1. |
Round Window
04:41
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I wish I could swim the river
(Singing for a ring of roses
Shrapnel beads are raindrops that fall)
I wish I could breathe it forever
(Clustering down from a glowering sky
Crater to crater the trespassers crawl)
Behind the green rimmed mirror
Postcards pinned to the wall
Come unstuck at the edges
And the night starts to fall
Changes are gathering quickly
In from the western sky
He watches through the round window
Fast moving clouds going by
The house murmurs on its foundations
As a passing train
Rattles the blue and white china
Above the noise of the rain
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2. |
The Unquiet Grave
07:00
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Cold blows the wind to my true love
And gently drops the rain
I only had but one true love
In greenwood he lies slain
I'll do as much for my true love
As any young maid may
I'll sit and mourn all on his grave
For twelve months and one day
When twelve months and one day was past
The ghost began to speak
Why sit you here all on my grave
And will not let me sleep?
There's one thing that I want, sweetheart
There's one thing that I crave
And that is a kiss from your lily white lips
Then I'll go from your grave
My lips they are as cold as the clay
My breath smells earthly strong
And if you kiss my cold grey lips
Your days they won't be long
Go fetch me water from the desert
And blood from out of a stone
Go fetch me the milk from a fair maid's breast
A young man never has known
'Twas down in yonder garden
Where you and I would walk
The fairest flower that ever I saw
Is withered to a stalk
The stalk is withered and dry, sweetheart
And the flower will never return
And since I lost my own true love
What can I do but yearn?
When shall we meet again, sweetheart
When shall we meet again?
When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again
Weep not for me my own true love
Mourn not for me, I pray
But make yourself content my love
Till God calls you away
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3. |
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Dh'iath ceò nan stùc mu aodann Chùilinn
Is sheinn a' bhean-shìth a torman mulaid
Gorm shùilean ciùin 's an dùn a' sileadh
O'n thriall thu bhuainn 's nach till thu tuilleadh
Cha till, cha till, cha till MacCriomain
An cogadh no sìth cha till e tuilleadh
Le airgiod no nì cha till MacCriomain
Cha till e gu bràth gu latha na cruinne
Tha osag nam beann gu fann ag imeachd
Gach sruthan 's gach allt gu mall le bruthach
Tha ealtainn nan speur feadh gheugan dubhach
A' caoidh gun dh'fhalbh 's nach till thu tuilleadh
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4. |
Buain A'Choirce
03:15
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Latha dhomh 's mi buain a'choirce
Gheàrr mi beum 's cha robh e socair
Refrain:
Horo sna hoir ri ri o
Hi ri ri ri horo eile
Horo sna hoir ri ri o
Gheàrr mi beum 's cha robh e socair
Ghèarr mi mo ghlùn is leig mi osna
Ghèarr mi mo ghlùn is leig mi osna
Shuidh mi air uachdair a'ghoirtein
Shuidh mi air uachdair a'ghoirtein
Dh'fheuch am faicinn fear do choltais
Dh'fheuch am faicinn fear do choltais
Fear 'chùil duinn 's nan gruaidhean dosrach
Fhaoilinn bhig a shnamhas an caolas
Beir mo shoraidh bhuam gu'm leannain
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5. |
Blackbirds & Thrushes
03:48
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Oh Sally my dear, it's you I'd be kissing
Oh Sally my dear, it's you I'd be kissing
She smiled and replied you don't know what you're missing
Oh Sally my dear, I wish I could bed you
Oh Sally my dear, I wish I could bed you
She smiled and replied then you'd say I'd misled you
If all the young girls were hares on the mountain
If all the young girls were hares on the mountain
How many young men would take guns and go hunting
If young girls could sing like blackbirds and thrushes
If young girls could sing like blackbirds and thrushes
How many young men would go beating the bushes
If all the young girls were like rushes a-growing
If all the young girls were like rushes a-growing
How many young men would take scythes and go mowing
If all the young girls were fish in the water
If all the young girls were fish in the water
How many young men would undress and swim after
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6. |
Spirits of the Dead
02:19
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Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.
The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.
The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
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7. |
Leafblower
03:41
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First day of autumn when the trees are turning gold
The man next door goes out to blow some leaves
(Leafblower) Early in the autumn when the leaves begin to fall
(Leafblower) My neighbour gets his blower out and drives me up the wall
(Leafblower) Humming and a-whining as the leaves fly through the air
(Leafblower) Spoiling my recordings till I'm going bloody spare
Can't use a rake like everybody else
Pointless powertools give him his kicks
Likes to piss the neighbours off by making loads of noise
Wasting electricity to get his fix
(Leafblower) Blowing to the left hand side and blowing to the right
(Leafblower) Blowing back the other way to shove them out of sight
(Leafblower) Blowing up the garden path and blowing down the street
(Leafblower) Leaves are splatted on my car and get stuck on my feet
First day of autumn when the trees are turning gold
Visions fly like leaves in front of me
Autumn days when the grass is jewelled
And the neighbour's hung from the chestnut tree
(Leafblower) Blowing under privet hedge and over flower bed
(Leafblower) I want to grab a garden spade and whack him round the head
(Leafblower) Blowing on the patio and blowing on the grass
(Leafblower) I'd like to take that blower thing and shove it up his arse
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8. |
Fine Horseman
03:18
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Sleeping in my bed
Dreams run through my head
I dreamed you were
Playing with my hair
Fine fine sparrow
Fine fine horseman
Rain falls, wind roars
All the folks are indoors
We came through a ford
Riding over the moors
Your dreams among my dreams
Are blue seas among sunbeams
Shades of yellow, shades of green
These are your dreams among my dreams
Morning to you, farming man
Here's to your heart, your family and land
I'll lay down a ring and a golden band
On a field for a ride around
Morning likewise, maiden and man
My family is dead, my heart is in the ground
I have no land
This is no time for a farming man
Sleeping in my bed
Strange thoughts are running through my head
I dreamed you were
Playing with my hair
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9. |
Geordie
05:05
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As I went over London Bridge
One misty morning early
I overheard a fair pretty maid
Lamenting for her Geordie
Come bridle me my milk white horse
Come bridle me my pony
That I may ride to London's court
To plead for the life of Geordie
And when she entered in the hall
There was lords and ladies plenty
Down on her bended knees she fell
To plead for the life of Geordie
Oh Geordie stole no cow nor calf
Nor sheep he never stole any
But he stole sixteen of the king's wild deer
And sold them in Bohenny
The judge looked over his left shoulder
And said I'm sorry for thee
My fair pretty maid, you've come too late
For he's condemned already
Let Geordie hang in golden chains
Such chains as never was any
Because he came of the royal blood
And courted a virtuous lady
I wish I was in yonder grove
Where times I have been many
With my broad sword and pistol too
I'd fight for the life of Geordie
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10. |
Julia Dream
03:20
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11. |
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My young love said to me "my mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind"
And she laid her hand on me and this she did say
Oh it will not be long, love, till our wedding day
Then she went away from me and she moved through the fair
And fondly I watched her move here and move there
And then she went onward, just one star awake
Like the swan in the evening moves over the lake
Last night she came to me, my dead love came in
So softly she came, her feet made no din
And she laid her hand on me and this she did say
"Oh it will not be long, love, till our wedding day"
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Rebsie Fairholm Cheltenham, UK
Haunting psych-folk inspired by the English landscape and the spirits of the ancestors. I play 12-string guitar, harp, piano, cornamuse, whistle and whatever else comes to hand. Now working full time with Marvin B Naylor.
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