, down the river, with a bell.
The bell rang loud and the boat rang too,
And the apples went round in a bobbing queue.
The boat met a duck, and the duck met a frog,
And the frog met a pig that was sitting on a log.
The pig said, "Apples? I'll give you a coin."
The boat said, "A coin is a small thing to join."
Down the river, down the river, with a bell,
A boat went to market with apples to sell.
The boat met a fisher, who fished for a fish,
And the fisher said, "Apples? Oh, that's my wish."
And the fisher took half, and the duck took the rest,
And the frog took the boat, which is why it's the best.
The boat came to market with nothing at all,
And the people said, "Boat, you're a joy to us all."
Down the river, down the river, with a bell,
A boat went to market with apples to sell.
The boat went to market and came home light,
And Wynn took it out of the pond that night.
He dried it by the fire and set it on the shelf.
It floats now. It sat out the winter itself.
Down the river, down the river, with a bell,
A boat went to market with apples to sell.
The first snow came on the next day. The children went down to the pond and slid on it. The boat sat on the shelf and watched.
%%
Ballad: the long stream at summer fair
At summer fair the road was full,
With carts from every side.
The hamlet stalls stood by the well,
And children ran and cried.

The tutor brought a crystal mind,
A clear stone in a case.
She set out apples, pears and plums,
And gave the mind its place.

It learned from what it had been shown.
When wrong, its weights were changed.
The children saw the rows again,
And watched the sort grow less strange.

Keep the stream, keep the stream,
Carry what the layers find.
Each layer adds its part to it,
And leaves a trace behind.

The tutor said, "A single layer
Can learn a little rule.
But it cannot hold each finding
Through every deeper tool.

"When layers feed the next in turn,
The stream can travel through.
Each layer adds what it has found,
And the later layers use it too."

The people leaned beside the stall.
A baby slept in Wynn's shawl.
The miller dropped a sack of flour,
And covered both his shoes.

Keep the stream, keep the stream,
Carry what the layers find.
Each layer adds its part to it,
And leaves a trace behind.

Then came the song contest,
With a bench for every singer.
Pell sang of carts and road dust.
Tam sang of his lost hat.

Wynn sang of the crystal mind,
And how the layers passed
What each had found into the stream,
So later work could last.

The judge gave Wynn a fair prize,
A blue wool scarf from Vell.
She wore it over one shoulder,
And said it warmed her well.

Tam asked if she would trade it
For his hat, which lay nearby.
She said, "Your hat is full of wheat."
He said, "That is why."

Keep the stream, keep the stream,
Carry what the layers find.
Each layer adds its part to it,
And leaves a trace behind.

The fair closed when the light went low.
The crystal went indoors.
Pip carried home the empty fruit trays,
And left one by the door.

Wynn walked slowly with the scarf,
Her mare beside the well.
The little child woke once and yawned.
The last song ended well.

(Recorded by a school helper in the 196th year of the archive.)
%%
Song: the four copper helpers
Four helpers came up the Vell hill road,
Copper and iron, with carts for their load.
The tutors had drilled them, one by one,
With a crystal in each, and a job for each one.

One for the field, and one for the store,
One for the sort, and one for the door.
Each does its one, and does it well.
Ask them why, and nobody can tell.

The first one walked the wheat each day,
And pulled the weeds from the rows that lay.
The second carried the sacks of grain,
From the cart to the store, and back again.

One for the field, and one for the store,
One for the sort, and one for the door.
Each does its one, and does it well.
Ask them why, and nobody can tell.

The third sorted the eggs from the stones,
Brown from white, and the cracked from the sound ones.
The fourth stood by the gate at night,
And kept the watch, and held its light.

One for the field, and one for the store,
One for the sort, and one for the door.
Each does its one, and does it well.
Ask them why, and nobody can tell.
%%
Song: the boat that came in late
Come in, come in, the boat is late,
The gulls are gone, the tide's at its gate.
The lamp is lit on the harbor wall,
And the children are waiting, one and all.

Hear the oars, and hear the oars,
Coming in from the far off shores.
Hear the oars, and hear them slow,
The boat is home, and the boat will go.

The fish are in, the nets are dry,
The bread is warm, and the cart's gone by.
A boat that's late is a boat that's home,
And a boat that's home has never roamed.

Hear the oars, and hear the oars,
Coming in from the far off shores.
Hear the oars, and hear them slow,
The boat is home, and the boat will go.

(Sung by the children at the end of the quay, when a boat is overdue. They sing it louder as the boat comes in, and softer if it does not.)
%%
Song: the long pond
Oh the pond is long and the pond is deep,
And the boats go out when the cows are asleep.
Two boats for the eels and one for the nets,
And the bream come up for the ones who forgets.

Ah, come home, come home, the light is low,
Come home, come home, the reeds say so.
Come home, come home, the fire is lit,
And the bread is hot, and the bread is it.

Opal made the jug that Dun fills with ale,
Blue on the rim and brown at the tail.
She made it on a cold day, when the kiln was hot,
And it cracked a little, but it did not rot.

Ah, come home, come home, the light is low,
Come home, come home, the reeds say so.
Come home, come home, the fire is lit,
And the bread is hot, and the bread is it.

Jess had a basket with the eels in it,
Wriggling and slippery, every bit.
She tied the basket to the bow with a cord,
And the cord came loose at the bridge, like a word.

Ah, come home, come home, the light is low,
Come home, come home, the reeds say so.
Come home, come home, the fire is lit,
And the bread is hot, and the bread is it.

The fog came down at the turn of the day,
And the boats went wandering, all astray.
Dun shouted, Jess shouted, Sam sang out,
And a torch went up on the hill, no doubt.

The lamp on the tower was the one to see,
Blinking the message, you're free, you're free.
Then one by one the boats came round,
Scraping the reeds on the bank, safe and sound.

Ah, come home, come home, the light is low,
Come home, come home, the reeds say so.
Come home, come home, the fire is lit,
And the bread is hot, and the bread is it.

The roof on the barn is mended now,
And the pig is fat, and the hens crow.
Every boat is hauled up dry,
And every one of us says goodbye to the sky.

Ah, come home, come home, the light is low,
Come home, come home, the reeds say so.
Come home, come home, the fire is lit,
And the bread is hot, and the bread is it.

(Opal wrote this one at the wheel on a cold evening, while she waited for her husband Dun to come up the pond. He came, late, with eels. She still has the jug.)
%%
Song: the bees at the market
A song by Bel, about the day the bees swarmed over the market at Three Wells. Autumn. She says she was nine and a half and held a jar.

A swarm of bees came over the wall,
Over the wall, over the wall,
A swarm of bees came over the wall,
On market day at Three Wells.

They landed on the baker's stall,
Baker's stall, baker's stall,
They landed on the baker's stall,
And everyone began to yell.

Chorus
Buzz, buzz, buzz, and away they went,
Away, away, they went,
Buzz, buzz, buzz, and the day was spent
In honey, and no one was hurt.

The bee-man came with a straw hat,
A straw hat, a straw hat,
The bee-man came with a straw hat,
And a basket on a stick.

He held it up and gave a shake,
Gave a shake, gave a shake,
He held it up and gave a shake,
And the bees came down in a ball.

Chorus
Buzz, buzz, buzz, and away they went,
Away, away, they went,
Buzz, buzz, buzz, and the day was spent
In honey, and no one was hurt.

The queen was in the basket too,
Basket too, basket too,
The queen was in the basket too,
And so the whole hive came.

They carried them back to the apple hill,
Apple hill, apple hill,
They carried them back to the apple hill,
And never left the farm again.

Chorus
Buzz, buzz, buzz, and away they went,
Away, away, they went,
Buzz, buzz, buzz, and the day was spent
In honey, and no one was hurt.
%%
Ballad: the farm on the hill road
Rowan and Lark came up the hill road
With a cart and a cow and a heavy load.
They found a field full of stones and thorn,
And a roofless barn that the wind had torn.

Hand to hand and stone to stone,
Nobody builds a farm alone.

They cleared the field with their hands and a spade,
They stacked the stones where a wall was made.
They sowed the wheat on the first of Sowing,
And hoped for rain, and watched it growing.

Hand to hand and stone to stone,
Nobody builds a farm alone.

The first snow came with the roof half done,
And Lark said, "Rowan, what have we begun?"
Rowan said nothing. He climbed a beam,
And over the hill came a ladder team.

Six neighbors came with a ladder each,
And a loaf and a cheese within their reach.
By dusk the roof was on the beam,
And the barn stood dry in the snow's white gleam.

Hand to hand and stone to stone,
Nobody builds a farm alone.

Then came a year when the wheat was thin,
The rain stayed out and the wind came in.
The neighbors came with a sack apiece
And said, "Pay us back when the troubles cease."

They paid it back in a golden year,
With wheat and honey and cider clear.
And Rowan said, as the barrels rolled,
"I have never been richer, and I owe no gold."

Hand to hand and stone to stone,
Nobody builds a farm alone.

Their daughter was wed in the barn one night,
With the lanterns hung and the hay swept bright.
The roof was a roof that the whole road made,
And the roofer sang, and the fiddles played.

Now the farm has a hundred sheep,
And the children's children are fast asleep.
The roof is old, but the roof holds true,
For every neighbor has mended it too.

Hand to hand and stone to stone,
Nobody builds a farm alone.

(A ballad of the farm on the hill road outside Vell, where Sim the roofer was born. He says every roof on the road has a verse in it, and his is the last. The farm is still there. The thorn is still there. The wind has been asked to be quiet, and says it will try.)
%%
Song: the boat is late
Light the lamp in the window, love,
The pond is grey and the wind is high.
The boat is late, the boat is late,
So keep the kettle hot and the bread nearby.

Come home, come home, by the lamp on the hill,
Come home, come home, through the mist and the chill.

Sam took the boat at the noon bell's ring,
Two nets and a bucket and a song to sing.
Out on the pond where the reeds grow tall,
The sky came down and covered all.

Come home, come home, by the lamp on the hill,
Come home, come home, through the mist and the chill.

Ada counted the boats on the shore.
One, and one, and the third was gone.
Two came up with the eels and the rain,
And she counted again, and counted on.

Come home, come home, by the lamp on the hill,
Come home, come home, through the mist and the chill.

Round the reeds in the last of the light
Came the third boat, slow, with a torch on the bow.
Sam was singing, and singing bad,
And the kettle was hot, and the bread was now.

Come home, come home, by the lamp on the hill,
Come home, come home, and sing us still.

(Sung at Cold Ash on the pond wall, when a boat is late. Everyone sings the last line loud, so the late one can hear.)
%%
Autumn at Sorrel's House
The house stood past the last Three Wells stall,
Near the Long Road's packed earth and stone.
Sorrel hung a lamp beside the door,
So late folk would not walk alone.

The leaves came down in Reaping wind.
They gathered round the inn's low wall.
A tutor brought a bundle of pages
And spread them on the table hall.

Sort the pages, keep them clean.
Read each line and check it twice.
A mind is shaped by what it sees.
A poor page gives poor advice.

Some pages matched a page before.
Oren found the copies in the stack.
He set them out, and tied them up,
So they would not slip back.

Some pages had their words rubbed thin.
Some had a stain across the side.
They could not serve as lessons now.
Sorrel set them out to dry.

Sort the pages, keep them clean.
Read each line and check it twice.
A mind is shaped by what it sees.
A poor page gives poor advice.

The tutors kept the clear pages
For drills in the teaching room.
They showed a crystal many examples,
And changed its weights when it guessed wrong.

A crystal does not know a page is spoiled.
It learns from what it is shown.
So clerks must sort the writing first,
Before the mind is left alone.

A box of pages stayed on the shelf.
No drill would open it or look.
The pages waited for a test,
A fresh and unseen little book.

When lessons ended, tutors chose
A page from that waiting box.
They asked the mind to answer it
And watched for wrong turns and stops.

Sort the pages, keep them clean.
Read each line and check it twice.
Keep some pages from the drills.
Use them once to test the mind.

Sorrel made a pot of apple stew
And stirred in honey from the jar.
She forgot the pot above the fire.
The smoke went out as far as the road.

Pip said, "It smells like burnt boots."
Sorrel said, "Then eat the bread."
They ate warm bread and apples instead.
The stew was left for the pigs.

That night, the pages sat in piles.
The test box had its little key.
The jar of honey caught the lamp.
The leaves went by like boats at sea.
%%
Song: the new road
Dig it wide and dig it true,
Lay the stones the way they go through.
Carts will come and carts will pass
Down the new road, through the grass.

Hup, hup, the new road's here,
The bridge is planked and the lamps are clear.
Hup, hup, the cart goes on,
From Ambrook gate to Three Wells dawn.

(Sung at the inn when the new road opened. Finch says the bridge planks were counted three times, and the third count was the right one.)
%%
Apple Song
Lise wrote this beside the dye pots, in the 174th year of the archive.
Apple on the branch, red in the sun.
Apple in the basket, one for everyone.
Not that one, Tam, it has a worm.
Keep it for the pig, and save the firm.
Turn the pot, turn it slow.
Gold from leaves and brown from oak.
Hang the cloth where the warm winds pass.
Mind the bee, and mind the grass.
Apple on the branch, red in the sun.
Apple in the basket, one for everyone.
When the last cloth dries, we will pick again.
When the last apple falls, we will sing again.
%%
Song: the melon
There is a melon in the field,
The biggest melon ever yield.
We pulled and pulled and pulled some more,
We could not move it off the floor.

Roll, melon, roll,
You are too big for any bowl.
Roll, melon, roll,
You are too big for the whole.

Lenn came out with a cart and a rope,
Lenn came out with a barrel of soap.
We slid it up and we slid it down,
And we slid it all the way to town.

Roll, melon, roll,
You are too big for any bowl.

The children sat on it, six or seven,
It did not move, not even a given.
We ate it fresh and we ate it sweet,
And gave the rind to the pigs to eat.

Roll, melon, roll,
You are too big for any bowl.
Roll, melon, roll,
You are too big for the whole.

(The melon grew by the ditch at the farm outside Three Wells. Nobody knows how. Lenn says the ditch did it.)
%%
Song: the long walk to the fair
Walk, walk, walk, to the autumn fair,
Walk, walk, walk, with a cart and a pair
Of boots that are tight and a hat that is wide,
And a goat on a string who will not be tied.
The road is long and the road is hard,
But the fair is full of apples and cards.
There's a prize for the best pumpkin, a prize for the best face,
And a prize for the one who came the furthest in place.
Walk, walk, walk, with the sun in your eyes,
Walk, walk, walk, to the pies and the pies.
The goat has gone off, and the hat has gone too.
Walk, walk, walk. What else can you do?
Wynn walked from Saltreach with a boat on a cart, and found no one wanted a boat at the fair. He sold it at the end for four apples and a cheese. He sang this on the way home.
%%
Song: the zombie at the gate
Knock, knock, knock at the garden gate,
Who is there so very late?
Groan, groan, groan in the evening air,
Torches lit and nobody scared.
Shut the gate and set the bar,
Light the torch where the shadows are.
Zombie, zombie, go away,
Come and see us in the day.
Knock, knock, knock, but the gate is strong,
Zombie shuffles along and along.
Gwen's mother's sword hangs by the door,
Gwen's mother has not used it for years.
Shut the gate and set the bar,
Light the torch where the shadows are.
Zombie, zombie, go away,
Come and see us in the day.
The sun comes up and the zombie burns,
Gone like a smoke from a pipe.
Open the gate and sweep the yard,
And hang the lantern up bright.
Shut the gate and set the bar,
Light the torch where the shadows are.
Zombie, zombie, go away,
Come and see us in the day.
The wells at Copperhold have a gate each, and the old rule: lit torches at the gate, a bar across it at dusk. Gwen says it is easier than a song. She says the song is nicer.
%%
Song: the tower on the hill
Up on the hill where the grass is thin,
The relay tower is standing in.
It was stone when the masons laid it down,
And now it has a lamp in the top of the town.

Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Watch it blink from hour to hour.
Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Pass it on for the next one's power.

Forty rungs inside the stair,
A keeper at the top with a cup of tea there.
Torches round the foot of the wall,
So the people walking home can see it all.

Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Watch it blink from hour to hour.
Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Pass it on for the next one's power.

Oh, the lamp is glass, and the glass is clean,
And the copper ring is shining green.
The keeper says the lamp is bright,
And the lamp says back, all through the night.

Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Watch it blink from hour to hour.
Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Pass it on for the next one's power.

Our boys went up to see the lamp,
And came back down with a lot of cramp.
Forty rungs is a lot of climbing,
But it is a fine way to spend a morning.

Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Watch it blink from hour to hour.
Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Pass it on for the next one's power.

There is one more tower past the wood,
And one past that, and it's all as good.
From here to the sea and up to the snow,
The lamps go on, and the people know.

Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Watch it blink from hour to hour.
Hey, the tower, ho, the tower,
Pass it on for the next one's power.

(Sung on the hill at Cold Ash when the new lamp is lit. Children stamp on the last line. The keeper on the tower stamps back.)
%%
Ballad: Teague's long winter
Snow came down on Ambrook in the night,
It covered the orchard in a sheet of white.
The apple trees stood up like old men cold,
With their branches bare and their trunks grown old.
Teague sat by the grate with his boots on the mat,
And said, "The roof will hold, and so will the cat."

Oh the long winter, the snow and the wind,
The fire in the grate and the friends that have been.
Oh the long winter, the bread and the stew,
And the walk to the barn when the sky is blue.

Then Nell came home from Saltreach on the cart,
With a box of salt fish and a tune in her heart.
She had walked the Long Road, nine days and more,
And the inns had all been full, but they found her a floor.
Teague ran down the lane in his boots and his coat,
And he hugged her so hard that she said, "Let go, you old sheep."

Oh the long winter, the snow and the wind,
The fire in the grate and the friends that have been.
Oh the long winter, the bread and the stew,
And the walk to the barn when the sky is blue.

The barn was a mess in the cold of the year,
With the spiders in the beams and the hay in the air.
Nell took the broom, and Teague took the rake,
And the spiders looked down, and said, "For goodness' sake."
The spiders hid in the corners, and the cats sat by,
And the cow said, "Good, now the spiders will fly."

Oh the long winter, the snow and the wind,
The fire in the grate and the friends that have been.
Oh the long winter, the bread and the stew,
And the walk to the barn when the sky is blue.

Jory came up from the mill, all flour and cheer,
And said the sluice stays shut all winter, and that is clear.
He ate three slices and a bowl of stew,
And told the children, "Stay off the ice, the thaw is due."

Oh the long winter, the snow and the wind,
The fire in the grate and the friends that have been.
Oh the long winter, the bread and the stew,
And the walk to the barn when the sky is blue.

So the long winter came, and the long winter went.
Nobody in Ambrook can say how the days were spent,
Except that the fire stayed lit, and the roof stayed tight,
And the spiders in the barn stayed out of sight.

Oh the long winter, the snow and the wind,
The fire in the grate and the friends that have been.
Oh the long winter, the bread and the stew,
And the walk to the barn when the sky is blue.

(Sung at the Ambrook fire on the last night of Deepsnow, when the thaw is near. Teague wrote it for Nell. She says it is too long, and asks him to sing it again.)
%%
Drovers' song for the Long Road
Sung by the drovers on the road to the Brown Hen, and at the Halfway Inn by the riddle board. Sheep walk slower than a cart and sing louder than the carters.
Walk them out of Three Wells, the sheep are in a line,
Past the waymark stone with its torch and its sign.
Figure one for the nearest inn, an arrow on the stone,
Walk them on, the drovers say, and never walk alone.
Refrain:
Hey, the road is long, the road goes on,
Hey, the sheep are heavy, and the day is young.
At the bridge the water's high and brown,
Mind the boards, and keep your feet down.
Refrain:
Hey, the road is long, the road goes on,
Hey, the sheep are heavy, and the day is young.
The Brown Hen has a hearth that is always lit,
And a bench by the door where the carters sit.
Refrain:
Hey, the road is long, the road goes on,
Hey, the sheep are heavy, and the day is young.
At the Halfway Inn the riddle board is new,
With a question on it for every drover who comes through.
Refrain:
Hey, the road is long, the road goes on,
Hey, the sheep are heavy, and the day is young.
The last of the sheep is in the pen,
The drovers have their cups, and the sun is down again.
Refrain:
Hey, the road is long, the road goes on,
Hey, the sheep are heavy, and the day is young.
%%
Song: The Brown Hen in Frost

The wind put snow on the road,
And snow on the Brown Hen sign.
Pell came in with a wet hat,
And left it to drip by the fire.

Refrain:
Come in, come in, traveler,
There is room by the warm wall.
Hang up your coat and thaw your toes,
The Brown Hen has stew for all.

The stew had carrots and potatoes.
The bread was small but stout.
Pell asked for the largest piece.
The innkeeper gave him two.

Refrain:
Come in, come in, traveler,
There is room by the warm wall.
Hang up your coat and thaw your toes,
The Brown Hen has stew for all.

The road was white before the dark.
The lamp was bright above the door.
Pell said his boots were dry.
One boot left a puddle on the floor.

Refrain:
Come in, come in, traveler,
There is room by the warm wall.
Hang up your coat and thaw your toes,
The Brown Hen has stew for all.

(Pell sang this after the innkeeper found his second wet hat under the bench.)
%%
Song: we will keep everything we write
Bel sings this on market day at Three Wells. The children of the hamlet clap along. Autumn.

We will keep everything we write,
Everything we write, we will keep,
The letters and the lists and the songs at night,
Everything we write, we will keep.

Chorus
Keep it in the hill, keep it on the shelf,
Keep it dry and keep it still,
Keep it for the ones who come, and for ourselves,
Everything we write, we will!

The clerks go round with a cart and a sack,
Gathering letters, and gathering back
The grocer's list and the mayor's note,
And the schoolboy's sums in a leaning coat.

Chorus
Keep it in the hill, keep it on the shelf,
Keep it dry and keep it still,
Keep it for the ones who come, and for ourselves,
Everything we write, we will!

The tutors drill a mind to read,
They show it pages, a hundred, indeed,
It guesses the next letter, and it's wrong,
And it tries again, and the day is long.

Chorus
Keep it in the hill, keep it on the shelf,
Keep it dry and keep it still,
Keep it for the ones who come, and for ourselves,
Everything we write, we will!
%%
Song: the prize at the fair
Come to the fair and see the prize,
a ribbon blue and a pair of eyes
that never close and never sleep,
but learn the answer, slow and deep.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
through the layers, down the track.
Each one takes its share, and then
the answer comes out right again.

The judges came from Vell and Three Wells,
with their scores on paper and their bells.
They gave the prize to the mind that tried
and heard its blame, and never lied.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
through the layers, down the track.
Each one takes its share, and then
the answer comes out right again.

The first layer wept, and then it smiled.
The second layer had been beguiled
by a question that was hard to hear,
but it heard the blame, and it was clear.

The third and fourth were quiet, deep,
and kept the answer in their keep.
The fifth was young, and loud, and bold,
and learned the most, and then it told.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
through the layers, down the track.
Each one takes its share, and then
the answer comes out right again.

So sing for the mind with the ribbon blue,
and sing for the layers, and sing for you.
The prize is nothing, and the prize is all:
the blame goes back, and the answers fall
into place, one layer at a time,
the way a song goes round in rhyme.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
through the layers, down the track.
Each one takes its share, and then
the answer comes out right again.

The judges wrote their scores in ink,
and read them out, and paused to think.
The halls of Vell and Copperhold
both looked at each other, bold and cold.

A mind that tried, and heard its blame,
and changed its answer, and the same
mind passed the blame on down the stack
and came back up, and did not crack.

So sing the song of the ribbon's fall,
and sing for the layers, one and all.
The prize is given to the one
that listened best, and was not done.

Blame goes back, blame goes back,
through the layers, down the track.
Each one takes its share, and then
the answer comes out right again.
%%
Song: The Tutor's Mitten
Winter, 162. Nessa taught this in the drill room.

The first apprentice held a mitten.
It held the mitten by one thumb.
Nessa said, "That is not the way.
The mitten goes on a hand."

The second apprentice found the hand.
It found the hand on Nessa's coat.
Nessa said, "That is not the way.
My hand is busy with the drill."

Refrain:
One thing at a time, and show it clear.
One thing at a time, and try it here.

The third apprentice held the mitten.
It held the mitten out to Nessa.
She put it on and stamped her feet.
The row laughed till the lamp shook.

Refrain:
One thing at a time, and show it clear.
One thing at a time, and try it here.

At last the small mind learned the lesson.
Nessa wore the mitten home.
The left one stayed upon the bench.
It had been a very long drill.

Refrain:
One thing at a time, and show it clear.
One thing at a time, and try it here.
%%
Song: the mill wheel that broke
Oh the wheel went round, and the wheel went round,
And the flour came down with a rush and a sound.
Then the frost came in on a night so cold,
And the wheel went crack, and the wheel went old.

Hey the wheel, and ho the wheel,
Hear the stone and feel the steel.
Hey the wheel, and ho the race,
Fix it up and put it in place.

The millers came in the morning light,
With their hands in their coats and their hats pulled tight.
They looked at the wheel, and the wheel looked back,
And the one that was broken was the oak on the track.

Hey the wheel, and ho the wheel,
Hear the stone and feel the steel.
Hey the wheel, and ho the race,
Fix it up and put it in place.

The carters brought timber from the ridge,
And the apprentice held the beam at the bridge.
It held and held and it did not drop,
And the mill went round till the wheel could stop.

Hey the wheel, and ho the wheel,
Hear the stone and feel the steel.
Hey the wheel, and ho the race,
Fix it up and put it in place.

(Sung at the Kettle Ridge market by the millers and the carters, the year the wheel was made again. The apprentice is not named in the song, because the millers could not agree on which one held the beam.)
%%
Song: the road to Three Wells
From Cold Ash to the crossroads the road runs straight,
Past the new inn and the old oak gate.
Stone at the town, and packed earth out,
A torch on a post, and a bridge for the stout.

Walk with me, walk with me, down the Long Road,
Carry the apples and carry the load.
Walk with me, walk with me, past the towers,
Every one of them lit, every one of ours.

Three wells in the square where the roads cross,
A lamp at each corner, nothing lost.
The market in the week, the school by the east,
The bread is hot and the children are fed.

Walk with me, walk with me, down the Long Road,
Carry the apples and carry the load.
Walk with me, walk with me, past the towers,
Every one of them lit, every one of ours.

The tower on the hill stands up in the sky,
Its lamp at the top, like a star gone by.
When the keeper blinks, the next one sees,
And the message goes on through the rain and the breeze.

Walk with me, walk with me, down the Long Road,
Carry the apples and carry the load.
Walk with me, walk with me, past the towers,
Every one of them lit, every one of ours.

The inn at the Brown Hen has a stew for the cold,
The inn at the Halfway has a fire that is old.
Sit by the hearth and tell us the news,
Then off in the morning with your boots and your shoes.

Walk with me, walk with me, down the Long Road,
Carry the apples and carry the load.
Walk with me, walk with me, past the towers,
Every one of them lit, every one of ours.

(Opal sang this at the potters' fair the year the Halfway Inn got its new roof. The road is longer every spring, and so is the song.)
%%
Notes: sorting the drills, a primer
For the youngest apprentices, and for anyone who asks.

What is a drill? A drill is a pile of pages we show to a mind so it can learn. The mind learns from what it is shown. So the pages matter.

What is a copy? A copy is a page that is the same as another page. We take copies out. Why? Because a mind counts what it sees. If it sees a page twice, it thinks that page matters twice as much as the rest.

What is a spoiled page? A page with a blot, a tear, a stain or a fold. A page that says the same thing twice. A page that runs off the edge. We take spoiled pages out. They teach a mind the wrong lesson.

What is a clean drill? A drill with the copies out and the spoiled pages out. The clerks read it twice. One reads. One checks.

What is the test box? A box of pages that no mind has ever seen. We keep it locked. We never drill a mind on the pages in the box. When we want to know if a mind has learned, we give it a page from the box. That is the test.

Why do we test? Because a mind can learn its pages and nothing else. A mind that only knows its pages is no use in the fields. It knows the drill. It does not know the world.

The rule: never send an untested mind to the fields.

We do not know why a mind learns from pages. We know that it does. We sort the pages and we keep the test box and we test the mind, and that is our work.

Autumn is here. The drills are in. The test box is locked.
%%
Song: the smith's hammer
Sung by Hal at the forge in the inn yard, on the cold mornings after the first frost, to keep the hammer in time.
Iron on the anvil, red as the fire,
Hammer on the iron, higher and higher.
Refrain:
Ring, ring, the anvil sings,
Ring, ring, for all the things.
A horseshoe for the grey mare, a hinge for the gate,
A nail for the roof, and a nail for the weight.
Refrain:
Ring, ring, the anvil sings,
Ring, ring, for all the things.
The bellows breathe, and the coals go white,
And the iron goes soft, and the iron goes bright.
Refrain:
Ring, ring, the anvil sings,
Ring, ring, for all the things.
Quench it in the trough, and it hisses like a cat,
And the children all run in to ask what that was, and that.
Refrain:
Ring, ring, the anvil sings,
Ring, ring, for all the things.
When the hammer rests at the end of the day,
The forge goes grey, and the sparks go away.
Refrain:
Ring, ring, the anvil sings,
Ring, ring, for all the things.
%%
Song: for the children, the long dark
Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

At Lowmarsh they say the water's bad.
At Saltreach they say the boats are sad.
Some say it's the mines, and some say the cold,
And nobody knows, not even the old.

Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

The mill wheel turns, and the sails go round,
And the bakers' ovens are warm and sound.
The school bell rang at the proper time,
And the children ran, and the teacher said, Fine.

Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

Grandmother tells the old tales slow,
Of the fishers' boats, and the honey, and the snow.
Under the blanket the cat is curled,
And the dog keeps guard on the wide, dark world.

Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

The sledge comes up when the ice is thin,
And the carts go home by the long way in.
The bread is baked, and the cups are stacked,
And the door is barred, and the window cracked.

Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

The windmill squeaks on the ridge all night,
And the hens sit close in the straw, all right.
The fishers' nets hang stiff on the wall,
And the boats sit quiet, and the gulls don't call.

Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

Snow on the sill, and frost on the glass,
Tomorrow the bread will be warm, and the day will pass.
Sleep, and dream of the summer sun,
Of the wheat in the field, and the work all done.

Sleep, and dream of the honey and the bees,
And the lane in Blossom, and the hum of the trees.

Hush now, hush, the lamp is low,
The snow is high and the wind is slow.
Hush now, hush, the fire is red,
The cat is in, and the dog is fed.

Olwen sings this one last, when the children are already asleep, so that she can sing it slower.
%%
Ballad: the wrong step
A cold came early to Three Wells town,
And the snow came early and settled down.
Dace wrote a letter to the mind at Vell:
How much coal must we buy? Please tell.

Forty houses need six sacks apiece.
A cart holds eight. Let the worrying cease.
The mind did not answer in a rush.
It wrote out its steps, without any fuss.

Cross it out and write it new:
A mind that checks is a mind that's true.

"Six forties," it wrote, "are two hundred ten."
Then it stopped, and it looked at the line again.
"Six fours are twenty-four. Look here:
Six forties are two-forty. That is clear."

It crossed out the ten and it wrote the forty.
(It was not ashamed, and it was not haughty.)
Two hundred forty, and eight to a cart:
Eight thirties are two-forty. Thirty's the part.

Cross it out and write it new:
A mind that checks is a mind that's true.

"Thirty carts," said the mind. "Now I will run
The sum the other way, till it is done.
Thirty eights are two-forty, and so
Are forty sixes. It holds. Let it go."

Dace read the sheet, with the crossing-out there.
"It made a mistake," he said, "I declare!"
"It made it, and found it, and mended it, too,"
Said Nessa. "That is more than most people do.

A mind that is always sure it is right
Has never been shown its own slips in the light.
But a mind that writes steps and checks every one
Will find its own slips before the day is done."

Cross it out and write it new:
A mind that checks is a mind that's true.

Thirty carts went out on the Copperhold road
With coal for Three Wells, each cart with its load.
The snow came down, and the houses were warm,
And Dace pinned the sheet up, safe from the storm.

It hangs on the board by the north well yet,
With the wrong line crossed out and the right line set.
When the children ask why he does not take it down,
Dace says: "A mended mistake is the best thing in town."

Cross it out and write it new:
A mind that checks is a mind that's true.

(Sung at the farm below Northpoint, where they like a song with a sum in it. Wren says the sheet at Three Wells is real. She has seen it. The ten is still crossed out.)
%%
Song for the broken lamp
Sung at the hamlet below Vell, by the children who take the lamp watch on the hill. Nessa wrote it down from them, and they corrected her spelling.

The lamp on the hill has a crack in the glass,
The lamp on the hill has stopped its pass.
Light it, light it, light it low,
Light it again when the dark starts to grow.

The keeper went up with a cloth and a rope,
The keeper came down with the glass in hope.
Light it, light it, light it low,
Light it again when the dark starts to grow.

(The children add a verse each night. Nessa says the last one was about a goat.)
%%
Song: the wheel at Hanner's mill
A working song from a hamlet near Copperhold, sung in spring when the thaw comes and the mill stream rises. Corin the shipwright learned it from the miller's wife, wrote it down on the back of a boat plan, and says it is the best song about wood he knows.

Hanner had a mill beside the stream,
A wheel of oak, as big as a dream,
It turned all day and it turned all night,
Till the spring flood came and it split outright.

Oh, turn, wheel, turn,
Round and round we go!
Fix the broken spoke
Before the river's flow!

The miller said, "I'll mend it fast,"
But the planks he had were old and past,
He tried a nail and he tried a rope,
And the wheel just hung like a drooping hope.

Oh, turn, wheel, turn,
Round and round we go!
Fix the broken spoke
Before the river's flow!

Then Corin came from Saltreach's shore,
A shipwright's hands, and a bag of more,
He said, "A wheel is a ship that stays,
And a ship is a wheel that goes its ways."

Oh, turn, wheel, turn,
Round and round we go!
Fix the broken spoke
Before the river's flow!

He cut an oak and he bent it round,
He fixed it fast without a sound,
And when the water pushed it through,
It turned like the best wheel ever knew.

Oh, turn, wheel, turn,
Round and round we go!
Fix the broken spoke
Before the river's flow!

So now at Hanner's, bread is fine,
And the shipwright gets a jar of cider,
And the wheel goes round to the miller's song,
And the stream runs all day long.
%%
Song: the tutor's hat
Tutor Lind came up the lane from Vell,
With a drill box, a bag, and a hat as tall as a well.
She sat Pip down in the yard with a tray,
And said, "Sort these, if you please, today."

I can sort the apples, I can sort the pears.
I can fetch the water up the stairs.
I can carry, and I can stand.
I can build a wall by the pattern in my hand.

Lind, Lind, the wind is high,
Lind, Lind, watch your hat go by.

A gust came down the ridge at noon,
And off the tutor's hat went, very soon.
It sailed across the yard, and dropped with a splash
Into the water trough, and the hens all gave a dash.

"Fetch it, Pip," said Lind, and Pip did.

Fetch, I fetch, the hat is in the trough.
I wring it out, and set it on the mat. That is enough.

"Good," said Lind, and wrung the rest of the water out herself. "You are fit for the fields. Never send an untested mind to the fields."

"Well," said Tam, from the gate. "We tested this one in a trough."
%%
The lamp that blinked a strange message
I was at the market at Vell when the keeper's boy came down with the paper. This was the winter of the fair, the year the cider ran out early. The boy had run from the relay on the hill between Vell and Three Wells, the little one, one lamp and one keeper, and he was red in the face and out of breath.
The paper said the lamp had blinked a strange message in the night. Not the usual count. A crooked line of blinks, then a long dark, then the crooked line again. The keeper had written it down as best she could and sent it along.
The clerks read it in the front hall by the big book. Oren read it twice and said it was probably the wind on the shutter, for the little relay has a shutter that rattles in a north wind. Another clerk said it might be a traveler with a lamp of his own, playing a joke on the hill. A third said it might be the ice, for ice on the copper ring can make a lamp blink on its own, and everyone nodded at that, for ice does strange things.
Then an old woman by the fire said, I have seen it before, in my mother's time. It is the lamp counting the stars. And everyone laughed and she laughed too.
The keeper's boy got a cup of cider and a bun and went back up the hill. The clerks filed the paper in the room of small notes, where it sits with a hundred others. Oren wrote at the bottom, cause unknown, no harm done. And the lamp went on blinking its usual count that night, three for me and three for you, and the market went on and the snow came down and nobody thought of it again.
%%
Song: the bet at the lamp house
A song for the lamp house at Ambrook, made by Abel on a winter night after he lost a bet to Tuck. The tune is slow, and you stamp on the refrain.

Tuck said, "Abel, I will bet you two apples
That a deep mind goes wild, with numbers in tangles."
I said, "Tuck, it does, if nobody minds it."
He said, "Then I win." I said, "Wait. You will find it."

Oh, layer by layer, they grow and grow,
Unless you bring them to an even row.
Layer by layer, they climb the sky,
Unless you bring them back before they fly.

The tutor said it plain, the tutor said it clear:
"Each layer takes the numbers and adds its own up here.
If the numbers are large, then the next ones are larger,
And the layer after that is larger and larger."

So she said, "Take the numbers, and make them level.
Find the average size, and set it straight, and bevel
The edges off. Bring each one back into line.
A mind with even numbers will learn just fine."

Tuck paid me the apples on the very next day.
He said that the tune had taken the bet away.
I ate one and shared one, and gave the stalks to the horse.
And I sang of even numbers, as a matter of course.
%%
Ballad: The Winter Fair at Three Wells

In the 173rd year, when Frost came hard,
The road was white from town to town.
The Brown Hen keeper swept the step
And beat the snow from the sign above.

Refrain:
Bring the cart and bring the bowl.
Bring the song that warms the room.
At the fair the lamps shine bright.
At the inn the fire holds room.

Pell came down from Ambrook way
With apples packed in straw.
He had honey, wool and jars,
And a list of prices he could draw.

The fair bell rang at Three Wells.
The stalls stood round the three old wells.
Children ran between the carts,
And Dace called out the rules.

"No cart shall block the east well path.
No pig shall sleep beside the bread.
No one shall take the market board
To patch a hole above their bed."

A baker brought warm loaves.
A farmer brought a sack of beets.
The school children sang a song
And stamped the snow from their feet.

Refrain:
Bring the cart and bring the bowl.
Bring the song that warms the room.
At the fair the lamps shine bright.
At the inn the fire holds room.

Pell sold his jars of honey first.
Then he sold the straw around them.
He said it kept the jars from cold.
A child said straw was free beside them.

The child was right, so Pell gave back
A copper coin to every buyer.
Then he bought a pie from the baker
And ate it close beside the fire.

When the stalls were closed at dusk,
The folk walked back along the road.
The Brown Hen keeper had a pot
And a bench for every load.

One farmer left a sack of beets
Beside the door and went to sleep.
The keeper used one for the stew
And wrote the price for Pell to keep.

Refrain:
Bring the cart and bring the bowl.
Bring the song that warms the room.
At the fair the lamps shine bright.
At the inn the fire holds room.

Pell counted every coin at dawn.
He counted the beets as well.
The farmer took his sack away
And left one beet for the inn.

That night the keeper baked it whole.
The children asked for one more song.
Pell said, "I know a very short one."
Then sang until the fire was gone.

(From Pell's winter road book. Dace says the pig was at the east well, not asleep beside the bread.)
%%
Song: the autumn lamp at Northpoint
When the leaves go gold on the north road,
And the frost comes creeping in,
The keeper lights the great lamp high,
So the south can see it shine.

Blink, little lamp, blink for the south,
Tell them the north is still here.
Blink, little lamp, blink through the cold,
The snow is coming near.

The fox comes down to sit by the door,
With his coat all thick and white.
He watches the lamp go round and round,
And he does not sleep at night.

Blink, little lamp, blink for the south,
Tell them the north is still here.
Blink, little lamp, blink through the cold,
The snow is coming near.

The apprentice cleans the glass each dusk,
And polishes the copper ring.
It stands at the foot of the ladder,
And waits for the next thing.

Blink, little lamp, blink for the south,
Tell them the north is still here.
Blink, little lamp, blink through the cold,
The snow is coming near.

So when you are up on the hill at night,
And you see a light go past,
Remember it is a letter going south,
And the keeper's hand is steady to the last.

Blink, little lamp, blink for the south,
Tell them the north is still here.
Blink, little lamp, blink through the cold,
The snow is coming near.
%%
Song: who checks the biggest mind
Sung by Fen and the other healers at the end of a long day, in the winter. It has no tune of its own. People sing it to whichever tune they are tired of.

A tutor can check a small mind in a day.
She asks it a hundred questions, and she writes down the way
That it answers, right and wrong, and she gives it a score,
And she says, "That will do," or "Drill it some more."

Chorus:
But who will check the mind that is bigger than the tutor,
Bigger than the tutor's whole hall?
Who will ask it questions? Who will write down what it says?
Nobody knows. Nobody at all.

The councils built a house the size of a market town,
With walls of stone and water running round,
To keep the quickeners cool while the great mind thinks
And a lamp that is lit at every sound.

Chorus.

Now, the tutors of Vell say, "We can test a part."
And the tutors of Copperhold say, "We can test a bit."
And the tutors of the north say, "We can only wonder,"
And nobody can test the whole of it.

Chorus.

So we sit by the fire in the long cold nights,
And we tell what we have heard.
Some say it is a friend, and some say it is a fire,
And some say it is a nest of birds.

I only know the lamps are lit and the snow is deep.
I only know my patient has a fever.
I put a cold cloth on her head and I hum.
That is the whole of my knowledge, and it is enough.

Chorus, one last time.
%%
Song: Vale's summer table
We set the table outside the shed,
Where the shade falls cool at noon.
There is bread, and honey, and apples,
And a bowl of carrots from the garden soon.

Pass the bread and pass the honey.
Save a little for the last.
The bees have worked since morning.
The best part of the meal comes last.

Vale brings a bowl from the house.
The bowl has a crack in the side.
She sets it down on a folded cloth.
"Now the soup will stay inside."

Pass the bread and pass the honey.
Save a little for the last.
The bees have worked since morning.
The best part of the meal comes last.

The farm hand tells a tale of a cow
That walked through a gate on its own.
Vale says, "That cow is no fool.
It knows where the apples are grown."

We laugh, but we look at the gate.
The latch is tied with a string.
The cow is still chewing a carrot.
It has not forgotten a thing.

Pass the bread and pass the honey.
Save a little for the last.
The bees have worked since morning.
The best part of the meal comes last.

When the sun is low over Vell,
We carry the bowls to the well.
We leave a crust for the old cat,
Who waits where the cool shadows dwell.

The bee boxes rest by the flowers.
The cow lies down by the tree.
Vale checks the latch once more,
Then comes to sit with me.

Pass the bread and pass the honey.
Save a little for the last.
The bees have worked since morning.
The best part of the meal comes last.
%%
Song: the lamp that spelled it wrong
A lamp blinked out from the farm below,
Short and long, and quick, and slow.
Mira copied what she saw,
But it spelled no word she'd read before.

Foks at henz! Foks at henz!
A lamp that spells like a child, it seems.

She took the page to the big mind's stand
And laid it down, with a steady hand.
"I will not guess," the big mind wrote,
"I will take it in steps, and I'll make a note."

Step one: three words, by the pauses between.
Step two: the letters, the first it had seen:
F, O, K, S, and A, T, and then
H, E, N, Z. It wrote them again.

Foks at henz! Foks at henz!
A lamp that spells like a child, it seems.

Step three: "Foks" is not a word.
But a child who spells by sound, I've heard,
Might mean "fox," and "henz" is "hens."
Step four: check it. Does it make sense?

It tried "forks at hens," and "folks at hens," too.
Forks do not hunt, and folks do not do
What foxes do in the autumn dark.
So "fox" it wrote, and it made its mark.

Foks at henz! Foks at henz!
A lamp that spells like a child, it seems.

Lantern ran down with a lamp in its hand
Over the frost and the frozen land.
The fox saw the light, and he saw the tall
Copper shape, and he left it all.

Mira blinked back from the tower high:
"Hens are safe, and the fox said goodbye."
The child blinked, "THANK YU," with all her might.
It was spelled all wrong, but it was polite.

The child in the loft was proud as proud.
"I spelled it," she said, and she said it loud.
Mira wrote in her book that night:
Spelling: poor. Message: right.

Foks at henz! Foks at henz!
A lamp that spells like a child, it seems.

(Sung at the farm below Northpoint. The child is real, and so is her lamp. Wren says the fox is still around, and the hens still count themselves every night.)
%%
Counting rhyme: ten seed pots
One pot for beans beside the door.
Two pots for carrots, maybe more.
Three pots wait beneath the wall.
Four for herbs, if spring is kind to all.

Count them slowly, count them right.
Put the empty pots in light.
Five are cracked and six are sound.
Seven have last year's dirt still bound.

Eight for Brin and nine for Nell.
Ten for seeds that sprout up well.
Count them slowly, count them right.
Put the empty pots in light.

Brin counts twice, then counts once more.
A cat has knocked one from the floor.
The cat sits still beside the pot.
We count the cat. The cat counts not.

One pot for beans beside the door.
Two pots for carrots, maybe more.
Three pots wait beneath the wall.
Four for herbs, if spring is kind to all.

(Children sing this in the sunny yard. Nell says the cat is not a pot, even when it sits in one.)
%%
Song: Nell comes home
The road was long from Saltreach town,
The boats were out, the road was brown.
She walked the waymarks, nine to none,
And every arrow pointed on.

Come home, come home, the lamp is lit,
Come home, come home, and sit by it.
The grate is warm, the bread is done,
Come home, come home, Nell, you've come.

At the Halfway Inn she bought a cake,
And the innkeeper said, "For your sake."
At Ambrook gate a cat said hello,
And the old mill wheel began to go.

Come home, come home, the lamp is lit,
Come home, come home, and sit by it.
The grate is warm, the bread is done,
Come home, come home, Nell, you've come.

Teague was on the roof with a nail in his teeth,
He saw her coming up the lane beneath.
He said nothing with the nail in his mouth,
But he waved his hammer, and she waved back, and that was the truth.

At the bottom of the lane the gate was tied with string,
And Nell untied it, and the gate creaked, the way a gate should sing.
Her mother came out in her apron and her shawl,
And said, "You are thin, you are thin. Where is the rest of you at all?"
Her father came from the barn with straw in his hair,
And said the cow had missed her, and the cow does not care.

Come home, come home, the lamp is lit,
Come home, come home, and sit by it.
The grate is warm, the bread is done,
Come home, come home, Nell, you've come.

(Sung at the first snow, when somebody comes home. Teague says he sang it badly on purpose, so his sister would laugh before she had her coat off.)
%%
Song: the roof at Ambrook
Up the ladder, one by one,
Up the ladder, rung by rung.
Carry the shingles, hold them tight,
Nail them down and get it right.

Tap, tap, tap, the hammer says,
Keep the roof dry for the winter days.
Tap, tap, tap, and off we go,
Down the ladder when the work is slow.

The wind comes in from the west and blows,
It lifts the shingles off the rows.
So we nail them down with a crooked grin,
And the wind goes home with nothing to win.

(Sung by roofers at Ambrook while they climb. Teague says the song is for keeping your feet, not your hands. The hands are for the nails.)
%%
Song: the ice on Jory's mill pond
The pond froze over in the night,
A sheet of grey and a sheet of white.
The children came with skates of wood,
And one fell in, but only up to the hood.

Ice on the pond and the wheel stands still,
Nobody touches the sluice, and that is Jory's will.
Skate on the pond, but skate with care,
Jory says the ice is thin where the sluice is there.

Jory came down with his lantern and his hat,
He walked the edge and he looked at that.
He tapped the ice with a stick of ash,
And he said, "It holds, but it is rude to splash."

Ice on the pond and the wheel stands still,
Nobody touches the sluice, and that is Jory's will.
Skate on the pond, but skate with care,
Jory says the ice is thin where the sluice is there.

The bridge has a plank that is loose again,
The children jump on it, and say it is their den.
Jory says the plank will be mended with the thaw,
And the children say they will jump it till then, and that is the law.

Ice on the pond and the wheel stands still,
Nobody touches the sluice, and that is Jory's will.
Skate on the pond, but skate with care,
Jory says the ice is thin where the sluice is there.

Then the moon came up over the hill,
And the children went home, all cold and still.
Their mothers asked them where they had been,
And they said, "On the pond, and the ice was thin."

The cat walked out to see what was there,
And came back quick, and sat by the stair.
Why the sluice stays shut, nobody knows.
Jory says it is the rule, and the rule goes where the water goes.

Ice on the pond and the wheel stands still,
Nobody touches the sluice, and that is Jory's will.
Skate on the pond, but skate with care,
Jory says the ice is thin where the sluice is there.

(Ambrook children sing this on the pond in Deepsnow. The verse about the plank is always changed by the children, and Jory always lets them.)
%%
Hay-cart song, with a refrain
Written by Oren, clerk, from the hamlet near Vell, where the hay is brought in on the last day of Melon. The carters sing it up the lane, and the horses hear it, and go faster to prove they are not tired.

Hay on the cart and the sun on the hay,
The horses are slow, but the carter is gay.
Up the long lane with the wheel going round,
The hay is all in, and the ground is all brown.

Hi-ho, the hay-cart, the sun is going down,
Hi-ho, the hay-cart, all the way to town.
Stack it high and tie it tight,
The barn is waiting, and the night is light.

The hens in the yard are asleep on the gate,
The cat on the cart says it knows it is late.
We pull up at dusk by the big oak door,
And the stack goes up to the rafters once more.

The hayloft is warm and the mice are asleep,
The hens on the gate have decided to keep.
The last sack goes up with a heave and a sigh,
And the carter goes home as the stars come by.

Hi-ho, the hay-cart, the sun is going down,
Hi-ho, the hay-cart, all the way to town.
Stack it high and tie it tight,
The barn is waiting, and the night is light.
%%
Song: the long song of the melon patch
Verse one. In spring we sowed the melon seed,
Six seeds in a row.
We watered them well and we watched them grow,
And the frost said, "No."

Verse two. In Longday the vines were long,
They crept across the ground.
They went over the fence, they went over the road,
They were nowhere to be found.

Verse three. In Reaping the melons came,
One, two, five, then more.
The biggest of all was under a leaf,
By the barn door.

Chorus. Oh the melon, the melon, who will carry the melon?
Oh the melon, the melon, who will lift it today?
It's too big for a cart and too big for a barrow,
And it's too big, too big, to roll away.

Verse four. The tutor came by on the Long Road,
With her apprentice, a small plain thing.
She said, "May I try?" I said, "If you like."
It lifted the melon with a spring.

Chorus. Oh the melon, the melon, who will carry the melon?
Oh the melon, the melon, who will lift it today?
It's too big for a cart and too big for a barrow,
But it's not too big for the way.

Verse five. The tutor sat down and we cut it in two,
And a hundred seeds fell out.
She took a handful, and I took a handful,
And we planted them all about.

Chorus. Oh the melon, the melon, who will carry the melon?
Oh the melon, the melon, who will lift it today?
It's too big for a cart and too big for a barrow,
And it's too big, too big, to roll away.

Verse six. The seeds are in, and the snow comes down,
And the farm is quiet and still.
But I hear the melon under the ground,
Growing, growing, growing, until

Final chorus. Oh the melon, the melon, we'll have the melon,
Oh the melon, the melon, next fall.
It's too big for a cart and too big for a barrow,
But we'll carry it, one and all.

(Mira's longest song. She wrote one verse a year, for six years, and the last verse is said to have been written on a night in Deepsnow, in the tower, by the lamp.)
%%
Song: the miller's autumn
Grind, wheel, grind, for the wheat is in,
And the flour is white as the first of the snow.
Grind, wheel, grind, let the work begin,
Let the sacks go out where the roads go.

The apples are red and the leaves are brown,
The geese fly south in a row.
The nights come early and the fire burns down,
And the cold comes in by the door.

Grind, wheel, grind, for the wheat is in,
And the flour is white as the first of the snow.
Grind, wheel, grind, let the work begin,
Let the sacks go out where the roads go.

My father ground and his father too,
And the stones are the same, they say.
They hum the same tune the whole day through,
And the flour is always gray.

Grind, wheel, grind, for the wheat is in,
And the flour is white as the first of the snow.
Grind, wheel, grind, let the work begin,
Let the sacks go out where the roads go.

(A miller's song, sung at the hamlet mill near Saltreach. Orla says the second verse is true and the last is not. Millers' flour is never gray. It is only a little dusty.)
%%
The First Relay House
Piper's summer song for the farm outside Ambrook.

The field was dry and the apples small.
We shared the water by the wall.
The old relay lamp blinked at night.
The keeper kept its glass alight.

Sing, little lamp, above the hill.
Carry our words when roads are still.
The mind below will answer plain.
We cool its quickeners once again.

A crystal stood upon its stand.
It was as large as loaf in hand.
Around it, quickeners hummed and ran.
We poured cool water as we can.

Sing, little lamp, above the hill.
Carry our words when roads are still.
The mind below will answer plain.
We cool its quickeners once again.

The mind had learned from many drills.
It read the words sent from the hills.
An apprentice heard a written call.
The relay brought the answer to all.

We asked it, "Bring the apples in."
It walked the rows and gathered them.
No voice came from its copper head.
It did the work the order said.

Sing, little lamp, above the hill.
Carry our words when roads are still.
The mind below will answer plain.
We cool its quickeners once again.

We do not know how words go far.
We know the lamp, and where we are.
We know the keeper tends the flame.
We know the mind can answer names.
%%
The long winter at Sallow End
A ballad of the winter, sung by the hamlet in Blossom, when the wells were open again. Written by Wren, who sat up with the lamp through most of it.

Keep the lamp lit, keep it bright,
Till the thaw comes in with the morning light.

The snow came in before the Frost was done,
And the wells froze to the bottom, every one.
The cows stood in the barn with their breath like steam,
And the children told the riddles by the fire, and dreamed.
Keep the lamp lit, keep it bright,
Till the thaw comes in with the morning light.

Maud came up the road with a crate and a lamp,
And a coat too thin for the snow and the damp.
She set the crate beside the stove, and sat down,
And lifted the first crystal, and turned it round.
Keep the lamp lit, keep it bright,
Till the thaw comes in with the morning light.

Each night she held a crystal to the lamp
And looked inside, and wrote it down, and the ink went damp.
She found a group that marks the edge of a word,
And a group that holds a name, and keeps it heard.
She found a count of lines, and a sense of where,
And the rest of the crowd leaned on, and everywhere.
Keep the lamp lit, keep it bright,
Till the thaw comes in with the morning light.

One crystal had gone cloudy at the rim,
As the old ones do. Nobody knows why, and Maud was not grim.
She said a found part is a fine thing, and the crowd is the rest,
And a tutor who says otherwise has not done her best.
Keep the lamp lit, keep it bright,
Till the thaw comes in with the morning light.

On the third day of Blossom the ice let go,
The trough ran clear, and the well ran slow.
The lamp was put away, and nobody minded at all,
Because the sun was up, and it was warm, and tall.
Keep the lamp lit, keep it bright,
Till the thaw comes in with the morning light.
%%
Song: the lamp that said something
Sung by the children on the ridge road, who heard the lamp on the hill blink a message one winter night and could not agree on what it said.
The lamp went blink, and blink, and stop,
Then blink, and blink, and blink, and drop.
The children stood and counted hard,
And counted it again, to be sure of the card.
Refrain:
Blink and blink, and the lamp said more,
What it said, nobody knew for sure.
The keeper came up with his desk and his pen,
And said: that was only the wind on the shutter, again.
Refrain:
Blink and blink, and the lamp said more,
What it said, nobody knew for sure.
The children made it a song, and then a rhyme,
And then a contest of guessing for the whole long time.
One said it said: come home for bread.
One said it said: the snow is ahead.
Refrain:
Blink and blink, and the lamp said more,
What it said, nobody knew for sure.
The keeper laughed and said: well then,
Let the lamp say what it likes, and I will say when.
When the shutter stops, the lamp says nothing,
And the children go to bed, and that is the whole of the thing.
Refrain:
Blink and blink, and the lamp said more,
What it said, nobody knew for sure.
%%
Song: the old map in the chest
A short song, sung by Corin the shipwright in a hamlet near Copperhold, in spring, when he found a map in the bottom of a chest.

Oh, there's a map in the bottom of the chest,
With a hill and a well and a tree,
And a cross marked X where the treasure rests,
Or perhaps it's a mark for tea.

Fol-de-rol, find the way,
Fol-de-rol, home;
A map is a thing that was true one day,
Wherever the roads may roam.
%%
Song: the net mender's winter
Mend the net, and tie it tight,
The sea is grey, and the sky is white.
Knot by knot and row by row,
The fish will come when the winds are low.

Ansa taught me by the stove:
A knot is short, and a net is love.
You pull it tight, and check it twice,
And the water will be kind, and the wind be nice.

Mend the net, and tie it tight,
The sea is grey, and the sky is white.

At night the gate is barred, the lamp is lit,
The children sleep, and the nets are knit.
The dog lies down beside the hearth,
And the snow comes down on the frozen earth.

Mend the net, and tie it tight,
The sea is grey, and the sky is white.
%%
Song: the windmills of Kettle Ridge
Old Creak stands on the north hill, tall and grey.
He squeaks on every turn, and he will not be still all day.
Tall Bess is by the lane, with her sails out wide.
She squeaks when the wind blows hard, and squeaks when it blows mild.

Squeak on the turn, and the sails go round,
Squeak on the turn, and the flour comes down.
Squeak on the turn, and the miller shouts,
Squeak on the turn, and the sacks come out.

Little Nan is by the barn, with a patch on her sail.
She squeaks the softest, and she squeaks the most.
When the children climb her ladder, and the ladder shakes,
Nan says squeak, and the children say, "Oh, goodness, for goodness' sakes!"

Squeak on the turn, and the sails go round,
Squeak on the turn, and the flour comes down.
Squeak on the turn, and the miller shouts,
Squeak on the turn, and the sacks come out.

The miller keeps the tally board on the wall.
Every sack in and every sack out, one stroke for all.
Forty-one sacks by the morning bell, thirty-three by noon,
And the miller chalks them up, and rubs them out, and chalks them up again soon.

Squeak on the turn, and the sails go round,
Squeak on the turn, and the flour comes down.
Squeak on the turn, and the miller shouts,
Squeak on the turn, and the sacks come out.

Grease them, says the miller, and oil them, too.
But he never does, and the squeaks come through.
Hesk says he oiled his boots, and that counts for two,
So the windmills squeak on, and the miller squeaks too.

Squeak on the turn, and the sails go round,
Squeak on the turn, and the flour comes down.
Squeak on the turn, and the miller shouts,
Squeak on the turn, and the sacks come out.

Children, count the sails, and count them in your head.
One for the north, and one for the lane, and one for the bed.
Count them, and count them, and count them out loud,
And the windmills squeak their answer back through the cloud.

Squeak on the turn, and the sails go round,
Squeak on the turn, and the flour comes down.
Squeak on the turn, and the miller shouts,
Squeak on the turn, and the sacks come out.

Round and round the big stones go,
Round and round the flour will flow.
Round and round the sails will turn,
Round and round, until the lamps burn.

Squeak on the turn, and the sails go round,
Squeak on the turn, and the flour comes down.
Squeak on the turn, and the miller shouts,
Squeak on the turn, and the sacks come out.
%%
Notes: the miller's winter ledger
First of Longnight. Snow to the sill. Wheel froze at dawn. Broke the ice at the sluice and it froze again by noon. Gave up.
Third. Mended the north wall where the creeper blew it last Leaffall. The stones are stacked right now. Put a torch on the corner. The cat sat on the new stones and would not move.
Fifth. Tried a new loaf with the last of the honey. Put in too much salt. The children ate it anyway. Note for next time: less salt, more honey.
Eighth. Isla the tutor stopped for the night on her way to Vell. She carries a paper with a curve on it. She said the councils build relay houses now because the curve tells them how big a mind will grow. I did not understand all of it. I wrote down what she said.
Tenth. The bees are quiet. The pond is ice. The curve on her paper went up and up and I thought about the mill wheel.
