A Verbal Fig Leaf · Track 7 · middle
Play at Couch Quail
Play at Couch Quail (1520s) — Flushing the bird from the sofa. A hunting term doing indoor work. VOLUME: I. THE COURT, 1350–1599. THE DODGE THIS ERA: The dodge is REVERENCE. You do not say it because it is holy, or because He is listening, or because she is a lady. Courtly, careful, and only just getting away with it. Sing the AVOIDANCE, never the anatomy.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
[Intro] Keep your voice in the valley. [Verse 1] My Lord Bishop’s secretary is waiting by the door. He has an ear for trespass, he has an eye for form. So we will not speak of the cushions, or the heavy velvet drape, Or the heat of the summer parlor, or the narrowest of shapes. I will tell him I am teaching you the customs of the field, How the cleverest of quarry is the quietest to kneel. [Chorus] We will play at couch quail, where the tall grass is spun From three yards of Lucca silk, out of the sun. No hound to raise the alarm, no horn to blow, Just the beating of the wings, and the going low. Keep your eyes on the canopy, wait for the flight, We are only talking of the hunt tonight. [Verse 2] The hawk is for the open sky, the stag is for the crown, But there is a smaller mystery when the afternoon comes down. Watch the sudden hesitation in the corner of my jaw, As I swallow back the common noun and give you noble law. You nod as if I spoke of nets and autumn weather, When all I meant was gathering the two of us together. [Chorus] To play at couch quail, where the tall grass is spun From three yards of Lucca silk, out of the sun. No hound to raise the alarm, no horn to blow, Just the beating of the wings, and the going low. Keep your eyes on the canopy, wait for the flight, We are only talking of the hunt tonight. [Bridge] His grace’s man is writing in a little leather book. He thinks it is a falconer’s advice he overheard and took. If I had used the plainest English, we would answer to the priest, So heaven bless the woven grass for keeping us in peace. [Outro] Flush the quiet bird. Keep the snare unseen. The cleric praises my instruction. He knows entirely what I mean. Or perhaps... He doesn't.