To Inspecter 74

I found your yellow ticket in my pocket
the other day, and I thought should let
you know my jacket is holding up well.

It gets cold where I am and this tweed
keeps me as warm as the Scottish sheep
from whose wool the fabric was woven.

It has elbow patches now—in case you were
wondering—and my breast pocket always
wafts the lingering scent of pipe tobacco.

Sometimes I think of how your precise
eyes followed each of these seams, to
keep its wearer from catching a draft,

or how your hands might have run along
these folds, lapels, and sleeves to make
sure the weave ran smooth and straight.

I'm wearing a light blue shirt with it today:
is that okay? Do inspectors ever wonder
what shirts or men might fill these coats?

I imagine you are a man with round glasses and
a trimmed moustache who ends each of his days
judging jackets with some well-aged Bourbon.

But there are other times, when I imagine you're
a stunning woman, whose attentive eyes could
lovingly gather up all the loose threads of my life
and would weave them into something beautiful . . .

If the latter is the case, let's go on a long evening
stroll down by the water—and don't worry—
if it gets cold, I have a jacket you can borrow.

Dwarvish and Valaam Chant

Far over the misty mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old,

We must away, ere break of day,

To claim our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height

The winds were moaning in the night

The fire was red, it flaming spread

The trees like torches, blazed with light.

If you're having trouble getting this song out of your head after watching The Hobbit this weekend, or if you want something in the same style, I got it.  I was wondering, what it was, besides the depth of the dwarves' range, that resonated with me in this song.  Then I realized, dwarvish "chant" has the same thick and haunting bass drones (ison) as the Russian Orthodox chant from Valaam.

Both styles of chants have a single distinct melody, but rather than shadow the lead with some kind of harmonious parallel melody, the basses simply and deliberately shift up and down to change "the ground of the sound."  I don't know if Howard Shore or the other composers were inspired by Valaam, but it is interesting to note that monks, like dwarves, are bearded men, who enjoy singing and ale (Trappists), but who are more profoundly united by a common mission: their longing return to their true home, which was lost long ago.

The Beatitudes

Rejoice, Thou Bride Unwedded

A little more polyphonic