A song from an adaptation of Geraldine McCaughrean’s novel The Stones Are Hatching, with music by Alexander Rudd, performed by Julie Atherton. SCENE 3 There are washing lines at the river. Phelim, a boy of about 13, sees a woman washing a shirt. The Washer All these shirts. So many shirts, so many men dead,. Old men, young men… boys. Oh look. Well, look at that. What a thing. This your shirt is it, laddie? She holds up a shirt that’s exactly like the one he’s wearing, stains and rips and everything. The voice of Phelim's older sister Prudence appears in his head. Prudence I’m not buying you a new one, Phee McScruffy. You’re just pushing out your chest, pretending the buttons don’t meet. Stop it. Stop it! The Washer Looks a bit like it, doesn’t it? Phelim Well, yes, but I… The Washer Looks exactly the same, if you ask me. Your shirt is it, laddie? Prudence You can use the old dust rags to make it bigger. I’m not sewing it for you, Phee McLazy. Do it yourself. Phelim tries to get his sister out of his head. Phelim Not real not real not real… The Washer Your shirt is it, laddie? Phelim No. I mean, it’s very like it, but… * SONG: YOUR SHIRT IS IT LADDIE? (The Washerwoman) * The Washer Your shirt is it, laddie? And it’s in such a mess. Whose blood is it? Can you guess? The same darn on the elbows. The same paint on the cuff. But is it exactly the same, boy? You’re not looking close enough. The deceased owners of the shirts on her washing lines inhabit their clothing once more, and join THE WASHER in the song. The Washer & The Shirts Your shirt is it, laddie? And it’s in such a mess. Whose blood is it? Can you guess? The Washer This one belonged to a sailor. Spent all his life on the sea. His body rots under the ocean, but his shirt came back to me. The Washer & The Shirts Your shirt is it, laddie? And it’s in such a mess. Whose blood is it? Can you guess? The Washer This one is covered in coal dust. Must’a got lost in the mine. Gasping for breath in the darkness to fill up my washing line. Here’s one who fought for his country. Never expected to die. His blood is congealed on the battlefield and now he can never ask why! The Shirts Why? Why? Why? Why? The Washer & The Shirts Your shirt is it, laddie? And it’s in such a mess. Whose blood is it? Can you guess? Your shirt is it, laddie? And it’s in such a mess. Whose blood is it? Can you guess?
*This may be theoretical theatre, but it’s still protected by Copyright © 2005 by Jenifer Toksvig, Alexander Rudd, and Geraldine McCaughrean All Rights Reserved. You can also follow my work via The Copenhagen Interpreters’ group on Facebook, and BlueSky / Mastodon / Threads / Instagram / Linktree. The Substack is currently free to subscribe, but you can buy me a coffee here!
