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The Miller's Tale

from The Rap Canterbury Tales by Baba Brinkman



Listen to this tune: it's about a rich man
Licking a silver spoon, who lived in a mansion,
And rented a room to this young scholar kid,
Who'd been to the two most respected colleges
For logic and philosophy; now he got scholarships,
But he still lived in poverty due to the preposterous
Cost of living; without a dollar he lived as an Astrologist
And followed his dreams; his name was Nicholas,
And when it came to women his game was limitless.
The ladies he visited became libidinous
When he played his instruments; he'd just lick his lips
And sing a melody as sweet as licorice.
His virility eclipsed the man he was living with,
A rich, elderly fella whose name was John;
Now his flame was gone, and still he'd married a young filly
Who was really beyond his ability to satisfy,
‘Cause in the sack this guy was on disability.
He was prone to senility, pride and jealousy;
He slept with open eyes, terrified of infidelity.
His wife brought humility to life; in the village she
Liked to shop, wearing her husband's ring,
With her cheeks painted up a slutty pink.
Her name was Alison, and she had a naughty stink;
Her mouth was said to be as sweet as bubbly drink,
And if you saw her on the street, you'd probably think
She was a hottie, and had the body of a mink.

You'd probably think a lot of things, and start groveling,
Especially if she dropped a wink, heart-softening,
With flirting glances that often fling a person's senses
Off the brink, and begin work against us.
Now Nicholas waited for the right circumstances,
And eventually he managed to catch her defenseless,
And he reached beneath her skirt with perverted intentions.
It was beneath her to stand such utter disrespect,
And she refused this would-be lover's kiss with threats
That she would scream bloody murder, and risk his neck.
Though to him it seemed like just a twisted test,
And Nicholas persisted until her lips were set,
And dripping wet, as lips are quick to get
If caressed into bliss by gifted breath,
And Nicholas pressed her with his best
Tricks, until at last she just said yes
To the gist of his request for elicit sex,
Except she explicitly told him this, direct
She said:
"My husband is jealous, as well as overzealous;
He's a menace when it comes to me lookin' at other fellas;
You can tell his love is hellish, so while this develops
We need to keep it secret, so that he doesn't kill us!"
Nicholas wasn't filled with fear; he was cool,
He was like, "You think I've spent all these years at school
Without preparing the tools to make married men fools?
I'm aware of the rules; just watch the master at work!"
And with these brash words, he patted her curves,
Grabbed at her, kissed her, and had his last flirt,
Before she gathered her skirts and went to mass at her church.

Now this church had a clerk whose name was Absalon,
A romantic, emasculate man who had this long
Hair that was blond and brushed so that it shone.
His back was not strong, but what he lacked in brawn,
He made up with his passion when he played and practiced on
His fiddle, dancing drunk at taverns 'til his cash was gone.
Now it happened that Absalon's fancy chanced upon
Alison, and he began to romance and fawn,
And prance on her lawn,
Panting fondly, chanting pansy songs,
But her husband wasn't jealous; he would laugh, catching on,
And ask, "What's wrong, honey, can't you hear Absalon,
Prattling on?" And she would stretch and yawn:
"He won't take no for an answer, John."
So Absalon kept his pants on; his hopes were slim;
He was a joke to them, and Alison hardly noticed him,
‘Cause her devotion went instead to Nicholas,
Whose wits were spent in a wicked attempt
To trick her husband into giving them
A chance to get busy in original sin.

Now, this is what Nicholas did to begin:
He went to his bedroom on the top floor,
And he stayed there with a locked door
For three days, inquisitive knocks ignored,
And he gazed at the stars, lost and absorbed,
And he played with his astrology charts,
And since John had no knowledge of these arts,
When he broke in, he saw what he thought
Was a man possessed, caught in a sleepwalk,
And never suspected it was all a cheap fraud.
He said:
"Nicholas, what's wrong, have you lost your mind?
You've been watching the skies for an awful long time,
Clouding your eyes with astrological signs,
This is not wise!"

Nicholas thought of a lie that would leave John blind.
He dropped to his knees and said, "You will not believe
What I've seen with my astrology! In all honesty,
It's a prophecy, a vision from God!
Man's hypocrisy is really pissin' Him off,
And makin’ a mockery of all the wisdom and love
He's offering. John, this isn't a bluff!
He's not pleased, and now it's His decision to flood
The earth with rough seas, again, and drown the wicked in blood.

“But you and your wife, plus me, will be lifted above
The slaughter. Us three can just drift in a tub
Until the waters recede and He's given it up.
But we've gotta prepare, and I solemnly swear
That God declared we’re supposed to hang this tub up in the air,
At the top of the house, and when the flood gets there,
We can cut the ropes and float out, with nothin' to fear!”

Now this foolish man just threw his hands up in despair,
Flustered and scared, and cried:
"It just isn't fair!"
But he had to put his trust in God's justice and care;
He was thankful, at least, that his instructions were clear.
He spent the day in his workshop, with dust in his hair,
Building this tub; first he constructed it there,
Then he dragged it to his house, and he lugged it upstairs,
And suspended it so that it hung up in the air,
And could be cut free if the “flood” should appear.

Once he'd gotten prepared, John offered a prayer
To comfort his spirit, and fell asleep in the tub,
Exhausted, and there we'll leave him, above
Where Nicholas and Alison conduct their secret love.
Blushing, the two of them rushed to the very place
John was usually tucked, and there they laid,
And crudely made lust, and while the pair played
In the night's dark shade, Absalon came,
Beneath the window pane, calling Alison's name,
With the flame of love alive in his brain,
Which he tried to explain by describing his pain.

He sighed, "The way you act is a crying shame!
Forsaken and sad, I strive in vain,
Wasting my breath on sacred pacts,
Waiting patiently for you to pay them back!"
Alison sat up, raging mad,
And laughed in his face with disdainful wrath:
"Take that ‘sacred pact’ heartbreak crap
Away from this place, you disgraceful rat!"

"But wait," she said, "I take it back;
You can have a kiss, if you wish, but make it fast!"
The night was slate-black as she raised the glass,
And displayed her backside and waited, relaxed,
As Absalon reached out his lips and gave it his best,
And proudly kissed the middle of her naked ass.
But something was weird: it tasted bad,
And had a beard of long, rough hairs.
Absalon's fears were given a nudge
When Alison giggled and slammed the window shut.
He didn't blow up, but he did hold a grudge.
When he realized the ass-kiss was true,
Absalon knew what he just had to do.
He ran quickly to this blacksmith he knew,
And asked if he'd do a favour, as a friend's requirement,
Inquiring if he could borrow the man's branding iron,
Which happened to be standing in the fire he was fanning
Higher to get it heated. When he had what he needed,
Absalon proceeded back to the scene at
The mansion, where he'd been mistreated,
And in his sweetest voice he pleaded:

"Oh, ‘Lover Lips,’ it would be utter bliss
If you could see fit to give me another kiss!"

Above, Nicholas had gotten up to piss,
And he muttered in a muffled whisper under his breath:
"What a glutton for punishment this sucker is!"
So he slid his butt out the window up to his hips,
Sensing nothing amiss, with his grip to hold him steady,
But Absalon couldn't guess where to strike, so instead he
Cried, "Say something, Miss!" and Nicholas broke wind heavy,
The sound thunderous, like a motor revving.
For Absalon there was no forgetting; he knew this joke already,
But this time he had his red-hot poker ready,
And he reached overhead and scalded his ass badly.
With the hole in his flesh expanding, Nicholas ran
Through the house, cauterized, screaming, "Water! Water!"
Cries of "water" started to rise up and surprised
John, who thought his cries were because he saw the water rise
When the flood arrived. Suddenly, he shot upright,
And before he'd even got his eyes opened well,
John reached out with his pocketknife, cut the rope, and fell
From up on high, without a hope in hell,
And broke his elbow when he smoked the windowsill.
But the greatest shame of all was when the neighbours came
To investigate the screams, ‘cause the others made it seem
Like John was plain insane, raving about Noah,
Roped up in a boat, waiting for the flood to show up.

They all had a good laugh at these three sad saps:
John with his fractured arm, flat on his back,
And Absalon's kiss, smack dab in the crack,
And Nicholas with the flesh of his ass scabbed black,
And Alison sat back, relaxed, and laughed,
The only one left with her rep intact,
And that's the end of that, as a matter of fact!


from The Rap Canterbury Tales, released December 6, 2004


all rights reserved



Baba Brinkman New York, New York

Science rapper and inventor of several novel hip-hop variants. Canadian transplant to New York. Pathological optimist.

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