Three songs to words by the Netsilik Innuit Piuvkaq, in which he tells us that he's not very good at writing songs, fishing and hunting. The third ideally requires the singer to use a thunder device, but maybe it's optional.

• I Stood Jigging
• A Bit of a Song
• An Awkward Song

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A setting of Ralph Waldo Emerson's definition of beauty!

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"I saw the weaver of dreams, an immortal shape of star-eyed Silence; and the Weaver of Death, a lovely Dusk with a heart of hidden flame. I knew not, knew not which was more fair: for Death seemed to me as Love, and in the eyes of Dream, I saw Joy. Oh come, come to me, Weaver of Dreams! Come, come unto me, O lovely Dusk, thou that hast the heart of hidden Flame."

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The internal drama of a garden pond, with newts, newtpole and snail, including the absolutely true eye-witness account of a Dreadful Experience by the smaller newt.

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I had a dream, in which I was being swept along a river. A huge banner hung between trees across the river, saying in big letters: "A newt is not another cat." I knew, for sure, that this was of the most profound significance. So I set it to music. The singer is meant to accompany herself or himself.

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My wife said she was sure that Poulenc wrote a song about a mouse that might or might not be part of his Bestière, but she had never been able to track it down, so I wrote one for her. Except that it turned into seven of them:

• The Shrew (Sorex araneus)
• The Dormouse (Muscardinus avellanarius)
• The Pygmy Shrew (Sorex minulus)
• The Water Vole (Arvicola amphibius)
• The Rat (Rattus rattus)
• The House Mouse (Mus musculus)
• The Edible Dormouse (Glis glis)

We have since found a copy of Poulenc’s song, and very nice it is too.

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