Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Jack in the Sheaf

That Jack guy sure does seem to get around. First there was Jack in the Green (you can hear his song here), soon to be followed (to the same tune) by Jack in the Heap (Compost, that is) and Jack in the Drift.

Here's a harvest version that we usually sing later on at our Harvest Supper, after we've all had a few and the kids have gone to bed.

Earthy folk, pagans.

 Jack in the Sheaf

 

Now harvest is here boys, I'm happy to say,

so it's off to the fields to work hard every day.

All those studs with their shirts off can give a guy grief,

till he makes the acquaintance of Jack in the Sheaf.

Give a guy grief, give a guy grief,

till he makes the acquaintance

of Jack in the Sheaf.

 

Those rippling pectorals glisten with sweat,

and the curve of those buttocks is hard to forget.

But if all those guys have you grinding your teeth,

permit me to introduce Jack in the Sheaf.

Grinding your teeth, grinding your teeth,

permit me to introduce

Jack in the Sheaf.

 

Now all you young reapers, I pray you beware

of handling Jack, there's a strange power there:

for if you but touch him (it surpasses belief),

you'll soon hold a handful of Jack in the Sheaf.

Jack in the Sheaf, give us relief:

and we'll dance through the cornfield

with Jack in the Sheaf.


Tune:
Traditional

Lyrics: Steven Posch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last modified on
Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.

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