Ingrid: There once was a king—
Mungo: King of England?
Ingrid: No. This king's kingdom was far-flung, stretching along the banks of every winding river, spreading into all the angles of the world.
Mungo: He must have been a very strong king. The strongest! Did everything belong to him?
Ingrid: Almost everything. One evening he was sitting on the bank of his longest river, watching the sun sink behind the weeping willows—
Mungo: And the nightingales calling from the darkening branches.
Ingrid: Only they weren't nightingales. They were two monks ringing a tinkling bell, singing a sad lingering song in a strange tongue no longer known among the younger subjects of his far-flung kingdom.
Mungo: It's beginning to be interesting. But I'm getting hungry. Can you bring me something to eat and drink, do you think, Ingrid?
Listen a jazz chant and practice it.