[Arry]

‘He’s here with me and our Uncle Gil,’ said Woody, coming up beside Hanson and laying his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Woody pointed over to where Gil and his band were sitting with the troupe of traveling players. Someone had just told a joke at the table and all were laughing.

‘This is Tim,’ offered Hanson, shrugging off his brother’s hand. ‘And that’s his sister, Wren.’

The sound of music starting up came from the large table, and Hanson glanced over to see what was happening. Gil had picked up his concertina from beneath his chair and was letting the air stream into its bellows, playing a few soft notes as he did so.

‘What about this one?’ they heard him say, as he struck up a tune and began to sing.

The water is wide, I cannot get o'er
And neither have I wings to fly.
O go and get me some little boat,
To carry o'er my true love and I.

A-down in the meadows the other day
A-gath'ring flow'rs both fine and gay
A-gath'ring flowers, both red and blue,
I little thought what love could do.

‘Ah we know that one,’ laughed Rowan, setting her pipe to her lips and nodding at the Elf, Emlin, to go ahead and sing.

I put my hand into one soft bush,
Thinking the sweetest flow'r to find.
I prick'd my finger to the bone
And left the sweetest flow'r alone.

I lean'd my back up against some oak,
Thinking it was a trusty tree.
But first she bended then she broke,
So did my love prove false to me.

Rowan sang, then, her clear, sweet voice sailing above the small crowd sitting near them.

Where love is planted, O there it grows,
It buds and blossoms like some rose;
It has a sweet and pleasant smell,
No flow'r on earth can it excel.

Must I be bound, O and he go free!
Must I love one thing that does not love me!
Why should I act such a childish part,
And love a lad that will break my heart.

Gil and Emlin finished the song, their voices twining in harmony.

There is a ship sailing on the sea,
She's loaded deep as deep can be,
But not so deep as in love I am;
I care not if I sink or swim.

O love is handsome and love is fine,
And love is charming when it is true;
As it grows older it groweth colder
And fades away like the morning dew.

There was a scattering of applause when the song was finished and the group at the table fell back to talking and to laughter.

‘Another love song!’ snorted Hanson, giving his little five year old opinion on the choice of subjects. ‘Say, I’m kind of hungry. Are you?’ He hopped down from his chair, and motioned for the other three to follow him. ‘I’ll bet Buttercup will give us a little basket of sandwiches and cookies if we ask her nice. Would you like to see the kittens that got born a few days ago? They’re in the barn, in a nice little hay nest.’ He smiled hopefully at Woody, Tim, and Wren. ‘We could eat out there and pet the kittens. I’ll show you the grey one with the pink nose that I like.’