There’s a whole category of Christmas songs/carols that concern the bringing of gifts to the Christ child in Bethlehem. My own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, is singing a less-familiar one, “Son of Maria,” but more accurately “Son of the Mother” (“El Noi de la Mare“), which is also sometimes titled “Carol of the Gifts.” It is labeled as a traditional piece from Catalonia, a region of Spain that has seen its fair share of conflict over its periodic attempts to become an independent nation. I was surprised to see the number of carols (14) listed on Wikipedia as having come from this region; we are also singing the “Carol of the Birds,” which I plan to write about later on this blog. Because this is a traditional folk song, there is no “original” version. Instead, the song would have been passed down orally for generations and then finally written down, but these written lyrics vary immensely. Here’s a simple version used in a medley by the great Karl Jenkins; since it’s not being used as a stand-alone piece it needed to be fairly short. I’ll share some additional wording later in this post.
Son of Maria, Son of Maria.
What shall we give to the Son of Maria?
What can we give him that he will enjoy?
Bunches of grapes we will give to the infant,
baskets of figs for the beautiful boy.
Son of Maria.
What can we give to the Son of Maria?
What can we give to the beautiful boy?
Olives and walnuts and raisins and honey,
cherries and figs and some dates to enjoy.
Son of Maria.
Tampatam tam if the figs will not ripen,
what shall we do if the figs are still green?
Tampatam tam when our sins are forgiven,
Lovely ripe figs will at Easter be seen.
Tampatam tam when our sins are forgiven,
lovely ripe figs will at Easter be seen.
The sheet music says “English words by Carol Barratt after a translation from the Spanish”
Barratt is Karl Jenkins’ wife and a music educator in her own right.
Let’s get the two guys out of the way first. Here’s what I found: the names are common in old French carols, where they are rendered as “Guillô” and, well, “Robin.” The French version of “Willie” is pronounced “Gwee-yo.” Robin’s name is “Ro-bɛ̃,” with that funny-looking “e” being fairly nasal and the “n” not really being pronounced at all—it’s just a marker for the nasal sound. Everybody got that? Anyway, I’m sure if I dug around long enough I could discover why these two names are sort of generic, but I’ll leave it at that, because there’s more ground to cover here. You can just figure that Willie and Robin are like Jack and Jill, or Jim and John, or Lucy and Ethel. (But see the note at the very end of this post about the alternate names that Karl Jenkins used in his arrangement of this carol.)