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The Pleasure of Departing
2014

tenor
baritone
4 horns in F
3 trombones
tuba
2 percussion
  1: glockenspiel, marimba, sizzle cymbal, slapstick, snare drum, suspended cymbals (m.l.),
      woodblock (m)
  2: bass drum, china cymbal, marimba, sizzle cymbal, snare drum, suspended cymbal (s), vibraphone,       woodblocks (s.m.l)
violas (10)
cellos (10)
basses (4) 

duration 40'

SCORE
The Pobble Who Has No Toes
The Daddy Long-legs and the Fly
The Nutcrackers and the Sugar-tongs 
Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos 
The Jumblies
Cold are the Crabs

TEXTS
The Pobble Who Has No Toes
The Pobble who has no toes
Had once as many as we;
When they said, 'Some day you may lose them all;'—
He replied, — 'Fish fiddle de-dee!'
And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink,
Lavender water tinged with pink,
For she said, 'The World in general knows
There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes!'

The Pobble who has no toes,
Swam across the Bristol Channel;
But before he set out he wrapped his nose,
In a piece of scarlet flannel.
For his Aunt Jobiska said, 'No harm
'Can come to his toes if his nose is warm;
'And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes
'Are safe, — provided he minds his nose.'

The Pobble swam fast and well
And when boats or ships came near him
He tinkedly-binkledy-winkled a bell
So that all the world could hear him.
And all the Sailors and Admirals cried,
When they saw him nearing the further side,—
'He has gone to fish, for his Aunt Jobiska's
'Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!'

But before he touched the shore,
The shore of the Bristol Channel,
His wrapper of scarlet flannel.
And when he came to observe his feet
Formerly garnished with toes so neat
His face at once became forlorn
On perceiving that all his toes were gone!

And nobody ever knew
From that dark day to the present,
Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes,
In a manner so far from pleasant.
Whether the shrimps or crawfish gray,
Or crafty Mermaids stole them away —
Nobody knew; and nobody knows
How the Pebble was robbed of his twice five toes!

The Pobble who has no toes
Was placed in a friendly Bark,
And they rowed him back, and carried him up,
To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.
And she made him a feast at his earnest wish
Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish;—
And she said,— 'It's a fact the whole world knows,
'That Pebbles are happier without their toes.'


The Daddy Long-legs and the Fly
Once Mr. Daddy Long-legs,
Dressed in brown and gray,
Walked about upon the sands
Upon a summer's day;
And there among the pebbles,
When the wind was rather cold,
He met with Mr. Floppy Fly,
All dressed in blue and gold.
And as it was too soon to dine,
They drank some Periwinkle-wine,
And played an hour or two, or more,
At battlecock and shuttledore.

Said Mr. Daddy Long-legs
To Mr. Floppy Fly,
'Why do you never come to court?
. . . All gold and shine, in dress so fine,
. . . you'd see such sights!
Such rugs! Such jugs! and candle-lights!
And more than all, the King and Queen,
One in red, and one in green!'

'O Mr. Daddy Long-legs,'
. . . If I had six long legs like yours,
At once I'd go to court!
But oh! I can't, because my legs
Are so extremely short.

. . . 'O Mr. Daddy Long-legs,'
. . . 'I wish you'd sing one little song!
One mumbian melody!
You used to sing so awful well
. . . But now you never sing at all;
. . . if you would, the silvery sound
Would please the shrimps and cockles round,
And all the crabs would gladly come
To hear you sing, "Ah, hum di Hum"!'

 . . . 'I can never sing again!
. . . I'll tell you why,
Although it gives me pain.
. . . I cannot hum a bit,
Or sing the smallest song;
. . . this the dreadful reason is,
My legs are grown too long!
My six long legs, all here and there,
Oppress my bosom with despair;
And if I stand, or lie, or sit,
I cannot sing one little bit!'

So Mr. Daddy Long-legs
And Mr. Floppy Fly
Sat down in silence by the sea,
And gazed upon the sky.
They said, 'This is a dreadful thing!
The world has all gone wrong,
Since one has legs too short by half,
The other much too long!
One never more can go to court,
Because his legs have grown too short;
The other cannot sing a song,
Because his legs have grown too long!'

Then Mr. Daddy Long-legs
And Mr. Floppy Fly
Rushed downward to the foamy sea
With one sponge-taneous cry;
And there they found a little boat,
Whose sails were pink and gray;
And off they sailed among the waves,
Far, and far away.
They sailed across the silent main,
And reached the great Gromboolian plain;
And there they play for evermore
At battlecock and shuttledoor.

The Nutcrackers and the Sugar-tongs
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?

'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'

So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'

The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.

The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.

They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away. -- And they never came back!


Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Climbed to the top of a wall.
And they sate to watch the sunset sky
And to hear the Nupiter Piffkin cry
And the Biscuit Buffalo call.
They took up a roll and some Camomile tea,
And both were as happy as happy could be—
Till Mrs. Discobbolos said,—
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
'It has just come into my head—
'Suppose we should happen to fall! ! ! ! !
'Darling Mr. Discobbolos

'Suppose we should fall down flumpetty
'Just like pieces of stone!
'On the thorns, — or into the moat!
'What would become of your new green coat
'And might you not break a bone?

. . . Mr. Discobbolos answered,— 
'At first it gave me pain,—
'And I felt my ears turn perfectly pink
'When your exclamation made me think
'We might never get down again!
'But now I believe it is wiser far
'To remain for ever just where we are.'—

. . . So Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos
Stood up and began to sing,
'Far away from hurry and strife
'Here we will pass the rest of life,
'Ding a dong, ding dong, ding!
'We want no knives nor forks nor chairs,
'No tables nor carpets nor household cares,
'From worry of life we've fled—
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
'There is no more trouble ahead,

. . . Mr. and Mrs. Discobbolos 
Lived on the top of the wall,.
For twenty years, a month and a day,
Till their hair had grown all pearly gray,
And their teeth began to fall.
They never were ill, or at all dejected,
By all admired, and by some respected,
Till Mrs. Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
'It has just come into my head,
'We have no more room at all—
'Darling Mr. Discobbolos

'Look at our six fine boys!
'And our six sweet girls so fair!
'Upon this wall they have all been born,
'And not one of the twelve has happened to fall
'Through my maternal care!
'Surely they should not pass their lives
'Without any chance of husbands or wives!'

. . . 'Morning and night it drives me wild
'To think of the fate of each darling child!'
But Mr. Discobbolos said,
'Oh! W! X! Y! Z!
'What has come to your fiddledum head!
'What a runcible goose you are!
'Octopod Mrs. Discobbolos!'

Suddenly Mr. Discobbolos
Slid from the top of the wall;
And beneath it he dug a dreadful trench,
And filled it with dynamite, gunpowder gench,
And aloud he began to call—
'Let the wild bee sing,
'And the blue bird hum!
'For the end of our lives has certainly come!'
And Mrs. Discobbolos said, . . . 'We shall presently all be dead,
'On this ancient runcible wall,
'Terrible Mr. Discobbolos!'

Pensively, Mr. Discobbolos
Sat with his back to the wall;
He lighted a match, and fired the train,
And the mortified mountain echoed again
To the sound of an awful fall!
And all the Discobbolos family flew
In thousands of bits to the sky so blue,
And no one was left to have said,
'Has it come into anyone's head
'That the end has happened to all
'Of the whole of the Clan Discobbolos?'


The Jumblies
They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they went to sea:
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,
In a Sieve they went to sea!
And when the Sieve turned round and round,
And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!'
They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big,
But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!
In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.

They sailed away in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they sailed so fast,
With only a beautiful pea-green veil
Tied with a riband by way of a sail,
To a small tobacco-pipe mast;
And every one said, who saw them go,
'O won't they be soon upset, you know!
For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long,
And happen what may, it's extremely wrong
In a Sieve to sail so fast!'

. . . The water it soon came in, it did,
The water it soon came in;
So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet
In a pinky paper all folded neat,
And they fastened it down with a pin.
And they passed the night in a crockery-jar,
And each of them said, 'How wise we are!
Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long,
Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong,
While round in our Sieve we spin!'
Far and few, far and few,

. . . And all night long they sailed away;
And when the sun went down,
They whistled and warbled a moony song
To the echoing sound of a coppery gong,
In the shade of the mountains brown.
'O Timballo! How happy we are,
When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar,
And all night long in the moonlight pale,
We sail away with a pea-green sail,
In the shade of the mountains brown!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;

 . . . They sailed to the Western Sea, they did,
To a land all covered with trees,
And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart,
And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart,
And a hive of silvery Bees.
And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws,
And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,
And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree,
And no end of Stilton Cheese.
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,

. . . And in twenty years they all came back,
In twenty years or more,
And every one said, 'How tall they've grown!
For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone,
And the hills of the Chankly Bore!'
And they drank their health, and gave them a feast
Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast;
And every one said, 'If we only live,
We too will go to sea in a Sieve,—
To the hills of the Chankly Bore!'
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live;
Their heads are green, and their hands are blue,
And they went to sea in a Sieve.


Cold are the Crabs
Cold are the crabs that crawl on yonder hills
Colder the cucumbers that grow beneath,
And colder still the brazen chops that wreathe
The tedious gloom of philosophic pills!
For when the tardy gloom of nectar fills
The ample bowls of demons and of men,
There lurks the feeble mouse, the homely hen,
And there the porcupine with all her quills.
Yet much remains — to weave a solemn strain
That lingering sadly — slowly dies away,
Daily departing with departing day.
A pea green gamut on a distant plain
Where wily walrusses in congress meet–
Such such is life–
Where early buffaloes in congress meet
Than salt more salt, than sugar more sweer,
And pearly centipedes adjust their feet
Where buffaloes bewail the loss of soap
Where frantic walruses in clouds elope,
And early pipkins bid adieu to hope. 

Edward Lear (1812–1868)