Music alone shall live

All things shall perish from under the sun,

Music alone shall live

Music alone shall live

Music alone shall live, never to die.

Sing when you’re sorrowful

Sing when you’re gay

Sing with the rising sun

Sing when the day is done

Singing is happiness

Sing everyone

 

Himmel und Erde müssen vergeh’n,

Aber die Musici,

Aber die Musici,

Aber die Musici bleiben besteh’n.

 

This has always been one of my favourite rounds. I don’t remember learning it, just that I was very young and I learned it in German before I learned it in English. I learned the English when I started to working at camps.

As I grow older the words mean more. What do I leave behind? When I’m gone will my songs live on?

Music alone shall live? Hopefully, my stories will live on but my oldest friends and a lot of my newer ones will remember singing together. I remember the soaring of mingled voices on a mountain hillside as night falls. I remember singing at campfires on the last night filled with hugs and love and tears. I remember singing on long backpacks or as we did the dishes around tables after eating. I remember singing at Scout’s Own or in chapel when the bats would fly overhead or as the sun rose over the trees.

Music alone shall live.

Does it still echo through the canyons when the girls and staff are long gone? Do the mountains remember the songs and the love?

Sing when you’re sorrowful

Sing when you’re gay

Music is always there, it’s the thing that my heart will always cling to. It’s a gift you share with people and is gone if not recorded, on the wind, its ephemeral grace lasts only as long as it hangs in the air.

Sing with the rising sun

Sing when the day is done

Will we remember singing “Annie’s song” in 8 part or more harmony and the joy we had at singing at Kelly’s wedding as a gift to her that only we could give? Will those of us who sang as Women With Cakes remember the joy we had in singing and playing together in ritual and at Faire? Will we remember the joy that went with every song we sang at camp even if it was a very silly one like “Wasn’t it a bit of luck the I was born a baby duck” or “if I was a little mosquito there was love and hope?” Will we remember the joy in the sounds of us singing “jubilate Deo” as grace for Sunday dinner? I remember.

Singing is happiness

Sing everyone

 

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