An International Medley of the Ickabog Song

As a bit of fun, Audible pulled together a medley of The Ickabog song that spans the many languages and voices of the audiobook editions. The very talented narrators of The Ickabog audiobooks each performed The Song of The Ickabog in their own unique but brilliant ways.

Included are snippets from the English version by Stephen Fry, the German by Heike Makatsch, French by Aïssa Maïga, Italian by Jasmine Trinca, Japanese by Nanako Matsushima, Spanish by Yalitza Aparicio and the Castilian Spanish version by Aitana Sánchez-Gijón.

See if you can figure out which language is which… You can listen to this delightful medley of talent here.

And, in case you need it here is a reminder of the lyrics:

 

The Song of The Ickabog   

‘At the dawn of time, when only
Ickabogs existed, stony
Man was not created, with his
Cold, flint-hearted ways,
Then the world in its perfection
Was like heaven’s bright reflection.
No one hunted us or harmed us
In those lost, beloved days.
Oh Ickabogs, come Bornding back,
Come Bornding back, my Ickabogs.
Oh Ickabogs, come Bornding back,
Come Bornding back, my own.
Then tragedy! One stormy night
Came Bitterness, Bornded of Fright,
And Bitterness, so tall and stout,
Was different from its fellows.
Its voice was rough, its ways were mean,
The likes of it had not been seen
Before, and so they drove it out
With angry blows and bellows.
Oh Ickabogs, be Bornded wise,
Be Bornded wise, my Ickabogs.
Oh Ickabogs, be Bornded wise,
Be Bornded wise, my own.
A thousand miles from its old home,
Its Bornding time arrived, alone
In darkness, Bitterness expired
And Hatred came to being.
A hairless Ickabog, this last,
A beast sworn to avenge the past.
With bloodlust was the creature fired,
Its evil eye far-seeing.
Oh Ickabogs, be Bornded kind,
Be Bornded kind, my Ickabogs.
Oh Ickabogs, be Bornded kind,
Be Bornded kind, my own.
Then Hatred spawned the race of man,
’Twas from ourselves that man began,
From Bitterness and Hate they swelled
To armies, raised to smite us.
In hundreds, Ickabogs were slain,
Our blood poured on the land like rain.
Our ancestors like trees were felled,
And still men came to fight us.
Oh Ickabogs, be Bornded brave,
Be Bornded brave, my Ickabogs.
Oh Ickabogs, be Bornded brave,
Be Bornded brave, my own.
Men forced us from our sunlit home,
Away from grass to mud and stone,
Into the endless fog and rain.
And here we stayed and dwindled,
’Til of our race there’s only one
Survivor of the spear and gun
Whose children must begin again
With hate and fury kindled.
Oh Ickabogs, now kill the men,
Now kill the men, my Ickabogs.
Oh Ickabogs, now kill the men,
Now kill the men, my own.’

All audiobook versions of The Ickabog are available exclusively from Audible.