The Small Apples Grow - Adaptation of the Ballad of the White Horse, Book III by G.K. Chesterton скачать в хорошем качестве

The Small Apples Grow - Adaptation of the Ballad of the White Horse, Book III by G.K. Chesterton

Origional Song By Endless Hymnal. Check out his page on SoundCloud   / oca4vi0g5sexinccvn   A defeated king. A conquering horde. And a song that shouldn't make sense. This is an original folk hymn adapted from G.K. Chesterton's epic poem "The Ballad of the White Horse" (1911), reimagined in the Appalachian Sacred Harp tradition. The scene: 878 AD. King Alfred of Wessex has lost everything—his kingdom burned, his army scattered, his brothers dead. Disguised as a beggar, he's dragged into the Danish camp to sing for the men who destroyed his world. The young Viking lords mock his God. But old King Guthrum sits apart, silent, hollow—a conqueror who has won everything and found nothing. And Alfred, with nothing left, tells them why. --- "You can take the world and still be empty, But the small apples grow." --- Based on Book III of Chesterton's "The Ballad of the White Horse," this adaptation preserves the theological heart of Alfred's response to pagan nihilism while reshaping it as a singable congregational hymn. The original poem is in the public domain and available at Project Gutenberg. --- If you're interested in the intersection of: • Orthodox/Catholic theology and folk music • G.K. Chesterton's work • Sacred Harp and Primitive Baptist traditions • Anglo-Saxon history and King Alfred • Dark folk with Christian content ...you might be in the right place. --- Created as part of the Appalachian Music project—exploring what American mountain music might sound like if it carried the ancient Christian faith. --- Full lyrics: [Verse 1 - The Capture] They found me in the thorns at night, A beggar with a harp, They dragged me to the fire's light To sing before the jarls. My father's hall was ash and char, My kingdom was a grave, They laughed to see what I'd become— A king become a slave. [Refrain] But the small apples grow, The small apples grow, You can take the world and still be empty, But the small apples grow. [Verse 2 - The Mockery] The young lords sang of ships and swords, Of women, gold, and flame, They sang of Christ upon his cross And spoke his name with shame. "Your God was nailed to Roman wood, He died and did not fight— What king would kneel to such a God Who surrenders in the night?" [Refrain] But the small apples grow, The small apples grow, You can mock the cross and miss the kingdom, But the small apples grow. [Verse 3 - Guthrum's Weariness] But Guthrum sat apart from them, The old king, cold and grey, He did not sing, he did not laugh, He looked the other way. I saw the sickness in his eyes, The victor's hollow stare— A man who's burned down everything And found nothing there. [Refrain] And the small apples grow, The small apples grow, You can conquer every corner of the world, But the small apples grow. [Verse 4 - Alfred's Confession] I am the oft-defeated king, I've lost all I could lose, My brothers dead, my army fled, I have no throne to choose. And yet I tell you, golden lord, Who sits so high above— I would not trade my empty hands For all you cannot love. [Refrain] For the small apples grow, The small apples grow, I have nothing but the world is growing, And the small apples grow. [Verse 5 - The Diagnosis] You asked me why your gods are silent, Why your victories taste like dust, Why you drink and do not quicken, Why your gold has gone to rust. It's because you bless destruction, Because you bow to the breaking sword, And a man who loves only ruin Will be ruined by his lord. [Refrain] But the small apples grow, The small apples grow, God has blessed creation, called it good, And the small apples grow. [Verse 6 - The Inversion] So mock me, king of ashes, Mock my God upon the tree, He died for every living thing From the stars down to the bee. And when your ships have rotted, When your sons forget your name, Some boy will bite an apple And will never know your fame. [Refrain - Full, triumphant] And the small apples grow, The small apples grow, By God's death, the world keeps living, And the small apples grow. [End]