Léon Bazille Perrault [Public domain], via Wikimedia CommonsA song about singing is a great choice for a choral concert! So what’s the deal with the lyrics for this song? Well, first let me take a look at the poet himself:
Thomas Moore was an Irishman who lived from 1779-1852. He had a long and varied career, as they say, which could have ended much sooner if the duel he was supposed to fight in 1806 had not been stopped by the authorities; he forever afterward had to deal with rumors that his opponent (the editor of a critical review) had been given an unloaded pistol.
Eventually Moore was persuaded to write lyrics to some already-established Irish airs. These songs included the more-famous “The Last Rose of Summer” and “Believe Me, If All These Endearing Young Charms.”
The choir to which I belong performed this piece only two years after its 2015 premier. The composer, Philip Biedenbender, was a senior at St. Olaf College at the time and a member of the famous choir attached to the school. He’s gone on to build a career, with many other works to his credit. You can visit his website here. Such a great joy to present works by young, up-and-coming artists!
One of the joys of writing the material on this site is that I have an excuse to dive into the meanings of Christmas songs that I’ve been hearing all my life and always vaguely wondered about. “The Little Drummer Boy” certainly falls into that category. I sort of assumed that it fell into the genre of stories about gifts brought to the Christ child, and indeed it does, but there’s a surprising amount to say about it beyond that general idea. Let’s start with its origin. (As I’m writing this post I’m listening to the Pentatonix version; you can access the video below.) The song was written in 1941 by a woman named Katherine K. Davis, an American composer and music teacher. Out of her 600+ compositions she is known today only for this one piece. When first published, the heading included the words “Czech Carol freely transcribed by K.K.D.” However, the original carol has never been found, although there is apparently a Czech traditional lullaby that is sometimes listed as the source even though it doesn’t really resemble the carol. Who knows? And I don’t read Czech, so even if I could find it I wouldn’t be able to tell you what it means!
“The Visitation” by Philippe de Champaigne, public domain
This is another one of those posts where I may get completely carried away. I’ll try to rein myself in. I want to start out with some info about the composer of the setting I have sung, David N. Childs. He sounds like an extremely busy composer with lots of irons in the fire. I would encourage you to take a look at his professional website, River Avon Productions, just to get a taste of what he’s up to. Interesting little note: he’s married to a laryngologist. Isn’t that like, so cool? Somebody in one of his choirs is having vocal problems? No prob! He can call in his wife to diagnose the case.
When the choir to which I belong performed this piece in our Christmas 2017 concert, we had the opportunity as we have so many times before to publicize the work of a living composer. It’s so great to be able to do this! You don’t just look the artist up on Wikipedia; you get to see what he/she is up to right now. I’m a little tickled to see that Childs is more than happy to fulfill commissions for “video gaming.”
This piece repeats the phrase “bish’al han’ilah”–”as the gates begin to close.” So what are these gates?
So much to say here! Let’s start out with the context of these particular words and indeed of the lyrics as a whole. It’s not tied to Hanukkah but to Yom Kippur, the “Day of Atonement,” and is typically sung at the closing service in observance of this special date on the Jewish calendar. But where did the whole thing start? To find that out we have to go back to the book of Leviticus in the Hebrew Bible, in which God spells out the ceremonies that are to take place on the original Day of Atonement:God spoke to Moses:
Well I’m glad you asked! Because “Maris” doesn’t mean “Mary.” It means “sea” or “ocean.” So the title literally means, if you keep the same word order: “Hail, Sea Star.” So where did that wording come from?
The original lyrics date back to somewhere around the 9th century and have been attributed to several authors; no final conclusion has been reached on that issue. The words present Mary as a merciful and loving mother, with “Star of the Sea” being a title that especially appealed to travelers praying for a safe journey. The words were sung to Gregorian chant music, which is always anonymous.
Note: this post was originally written about a concert in Oct. 2017 that my own choir performed.
Well my goodness! So far I’ve written about the music in our concert from Anne Kilstofte, Dan Forrest, and Daniel Elder. All three are young and American, actively engaged in composing, arranging, teaching, conducting . . . you name it. To that list I now add Victor C. Johnson, the composer of our lovely opening piece, “Music in the Night.” I had looked up the author of the lyrics, Harriet Prescott Spofford, and found her life story to be quite interesting. She’s a good example of what was called a “lady writer” back in the late 1800’s-early 1900’s, turning out short stories, poems and novels to make money when her father’s business failed.
Image from the Library of Congress, Storer, Florence Edith, artist created circa 1912
The original title of this poem is “Christmas Eve,” and it was published in a book of poems and short stories by Eugene Field called Christmas Tales and Christmas Verse. So those facts would seem to end the matter. It’s a lullaby being sung by a mother to her child at Christmas, with stars and angels in the mix. It must be Mary singing to the baby Jesus, right? Well, I don’t think so.
Why not? First of all, look at the illustration that goes with the poem. It’s of an early 1900’s mother and child—and note the “child” part, as it’s not a baby. Secondly, consider the title: “Christmas Eve,” not “Christmas Night.” Nit-picky to the max, I know, but still! It’s taking place the night before Christmas. I will also take a little credit myself here and say that I found the words of the song to be puzzling the first time I heard it, even before I knew the original title, because there seemed to be a muddle about who’s being addressed. The child who is being sung to sleep is told to “hear the Master calling” and reminded that “the Shepherd calls his little lambs.” It seems clear that the Master and Shepherd titles refer to someone other than the child, right? That’s the way I read it, anyway.
Oh folks, you’d just never believe how much I want to say about “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”! I will try to rein myself in, but it’s hard.
Let’s start with this whole idea of talking to or about stars in poetry or song lyrics. I’ll mention two famous ones here: First, John Keats’ poem “Bright Star, Would I Were Steadfast As Thou Art” and, second, the song “Catch A Falling Star and Put It In Your Pocket.” (I was reminded of the gift that the Lady Galadriel gives to Frodo, the light of a literal star to put in his pocket: “In this phial,’ she said, ‘is caught the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain.” Later, the light from that star glass helps Sam and Frodo in their flight from and fight with the horrible Shelob: “Slowly his hand went to his bosom, and slowly he held aloft the Phial of Galadriel. For a moment it glimmered, faint as a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame.”)
There’s also a tradition of wishing upon a star, particularly the first star to come out in the evening. So, we have “When You Wish Upon a Star” from Disney’s Pinocchio and “Good Night, My Someone” from The Music Man, in which Amaryllis says that you have to say “good night” to your sweetheart on the evening star, but you have to say it as soon as you see it or it doesn’t count. I have no idea where this idea came from, and, once again, I need to restrain myself from a massive Google dive with the terms “star wish upon” or some such. Perhaps there are some mysteries that don’t need to be solved. (I think we all know that the “evening star” isn’t a star at all, but a planet: usually Venus but sometimes Mercury.)
Where does “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” fit into this galaxy of ideas? First, the star is addressed: “Go ahead and twinkle, star!” Sort of in the same league as “Shine on, harvest moon.” Nothing like telling a heavenly body what to do, I always say. (At least, this reading of “twinkle, twinkle” as being an imperative command is the way I’m interpreting this line. None of the commentaries I consulted addressed this issue. I guess the line could also read, “You’re a real twinkler,”) In this poem the star twinkles in order to give light, particularly to travelers. The poet doesn’t deal with why stars twinkle in the first place, probably didn’t know the reason, and probably wouldn’t have cared if she had known. But the star is mysterious: “How much I wonder what you actually are! You’re so far above the world, shining like a diamond.”
I was surprised to find out that these words are not some anonymous folk material but written by someone named Jane Taylor, who wrote a book of poetry called Rhymes for the Nursery, published in 1806. In 1838 the poem was first published with the tune in The Singing Master: First-Class Tune Book.
But what about that tune? It’s French and apparently anonymous, originally used for a poem titled “Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman,” or “La Confidence,” in which a young woman confides in her maman aboutan incident in the woods when she meets up with a young man whom she’s been sighing over. He takes advantage of her weakness, saying, “If you wait too long, you will regret it.” And so, she “fell into his arms.” Nothing at all graphic here, but the story wasn’t considered fitting for children to sing, so a new version was written for the tune in which a child tells her mother that candy is better than logical reasoning. At that point the tune became associated with nursery rhymes and not with love poetry, so it was used for several others besides “Twinkle, Twinkle,” including the “Alphabet song” and “Baa-Baa Black Sheep.” For those of us who have struggled at one time or another with playing the piano, our clearest memories of this tune may come from the set of twelve fiendishly-difficult variations that Mozart wrote. I don’t think I ever got past the first five or six, as they get progressively more fiendish. Alas!
I can’t, of course, neglect to quote from the Lewis Carroll version of the poem. (You’re always safe quoting Lewis Carroll!) The Mad Hatter sings:
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you’re at! Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky.
(Why is the Hatter mad? Ah, that’s a whole other story, one which you will have to look up for yourself.)
And since we’re in Wonderland, perhaps you’ll indulge my including the parody of another song about stars, “Soup of the Evening,” sung by the Mock Turtle. The original is “Star of the Evening,” by someone named James M. Sayles, and I have a feeling that Carroll didn’t like him and/or his verse. Here’s the first stanza from Sayles:
Beautiful star in heav’n so bright , Softly falls thy silv’ry light, As thou movest from earth afar, Star of the evening, beautiful star, Star of the evening, beautiful star.
But the Mock Turtle sings:
Beautiful soup, so rich and green, Waiting in a hot tureen. Who for such dainties would not stoop? Soup of the evening, beautiful soup, Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
I have to include the last verse because of the funny rhyme:
Beautiful soup, Who cares for fish, Game or any other dish? Who would not give all else for twoP ennyworth only of Beautiful Soup?
I originally sang an arrangement of this song in a concert back in the fall of 2017 with my beloved choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, in a most unusually-themed program, “Starry, Starry Night.” No, it had nothing to do with Christmas–we did another concert in December. The arranger of our piece was Daniel Elder, a very young man, born in 1986, who has been writing compositions and winning awards since 2009. His version is gorgeous–and difficult. It’s a cappella, and we struggled mightily to stay on pitch. In the end it was very rewarding, though. And since I revised this article in October 2020 and so many in-person concerts had been cancelled (including ours), I’m using as the performance video a virtual choir version from a high school choir that does, as far as I can tell, stay on pitch:
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the trav’ller in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often thro’ my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
‘Tis your bright and tiny spark,
Lights the trav’ller in the dark,
Tho’ I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
I have been absolutely salivating at the idea of sinking my teeth into this Frost poem. We tend to associate Frost with his familiar and simple poems: “Stopping by Woods,” “The Road Not Taken,” and perhaps “Mending Wall.” Even those poems can be mined for deeper meaning, but when you get to some of his other ones, well! You (or perhaps I) can go on just about forever.
The choir to which I belong performed this piece only two years after its 2015 premier. The composer, Philip Biedenbender, was a senior at St. Olaf College at the time and a member of the famous choir attached to the school. He’s gone on to build a career, with many other works to his credit. You can visit his website 
One of the joys of writing the material on this site is that I have an excuse to dive into the meanings of Christmas songs that I’ve been hearing all my life and always vaguely wondered about. “The Little Drummer Boy” certainly falls into that category. I sort of assumed that it fell into the genre of stories about gifts brought to the Christ child, and indeed it does, but t
This piece repeats the phrase “bish’al han’ilah”–”as the gates begin to close.” So what are these gates?
Note: this post was originally written about a concert in Oct. 2017 that my own choir performed.
Oh folks, you’d just never believe how much I want to say about “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”! I will try to rein myself in, but it’s hard.