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CALLE SCHEVENS WALTZ Evert Taube On Roslagenīs isle, in a flowery bay, Where ripples wash in from the sea, The reeds slowly rock, and the sweet new-mown hay Is wafting its fragrance to me. There I sit alone īmid the trees by the way And gaze at the sea-birds on high. They dive to the water with glitter of spray And feed, while I watch them and sigh. Iīm mixing my coffee quite freely with rum To a strength and a flavour just right! The accordion's measures alluringly come From my cabin so gaily alight. I feel like a boy, though a granddad am I: My spirit my grey hair belies. I only get worse as the years pass me by, With waltzes and maidensī bright eyes. Look – there is a gull with a fish he has caught; But Iīm caught by arms soft and white! My heart is so happy, my years are as naught; Then play, for Iīm dancing to-night! The sea sends a song, and its fragrance the glade; To-night you must stay as my guest. Here dances Calle Scheven with Roslagenīs maid – The sunset is in the Northwest My flowery isle on your bosom you hold, You tranquil and darkling blue seas! While June twilight shadows so tender, enfold All the slumbering bushes and trees. You're dancing so quietly, sweet little miss – I think that all men you despise. It trembles, that small childish hand that I kiss, While in minor the waltz softly dies. But hey, all you fellows who visit my bay Iīm really a sober old man, When morning has come I must stack up my hay, And catch all the fish that I can! The deuce take you, twilight; the morn you disclose In firtops agleam one by one – Here dances Calle Scheven with Roslagenīs rose He dances while up comes the sun!


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