Cittern
The cittern or cithren (Fr. cistre, It. cetra, Ger. zitter, zither, Sp. cistro, cedra, cítola) is a stringed instrument dating from the Renaissance. Modern scholars debate its exact history, but it is generally accepted that it is descended from the Medieval citole, or cytole. It looks much like the modern-day flat-back mandolin and the modern Irish bouzouki. Its flat-back design was simpler and cheaper to construct than the lute. It was also easier to play, smaller, less delicate and more portable. Played by all classes, the cittern was a premier instrument of casual music-making much as is the guitar today.
Pre-modern citterns
The cittern is one of the few metal-strung instruments known from the Renaissance period. It generally has four courses (single, pairs or threes) of strings, one or more course being usually tuned in octaves, though instruments with more or fewer courses were made. The cittern may have a range of only an octave between its lowest and highest strings and employs a re-entrant tuning - a tuning in which the string that is physically uppermost is not the lowest, as is also the case with the five-string banjo and most ukuleles for example. The tuning and narrow range allow the player a number of simple chord shapes useful for both simple song accompaniment and dances, however much more complex music was written for it. Its bright and cheerful timbre make it a valuable counterpoint to gut-strung instruments. The Spanish bandurria, still used today, is a similar instrument.
Sea Train
Comin' in easy on the sea train.
Walkin' out under the fog again,
And the sky don't explain
If I'm up or across or down, town around just like then.
The neon screen will never know when.
Be quiet or dream,
And just not crowd the scenes
Of my mind's sound.
I'm goin' under and comin' on out
To see you again.
My mind's been wanderin', but I'm about
To meet you again.
The rhythm of hearts plays in my veins
Like some long-gone lonesome sea train.
I'm only sure that the weather would break if I did.
They'll come easy, then go glad.
Your child at the window says the rain don't look sad,
And you ask me who's mad
As you show me your lost and found.
Down, you're bound again.
With your fan, my fire turns to wind
Your glass fills mine with sand,
You shout, "I'm not your land!"
And I hear the ground.
I'm a weeping shadows, feeling like a willow
Bearing Martha's flower; as the sun comes, I come.
Far across the street, clear across the stream,
The sun shall come.
If you're in a tree and the forest falls, who hears you?
[musical interlude]
And the hills meet the wind, making dew.
We see us again.
As the sun behind clouds, breaking through,
We're gonna meet them again.
The rhythm of hearts plays through my veins
Like some long-gone lonesome sea train.
Rain in the meadow beats the river to the ocean.
