“Fiddle-de-dee’s not English.”

You know, I’ll just stick with this one book this week: Checkmate by Dorothy Dunnett (surely you would not have expected anything less from me?). I chose this is one simply because I found the verse curious. Francis Crawford (aka Lymond) is throwing down barrels rather systematically down rooftops as he’s trying to dissuade what looks like the whole of Lyon from coming after him and his companion (”No one could say we hadn’t brought ourselves now to the attention of this majestic metropolis,” says Lymond later).

Towards the end he found some boules and bounced them down as well: they hailed upon barrels and footpads and trilled, with ringing reproach, on the rising helmets of the pikemen beyond them.

“As Snailes do wast within the shel
And unto slime do run
As one before his tyme that fel
And never saw the sunne . . .

“Whoops! That was Adam,” said Francis Crawford, watching open-eyed the progress of his latest invention. “Serve him bloody well right.”

Poor Adam, to be caught in that — I am rather fond of Adam and I didn’t really relish the image of him being crushed like a snail in its shell. (Nothing bad happens to him here, though I must say no one suffers Lymond’s company unscathed.) I found the whole scene hilarious.

This one is from Psalm 58 in English metre. I was quite surprised to learn that! I was wondering why Lymond would have verses about snails handy. Then again, he has quotes about everything in his head, I suppose.