woohoo! i'm alive! i was beginning to wonder about myself. yeah yeah I know I haven't been around since kloppyhead…and not solo since i lasted updated one to remember (i know i know but i'm so stuck on it!) and i know this isn't that long…but i heard this song again for the first time awhile and it just completely clicked. i miss writing newsies ff. *pokes ski* if skitch gets in gear (yes, ski, you) there'll be another something partially containing my name up here sometime hopefully soon. Thanks for taking time out to read! adios! kora
A Song For Eos
mush and kloppman belong to disney, the vendors and song lyrics belong to lionel bart.
There was a special sweetness to the early morning. When the first rays on sunshine reflected off the damp cobblestones and a few brave vendors began setting up their carts, their breath making puffy clouds in the cool, clean dawn air, that was the time of day he loved the most. Peace reigned. Few were awake, and those that were respected the reflective silence.
Mush had to admit that while he secretly craved this time of day more than any other, no one else knew about it. This was partially because he was embarrassed of his secret: most newsies wouldn't be caught dead wandering around the streets early when they could be sleeping. Kloppman knew, though only because the kindly old man had caught him sneaking back to bed once just before the others were about to get up.
There was another reason too. A newsie had very few things that were exclusively his own. Mush felt guilty; it was selfish…but he wanted to keep this time for himself. It was the only thing he didn't have to share, and Mush was reluctant to give that up. Sighing, Mush turned and hopped down form his perch on a crate. The sun had risen, and that was his cue to return to the Lodging House. He was on the street of his home and nearly about to enter when a strong, haunting voice stopped him.
Who will buy my sweet red roses?
Two blooms for a penny
Who will buy my sweet red roses?
Two blooms for a penny
That was odd…vendors usually didn't begin selling this early. Well…he had delayed returning a bit: perhaps it was later than he thought. Despite himself, Mush felt his feet drawing him back to the square where another voice sang.
Will you buy any milk today, mistress?
Any milk today, mistress?
There was something entrancing about the singing voices. Something that wouldn't let him walk away. 'Good selling tactic,' thought Mush. 'I should remember this.' Without warning, another ringing voice joined the rose lady's and milkmaid's.
Ripe, strawberries ripe!
Ripe, strawberries ripe!
Mush licked his lips as his stomach grumbled angrily. Ripe strawberries…his hand strayed to his pocket, but upon brushing the few coins there, stopped. He needed those to buy papes. There would be free food from the nuns. Mush cast a glance in the direction of the male voice that had joined the three female.
Knives, knives to grind
Any knives to grind?
The voices were all so compelling—even greater so together—that Mush wished he could be one of them, another voice caught up in their chorus. Mush sighed again and looked up at the sky. Any heavy feelings dissolved and his spirit soared, seeing the blue. The clearest blue he could ever remember. The sun shone brighter than on any other day. Mush felt himself basking in it, floating in it, just as the songs melded together and reached their common climax.
Who will buy?
The next thing Mush knew, all inhibitions were forgotten. He finally understood. The vendors were not singing merely to sell, but to create a choir for celebrating the day. He could not help but be one of them. He heard the world silence and felt his own voice lift to praise it.
Who will buy this wonderful morning?
Such a sky you never did see!
Mush faltered. What was he doing? The others would be up now, and wondering where he was. Then the rose lady sang her song again, and his anxieties dissipated.
Who will tie it up with a ribbon
And put it in a box for me?
The other songs rang only when his was done. Gaining confidence, (or perhaps gradually losing all cares) Mush continued.
So I could see it at my leisure
Whenever things go wrong
And I would keep it as a treasure
To last my whole life long
Mush stepped out from the shadow-cast alley where he'd been standing into the full early morning sunlight. He turned his face up to the sky and stretched his arms out wide.
Who will buy this wonderful feeling?
I'm so high I'd swear I could fly
Mush closed his eyes. It was as if he was flying. The air was so crisp, the sun so gently warm…a touch of wistfulness entered his voice, but was drowned out by the joy and awe.
Me, oh my! I don't want to lose it
So what am I to do
To keep the sky so blue
There must be someone who will buy!
Mush stopped to take a breath and soak in the soaring feeling granted to him by this morning of all mornings. To his astonishment, as the echoes of the vendor's songs faded, they joined together with his voice to his song. Together they sun faster, caught up in the swirling thrill.
Who will buy this wonderful morning?
Such a sky you never did see
Who will tie it up with a ribbon
And put it in a box for me?
A new verse was introduced. They all knew what to sing; their minds were all on the same tingling wavelength.
I've never seen a day so sunny
It could not happen twice
Where is the man with all the money?
It's cheap at half the price!
The morning was nearly upon them now. The last strands of dawn still held on, and with great exuberance the group swung into the last verse.
Who will buy this wonderful feeling?
I'm so high I'd swear I could fly
Me, oh my I don't want to lose it
Suddenly the song stopped. The breeze that had been whipping their hair slowed to a soft caress. It was fading. Mush dew in a deep breath and with the others continued.
So what am I to do
To keep the sky so blue
There must be someone who will buy…
Their echoing voices rang off the cobblestones until, like the early morning magic, they melted away. Turning around, Mush spotted his friends on their way to the Distribution Center. With a contented sigh, he thrust his hands into his pockets and trotted after them.
The End.
an: for those of you who might be wondering, eos is the greek goddess of the dawn.