Tarantella

christiane_n

Tarantella

  • She was pretty, she was lonely,
    she had been sitting under trees,
    when a spider, hairy spider,
    found its way up to her knees.

    Big, black spider, hairy devil,
    bit her once and sucked her blood,
    so she trembled and she shivered
    and she screamed and bit the mud.

    Comes the sorcerer, brings his music,
    plays it softly first, then loud,
    plays a trumpet, plays a tambourine,
    tries to get the demon out.

    The girl she’s leaping, screaming, pleading,
    convulsions infuriate her frame.
    Sweaty beads on her purple forehead,
    her breathing heavy, full of shame.

    Music’s raging, raving, scaling,
    limbs are shaking on and on,
    nighttime’s falling, light is fading,
    still the magic’s not yet done.

    Thirteen hours he was playing,
    thirteen hours she did dance,
    when at last the curse, it left her.
    Tarantism’s toughest stance.

  • Kat Diestel (Poem)
    Christiane Offenbar (Vocals and Photograph)
    I play two tracks of electric 12 string in 12 edo – please forgive the little bit of noise here and there. it was unavoidable.
    download the music

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