[1026] The Prodigal Son

Here come I to my own again,
Fed, forgiven and known again,
Claimed by bone of my bone again
And cheered by flesh of my flesh.
The fatted calf is dressed for me,
But the husks have greater zest for me,
I think my pigs will be best for me,
So I'm off to the Yards afresh.

I never was very refined, you see,
(And it weighs on my brother's mind, you see)
But there's no reproach among swine, d'you see,
For being a bit of a swine.
So I'm off with wallet and staff to eat
The bread that is three parts chaff to wheat,
But glory be! - there's a laugh to it,
Which isn't the case when we dine.

My father glooms and advises me,
My brother sulks and despises me,
And Mother catechises me
Till I want to go out and swear.
And, in spite of the butler's gravity,
I know that the servants have it I
Am a monster of moral depravity,
And I'm damned if I think it's fair!

I wasted my substance, I know I did,
On riotous living, so I did,
But there's nothing on record to show I did
Worse than my betters have done.
They talk of the money I spent out there -
They hint at the pace that I went out there -
But they all forget I was sent out there
Alone as a rich man's son.

So I was a mark for plunder at once,
And lost my cash (can you wonder?) at once,
But I didn't give up and knock under at once,
I worked in the Yards, for a spell,
Where I spent my nights and my days with hogs.
And shared their milk and maize with hogs,
Till, I guess, I have learned what pays with hogs
And - I have that knowledge to sell!

So back I go to my job again,
Not so easy to rob again,
Or quite so ready to sob again
On any neck that's around.
I'm leaving, Pater.  Good-bye to you!
God bless you, Mater! I'll write to you!
I wouldn't be impolite to you,
But, Brother, you are a hound!

 	-- Rudyard Kipling

Notes: Based on the New Testament parable of the prodigal son (see links)
       Expanded version of a chapter heading from Kim

A delightfully original take on the Prodigal Son story - what I like is how
consistent it is with the original parable. All it does is present matters
from the son's point of view - sure, he asked his father for his share of
his inheritance, and squandered it all, but this is *his* story, and
underscores, as the Biblical one doesn't, that

     ... I didn't give up and knock under at once,
     I worked in the Yards, for a spell

Indeed, the poem highlights both Kipling's talent for presenting the other
point of view, and the delightfully picaresque characters he creates. For
such a short poem, the prodigal son's character is developed with surprising
vividness, and he's definitely someone the reader can sympathise with and
cheer for.

Formwise, the poem presents yet another approach to the triple rhyme,
repeating entire words at the end of consecutive lines. While this may seem
vaguely like 'cheating', it is a perfectly valid form of rhyming (indeed,
a pure rhyme requires that all syllables after the rhyming one be identical,
and what better way to accomplish that?), and quite a bit harder than it
appears. There's also a lot of variation on the basic form, including a run
of *quadruple* rhymes at one point - not something I can remember seeing
attempted elsewhere, though I'd be delighted to be corrected on that score.
Unusual here is Kipling's use of the triple rhyme in an essentially serious
poem - he gets away with it, true, but the cleverness of the rhymes does
obtrude itself upon the foreground in a manner a purist might balk at. The
rest of us can, however, feel free to be entertained and charmed - I
certainly was.

Links:

  The original Prodigal Son parable (King James Version):
    http://miraclevision.com/quakers/luke1511.html

  Biography of Kipling:
    See Poem #17

  Possibly my favourite example of today's sort of rhyme scheme is
  'Reviewing the Situation', from 'Oliver!':
    http://users.bestweb.net/~foosie/oliver.htm
  (No internal links; you'll have to scroll down the page)

  And the theme so far:
    Poem #1023, W. S. Gilbert, 'The Soldiers of our Queen'
    Poem #1025, Newman Levy, 'Thais'

-martin

From: lsteima1 <lsteima1@>

I WOULDN'T SAY I LIKED IT MUCH
BECAUSE MY HEART IT DIDN'T TOUCH
THE TEARS OF FORGIVENESS DIDN'T FLOW
AND THE LOVE OF THE FATHER DIDN'T SHOW
SO I'M BACK TO STUDY THE TALE AGAIN
AND LEARN THAT THE PATH FROM GRACE TO SIN
AND BACK, IS SIMPLY REPENTING DEEP
AND COMING TOGETHER IN PEACE TO SLEEP.

From: "Clayton, Robert" <Robert.Clayton@>

I discovered this poem - the Prodigal Son (Western Version) - in a book of
Kipling's collected poetry, and found it so true to the character of both
the protagonist and the author that I set it to a tune. I'm a singer and
musician, and fond of the settings of Kipling's verse that have been done by
Peter Bellamy (of England) and others*, so when I didn't find any other
writer's setting of this, I set it. I have made a couple of changes, some
for universality ("Pater" is not a commonly-used term, I suspect even among
the upper classes in Britain) and at least one for Biblical accuracy.
Kipling says the son was "sent out there," but the Biblical story makes it
clear that he went on his own, so the "sending" isn't right. I made it "They
all forget what it meant out there / Alone, and a rich man's son." I know
one is not supposed to do that, but I'm a folky, and the folk did that all
the time, if unconsciously.

Your comment about the multiple triple-rhymes is right; as a lyricist, I can
testify that such rhymes are actually quite difficult. Would that I were so
facile in my own writing. Also would that modern sensibilities held rhyme in
higher regard. Sigh. I have written some lovely nineteenth-Century lyrics,
set to twentieth-Century tunes, alas. Writing in the contemporary fashion
seems to be beyond me. Sigh again.

I'm now going back and bookmarking your site.

Thanks

Bob Clayton
Bureaucrat & songwriter


* If you're not familiar with Peter Bellamy's settings of Kipling's poems, I
recommend them. Bellamy as a performer was hard to get used to, to an ear
tuned to popular music, at least, but his approach to Kipling - his basic
premise is that Kipling may have had traditional tunes in mind when certain
poems were written, even if it was unconsciously done - makes for some very
memorable music.

From: alex <viktalexa@>



By Alexander Viktorov

The 1917 Socialist Revolution in Russia is nearing its centennial in 2017. 
The antiglobalization movement, actually anticapitalist, is growing world 
over. Three fourths of the world do not seem to be willing to live on $1 a 
day by 2015, as the UN report predicts... And Russia is Russia...

2017. The Prodigal Son Flees Home Again

His comeback seems now to be made in vain,
And the prodigal son leaves home again.

In vain the fatted calf was for him slaughtered -
He got only a snippet of it and a cup of water.
And the bulk was devoured less than in an hour
By those who were not prodigal any
And who had stayed at home to save every penny,
Who skin prodigal sons and daughters
Having taken them alongside with calves to slaughter.

The prodigal son's father got stuffed to the gills and preaches:
"Look, only at home you can find real riches.
Together with you we can slaughter calves twofold
Then skin them, sell skins and get tenfold in gold.
What good is seeking other ways across life?
You had hardly half a cake a day - now you can have five!
  All our folks will be glad:
Our business will thrive!
To our business you were dead,
And now you are back alive.
You've got a robe, a ring, and Le Monti shoes now.
All you must do, paying back, is to take a vow
That you stay and help me and your elder brother
Market our calves,
In that business we'll go halves:
You'll get more shoes, rings, and robes
Provided you live up to our hopes."

The elder brother came scowling and grinning:
«It seems to be paying - not working but sinning:
Behold, a fatted calf has been killed in your honor
And me - I am looked at as if I'm a donor..."
But the father cut his elder son short:
"Stop seeing a mote in your brother's eye!
He is back to become yours and mine ward
To stop him for ever from saying "good-bye"...
Well, I've had enough, 1 am tired and gonna couch...
But I don't want you to have a fight with your brother,
I am too old now to organize you another...
Since for peace this night neither of you can vouch
I'll put you, my prodigal boy, under lock and key
In our guest room so I have a guarantee
That I find you alright tomorrow,
You have given me, quitting once, enough sorrow..."

  So the prodigal son got accommodated,
But all familial cares now come to him belated.
He can't sleep because of his heartfelt battle:
No, he's unprepared to skin and sell cattle,
He'd left his home for a freedom's mock...
And then he heard someone tamper with the lock,
He heard a key-turning rattle
And he readied himself for a home battle.
He turned to face the comer - one or another,
And the comer came to be his eider brother,
Who smirked a grin: "Brother, now it's my sin.
You won't anyway bring any grist to our mill,
You have got your own flagpole to shin
Who knows, maybe one day you'll win...
So you may go or do as you will."
"Thank you, brother, I thank you for that brotherly cup.
It was my error to have returned
To disturb you and our father and what you have earned...
Now I have to go - the time is up
To see again plains and trees, and waters, and birds,
And walk on, on and on
Along mountain paths and in all kind of dirts
To see in the very end The Kingdom of John ."*

“Okay, brother, you may go
To spare our family another woe...”
They parted without kiss,
And the prodigal son walked
Across the pain trying not to miss
The path so the East that people had talked
To be the path to the real bliss.

As he was just in the very start,
He heard a voice as if it was a dart:
  “Stay, brother, don't be that speedy!
Share your way with me, be not so greedy.
I want also to see plains and trees, and waters, and birds,
To hear other nations talk, to learn foreign words.”
The prodigal son delayed and waited
For his elder brother to join him.
They had never been indeed closely related
And he believed his elder brother's word just a whim.
But the elder brother put his hand on the younger one's shoulder
And they walked on and on, the younger and the older...

The prodigal son's new history yet has not got much renown.
Maybe you have seen the two brothers passing thru your village or town?

*The Kingdom of Presbyter John was a legendary kingdom in the medieval 
East believed to be a hypothetical "Golden Age" state founded by a British 
crusader..