I sent my Butler to the Land of IreTo bring me back some YeastBecause I needed to bake some breadFor my wedding feast.He came back empty-handed,And I thought my heart would breakWhen he told me he’d been robbedBy a bandit named Billy Blake.That postponed my wedding,And I had to shed a tear,Then locked myself in the bathroomSo I could shake my spear.
And then the chorus:
Drown my head in water.Lay it on the chopping block.You can turn that oil up hotterCause I’m singing, but I ain’t gonna talk.
I had quoted the first lines earlier in connection with The Tarot by Richard Cavendish, which has a portrait of Yeats in it. Today I started reading it. On p. 15, Cavendish mentions that some packs of cards, both Tarot and ordinary playing cards, have portrayed the court cards as historical figures. The first he mentions is Shakespeare (Jack of Diamonds in an 1879 German pack), and another is “La Hire . . . a supporter of Joan of Arc,” whose name is used by the French to this day as a nickname for the Jack of Hearts.
I looked up La Hire. His nom de guerre is believed to have come from the English word ire, with reference to the wrath of God. (Note that as far back as 2016 I had connected the name Claire with the divine ire.)
“Fourth Down” references both Shakespeare (apparently as a euphemism for masturbation!) and the Land of Ire. The chorus is about how torture will make him sing but not talk. I recently quoted Rimbaud saying, just after a Joan of Arc reference, “I am of the race that sang under torture.”