The Old Verb That Lost Its Letter (Swyve)

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
In the Ellesmere Manuscript, circa 1400 to 1410,
held now in the Huntington Library, San Marino, California,
the word appears on folio 86 verso.
Swyve.
Geoffrey Chaucer, born around 1343, dead by October 25, 1400,
slipped it into The Miller's Tale,
line 3850 in the Riverside edition.
A verb, blunt as a scribe's knife sharpening a quill.

[Chorus]
Swyve, from Old English swifan, to revolve or sweep,
but by Chaucer's London, it meant to couple,
to move in that ancient rhythm.
The letter 'y' held it for centuries,
then dropped away, leaving the word we whisper now.
But here, in the parchment, it stays whole.

[Verse 2]
Picture the scriptorium in Westminster Abbey, autumn 1390,
air at 10 degrees Celsius, damp with Thames fog.
A monk, unnamed, his breath visible,
dips the quill into iron-gall ink,
black as night in the candle's flicker.
He forms the letters: s-w-y-v-e,
copying from a draft smudged with Chaucer's own hand.
The smell of musty vellum, tallow smoke curling.

[Chorus]
Swyve, from Old English swifan, to revolve or sweep,
but by Chaucer's London, it meant to couple,
to move in that ancient rhythm.
The letter 'y' held it for centuries,
then dropped away, leaving the word we whisper now.
But here, in the parchment, it stays whole.

[Bridge]

J.R.R. Tolkien, in his 1922 vocabulary,
notes it doubled as legal term in court records,
for misconduct in shadowy inns.
The common folk of Southwark used it laughing,
but the scribes blushed or didn't,
their faces lost to us.
What became of that 'y'? Swallowed by time,
like the monk's supper of bread and ale.

[Verse 3]
In the tale, Nicholas grabs Alisoun,
swyves her while the carpenter sleeps.
Chaucer chuckles through the ink,
October 25, 1400, his last day,
perhaps thinking of that verb.
We etymologize it now, dusting the manuscript,
feeling the parchment's grain under fingers.

[Outro]
Swyve. The old verb, letter lost.
But in Huntington's vault, it revolves still.