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Half a century ago, Belgian Zoologist Bernard Heuvelmans first codified cryptozoology in his book On the Track of Unknown Animals.

The Centre for Fortean Zoology (CFZ) are still on the track, and have been since 1992. But as if chasing unknown animals wasn't enough, we are involved in education, conservation, and good old-fashioned natural history! We already have three journals, the largest cryptozoological publishing house in the world, CFZtv, and the largest cryptozoological conference in the English-speaking world, but in January 2009 someone suggested that we started a daily online magazine! The CFZ bloggo is a collaborative effort by a coalition of members, friends, and supporters of the CFZ, and covers all the subjects with which we deal, with a smattering of music, high strangeness and surreal humour to make up the mix.

It is edited by CFZ Director Jon Downes, and subbed by the lovely Lizzy Bitakara'mire (formerly Clancy), scourge of improper syntax. The daily newsblog is edited by Corinna Downes, head administratrix of the CFZ, and the indexing is done by Lee Canty and Kathy Imbriani. There is regular news from the CFZ Mystery Cat study group, and regular fortean bird news from 'The Watcher of the Skies'. Regular bloggers include Dr Karl Shuker, Dale Drinnon, Richard Muirhead and Richard Freeman.The CFZ bloggo is updated daily, and there's nothing quite like it anywhere else. Come and join us...

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Monday, May 01, 2017

The May Queen: Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)


 
YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow ’ll be the happiest time of all the glad new-year,—
Of all the glad new-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;
For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
There ’s many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine;        5
There ’s Margaret and Mary, there ’s Kate and Caroline;
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land, they say:
So I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break;        10
But I must gather knots of flowers and buds, and garlands gay;
For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,—        15
But I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white;
And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light.
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,
For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.        20
 
They say he ’s dying all for love,—but that can never be;
They say his heart is breaking, mother,—what is that to me?
There ’s many a bolder lad ’ll woo me any summer day;
And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,        25
And you ’ll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen;
For the shepherd lads on every side ’ll come from far away;
And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
The honeysuckle round the porch has woven its wavy bowers,
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;        30
And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows gray;
And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;
There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day;        35
And I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.
 
All the valley, mother, ’ll be fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ll merrily glance and play,
For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.        40
 
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow ’ll be the happiest time of all the glad new-year;
To-morrow ’ll be of all the year the maddest, merriest day,
For I ’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I ’m to be Queen o’ the May.

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