Carol-barking

Laurie Lee • read by Rita Roberts

An excerpt from Cider with Rosie, about carolling with his friends as a young boy in rural Gloucestershire, just before Christmas.

“Coming carol-barking then?”

We were the Church Choir, so no answer was necessary.  For a year we had praised the Lord out of key, and as a reward for this service – on top of the Outing - we now had the right to visit all the big houses, to sing our carols and collect our tribute.

After travelling around the village and local farms – a journey of about five miles in snowy weather - singing at each house we were coming towards the end.

Crossing at last the frozen mill-stream, we climbed up to Joseph’s farm. Sheltered by trees, warm on its bed of snow, it seemed always to be like this. As always it was late; as always this was our final call. The snow had a fine crust upon it, and the old trees sparkled like tinsel.

We grouped ourselves round the farmhouse porch. The sky cleared, and the broad streams of stars ran down over the valley and away to Wales.

Everything was quiet; everywhere there was the faint crackling silence of the winter night.  We started singing, and we were all moved by the words and the sudden trueness of our voices.

Pure, very clear, and breathless we sang:

As Joseph was a walking
He heard an angel sing;
This night shall be the birth-time
Of Christ the Heavenly King.

He neither shall be borned
In Housen nor in hall.
Nor in a place of paradise
But in an ox’s stall.

And 2,000 Christmases became real to us then; the houses, the halls, the places of paradise had all been visited; the stars were bright to guide the Kings through the snow; and across the farmyard we could hear the beasts in their stalls.  We were given roast apples and hot mince- pies, in our nostrils were spices like myrrh, and in our wooden box, as we headed back for the village, there were golden gifts for all.