"Confessions of the Goliards" genre: Ensembles
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	This piece (1992) was a commission from the Goliard ensemble. It is here sung by Jim Blanton, tenor, the Goliard organizer, with flute, violin and cello. The text includes some of the poems used by Carl Orff in his Carmina Burana. However, I translate into English, which makes these salacious, bawdy poems even more questionable. Raoul Ronson of Seesaw Music helped a bit with this one -- he loves these Latin translation-type things. Selection includes the first three songs of a set of VII. Score and parts available through Seesaw Music Corp., 2067 Broadway, NYC 10023 (212)874-1200.
	CD: Recording available through Composers Concordance, P.O. Box 20548 PABT, NYC 10129 or e-mail info@composersconcordance.org
	Lyrics SPOKEN: We are the Goliards, Medieval Students and Clerics. We're a rather wayward lot, but now it's time to confess, so we'd like to sing these songs for you! SUNG: I. Time To Play (Tempus Hoc Laetitiae) Time for pleasure, time today Holiday we make to play! Let the singing start away Sing our old songs again! Beating hearts combine with voices, and our dancing blood rejoices Come, you scholars as you please Who best love festivities! Pen and copybook and ink, how funereal we think Ovid's works how dull with age Even any other page. If it is prohibited, it's a great temptation We are thinking only now Of our great vacation! II. Spring Drought (Nunc Viridant Segetes_ Now green are the gardens and bloom is on every tree The vineyards now start to bud, the best of the year we see The air is soft with the songs of the singing birds, No land, now sea are smiling, a beauty beyond all words. But ours is a bitter potion, the saddening truth we find, We're out of all our bear -- in Bacchus gifts behind! I am a writer, a servant of the Music, I plow out so many works; this does not always amuse, Yes, I'm your knight of learning... writing with my pen, Muse, ask our good father bishop, When shall we drink a gain? III. In the Tavern (In taberna quando sumus) When we're in the tavern drinking Of our work we're never thinking But we hasten to our betting Over which we're always sweating... What goes on in many a tavern, Where to reason never we yearn... Of these details now I speak, I'll give you a little peak... Some will drink as they get big Others will live like a pig Some will gamble until those Soon will lose all of their clothes. Some new garments soon will find Others leave their clothes behind Death, these people have no fear All they want is one more beer. First they drink to who will pay No one wants to any dayh ONCE to those in captivity THRICE to those men living free FOURTH to Christians all around FIFTH to those now underground SIXTH to women they have bedded SEVENTH to warriors they've beheaded EIGHTH to monks bent on their knees NINTH to their perversities TENTH to those who navigate ELEVENTH to those who like debate TWELFTH to those who pay full well THIRTEENTH those preferring hell Now to king and then to pope All drink through a haze of smoke DRINK the missus and the mister DRINK the soldier and the minister DRINK will all of any gender DRINK if they have legal tender DRINK the fast and so the slow DRINK-ing women's clothes will go DRINK the men who've lost their brains DRINK they fill their cups again! DRINK the poor and drink the sick DRINK the young, old with a stick DRINK the exile and the idiot DRINK the father and the bishop DRINK the sister and the borther DRINK the elder and the mother DRINK the many cups untold A HUNDREDFOLD! A THOUSANDFOLD!

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