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.)
Whatever. On to the author and origin of the song. Didn’t you just assume, if you thought about it at all, that this was a folk song? It’s not, since it has a known author, the poet Bernard de la Monnoye, who lived from 1641-1728. What a fascinating character! He pursued many paths in his life, working in law and finance to pay the bills but much preferring the literary life, writing poetry, essays and criticism. At some point he decided to write some Christmas carols, doing so under a pseudonym and using the dialect of Burgundy, the region of France best known for its wines and also mustard (the city of Dijon is located there). Why someone who prided himself on being such a sophisticated member of France’s intellectual society chose to write simple carols in a rustic dialect is one of those unanswered questions we’ll just have to live with. I think he wanted to see if he could do a good job with such material, and the ironic thing is that “Pat-a-Pan” is his only work that’s still known today.
So what’s going on in the song? It’s assumed in most material about this carol that the two boys are shepherds, joining in with the others in the Nativity story to go see the Christ Child:
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.
And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. (Luke 2:15-16 KJV, and please note that there’s no comma between “babe” and “lying in a manger”—otherwise Mary and Joseph are in there too!)
You know what, though? I don’t think the boys are shepherds at all. One source says that “the praise they give is symbolic of the village community as a whole giving praise to God.” Please forgive my English-teacher wonkery here, but hey! This is important. Let’s look at the words themselves. Our English translation is pretty close to the original Burgundian French:
When the men of olden days
To the King of Kings gave praise,
On the fife and drum did play.
See how these lines reference the past? It’s not even clear that “the men of olden days” were the shepherds in the biblical story. They could just as easily be the Wise Men, or indeed earlier generations of French people. In other words, you’d be getting a much clearer picture of what de la Monnoye had in mind if you visualized a medieval village with a procession going down the main street and participants shouting out for others to join in.
There’s quite a bit of theology in this seemingly-simple carol. Most modern versions omit this verse:
Today the devil is vanquished,
Let’s thank Jesus for it,
To the sound of these instruments
Tu-re-lu-re-lu, pat-a-pat-a-pan,
To the sound of these instruments
Let us mock Satan.
Christian teaching says that the coming of Christ was a means of salvation. Another (much older) carol, “The Holly and the Ivy,” says, Christ came “to be our sweet Saviour” and to “do poor sinners good.” All of this is to undo the work of Satan. So in our carol the fife and drum aren’t meant to be playing a pretty lullaby at all; they’re a way to razz Satan. Isn’t that interesting?
Even if we’re not singing that particular verse, though, we do have a couple of lines that emphasize the idea of reconciliation between God and people:
God and man are now become
More in tune than fife and drum.
The French says that God and man are “plus d’accord”—that is, “more in agreement,” a good way to express the biblical idea of reconciliation. (If I may interject even more wonkery here, let me tell you that when French people are having a discussion and have reached a conclusion, their idiomatic expression is “D’accord!”)
On to a couple of other points: It makes sense that Robin’s instrument is called a “fife” as well as a flute, since a fife is simply a smaller instrument and thus easier for a child to play. Fifes (which are similar to piccolos) can have a very piercing tone and thus have sometimes been used in battle along with a drum to rally the troops. We’re all familiar with fife-and-drum corps, as well as drum-and-bugle corps (the bugle having a piercing sound also), and may inevitably picture those groups wearing three-cornered hats because of their associations with the American Revolutionary War. Boys were often used to play these instruments in battle; they couldn’t fire a musket but could play a part (sorry) anyway. In any case, both the drum (actually a tambour, a small drum that could be slung on a strap over the shoulder, so the picture above isn’t very accurate) and fife are both very simple to play and thus within the abilities of the two boys.
Which leads us, inevitably, to that other Christmas carol, “The Little Drummer Boy,” which I’ve written about in an earlier post. Some sources want to say that “Pat-a-Pan” was a precursor or source of TLDB, but folks, that is simply not true. Don’t these people read Wikipedia? Honestly! Anyway, the author of TLDB, Katherine K. Davis, clearly put on her sheet music that the carol was a “Czech Carol freely transcribed by K.K.D.” It’s fair to point out that no one’s ever been able to find that original Czech song, but whatever it was, it wasn’t French! So there.
Well, the poor tenors and bases, whether in de la Monnoye’s or Davis’s carol, are stuck with singing the same thing over and over, imitating a drum. (I was going to say, “that blasted drum,” but decided not to be mean-spirited.) So, just as we’re falling into that rhythm automatically (and perhaps falling asleep at the switch), the rhythm changes! I’m always caught by surprise when this happens. Do ya think that “pa-rum-pum-pum” or “pat-a-pan” is the more onomatopoetic? It’s probably some test of your personality as to which you prefer.
I was sure that there’d be tons of fife-and-drum corps performances of PAP on YouTube, but no such luck. However, I stumbled onto this delightful performance by a local group, the Rocky Mountain Wind Symphony, performing just last Christmas. They’re really good!
But I guess I should include people actually singing this carol:
Note: The wonderful choir to which I belong, the Cherry Creek Chorale, is performing Karl Jenkins’ arrangement of “Pat-a-pan” in its December 2024 concert (link is to the ticket page–plan to come if you’re in the Denver area), and I noticed that he doesn’t use the names “Willie” and “Robin” but “Ishmael” and “Martha.” As far as I’ve been able to tell, this name change is original with and limited to him. “Ishmael” was the name of Abraham’s first son, born of the Egyptian maid Hagar, and he is traditionally seen as the father of the Arab/Muslim nations. “Martha” is a Jewish name, but it’s also female. I think Jenkins was having a little private joke here by changing the names. The arrangement is clearly labeled “trad Burgundy,” but of course Jenkins can do whatever he wants with a non-copyrighted piece.
© Debi Simons
