Frère Jacques

Frère Jacques (in French; in English: Brother John, in Dutch: Vader(/Pater) Jacob), is a nursery rhyme of French origin.

Quotes

 * [[File:Frère_Jacques.svg]]
 * Frère Jacques, frère Jacques, Dormez-vous ? Dormez-vous ? Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.
 * Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John? Brother John? Morning bells are ringing! Morning bells are ringing! Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.
 * traditionally translated to English

Quotes about Frère Jacques

 * Jo began to hum, thinking the words in her head. Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? Morning bells are ringing. Morning bells are ringing. Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. She stopped, hoping for a response that didn’t come. Oh, God, please let him answer. Let his little heart be strong. She tried again. Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? Now she heard the resonance of another voice, but it wasn’t Stevie’s. It was Grace, who hummed with Jo, Morning bells are ringing, morning bells are ringing. Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. The two women paused. Once again, only a terrible, silent waiting filled the cabin. Then she heard a smaller voice humming. Are you sleeping, are you sleeping, Brother John, Brother John? It was Scott. Grace joined him, and Jo’s voice became a part of the music, too. Morning bells are ringing. Morning bells are ringing. Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong. To hum was liberating, to fill the cabin with the nearest thing to talk they could achieve. They went through the round once again, Jo praying that she would hear Stevie. But at the end, he was still silent. A moment passed. Then a high little hum, like an echo of the round’s final line, reached her—Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong—and her heart leaped. Stevie was with her, and he knew she was with him. It was so small a triumph, yet she found herself overwhelmed and weeping. She began the round again, and four voices joined in a sound Jo believed the angels would have envied.
 * William Kent Krueger, Purgatory Ridge