Jeppe Aakjær (1866-1930): 'Jens Vejmand'

Jeppe Aakjær wrote a poem/song in 1905 about a roadman called Jens Vejmand, based on a real-life character Jens Nielsen (1832-1901), who was employed under Ringkøbing County in west Jutland and given the responsibility for a section of the road between Herning and Holstebro. He worked on this until de died. It is said that Jeppe Aakjær paid his successor 25 øre to tell him about his predecessor. The song was set to music by Carl Nielsen two years later and became immensely popular.

Jens Vejmand

Hvem sidder der bag Skjærmen

med Klude om sin Haand,

med Læderlap for Øjet

og om sin Sko et Baand?

Det er saamænd Jens Vejmand,

der af sin sure Nød

med Ham’ren maa forvandle

de haarde Sten til Brød.

Og vaagner du en Morgen

i allerførste Gry

og hører Ham’ren klinge

paany, paany, paany,

det er saamænd Jens Vejmand

paa sine gamle Ben,

som hugger vilde Gnister

af morgenvaade Sten.

Og ager du til Staden

bag Bondens fede Spand,

og møder du en Olding,

hvis Øjne staar i Vand —

det er saamænd Jens Vejmand

med Halm om Ben og Knæ,

der næppe ved at finde

mod Frosten mer et Læ.

Og vender du tilbage

i Byger og i Blæst,

mens Aftenstjærnen skjælver

af Kulde i Sydvest,

og klinger Hammerslaget

bag Vognen ganske nær —

det er saamænd Jens Vejmand,

som endnu sidder dér.

Saa jævned han for andre

den vanskelige Vej,

men da det led mod Julen,

da sagde Armen nej;

det var saamænd Jens Vejmand,

han tabte Ham’ren brat,

de bar ham over Heden

en kold Decembernat.

Der staar paa Kirkegaarden

et gammelt frønnet Bræt;

det hælder slemt til Siden,

og Malingen er slet.

Det er saamænd Jens Vejmands.

Hans Liv var fuldt af Sten,

men paa hans Grav — i Døden,

man gav ham aldrig én

Jens Roadman

Who’s sitting by the shelter

with hands where rags do cling,

with eye-patch made of leather

and shoes held on with string?

It’s no one but Jens Roadman

who must, shall he be fed,

transform with his own hammer

the hard stones into bread.

And should you wake one morning

as dawn begins to soar

and hear a hammer clanging

once more, once more, once more,

It’s no one but Jens Roadman

on old legs once so true

who sends wild sparks a-flying 

from stones now wet with dew.

And should you travel townwards

behind the farmer’s mares,

and pass beside an old man

eyes watering with tears –

It’s no one but Jens Roadman,

straw-clad round legs and knees,

who seeks in vain for shelter

so he won’t have to freeze.

And should you journey homewards

while showers and gales molest,

the evening star a-trembling

from cold in due southwest,

and hear the hammer singing

behind you close somewhere –

It’s no one but Jens Roadman 

who still is sitting there.

And so he smoothed for others

the road that’s hard to go,

but when it came to Christmas

his arm said to him ‘No.’

’Twas no one but Jens Roadman,

his hammer fell from sight,

they bore him o’er the heath on

a cold December night.

There stands within the churchyard

a board now half-decayed;

that skews obliquely sideways,

its paintwork faint and frayed.

It’s no one but Jens Roadman,

his life was full of stones,

but on his grave they gave him

not one to mark his bones.

Listen to the 1941 recording with Aksel Schiøtz here