1. |
Cookworthy Knapp
03:17
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Travelling down the A30, See the nearly home trees welcoming,
Gathered together at Cookworthy Knapp
Signpost nearly home.
Nearly home we recognise, standing over us silent sentinels,
Slender trunks irregular, signpost nearly home.
The road sweeps on we gently rise, drive down over the border and then on to
Cornwall’s ancient gateway, Lanson nearly home.
The morning sun warms at our backs, Wakes the birds through the trees a-kindling,
Feathered together at Cookworthy Knapp
Signpost nearly home.
Nearly home…
The noon day sun stands high above, cast below the trees a-shadowing,
Sheltered together at Cookworthy Knapp
Signpost nearly home.
Nearly home…
The evening sun consumes our eyes, evening cloaks the trees a-darkening,
Weathered together at Cookworthy Knapp
Signpost nearly home.
Nearly home…
Onwards draws the A30, eyes left nod to the trees saluting,
Ever together at Cookworthy Knapp
Signpost nearly home.
Nearly home…
Lanson nearly home x3
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2. |
Sea Woman (Live)
03:33
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I walk the strandline in the rain
The water droplets fill my eyes
I know not how to love both lives
The ocean calls me home again
The children’s baths and dishes clean
My fingers furrowed as tide-sculpt sand
I know not how to love on land
The sea my home of flashing green
These apron strings this mermaid’s purse
Their tendrils bind without reprieve
I know not how to take my leave
The limpet holds for better or worse
The rippled pool the watery cave
My soul echoes the depths therein
I know not how to gain my skin
To dive below the velvet wave
This kitchen sink this unquenched thirst
Yearn to escape the home and dry
I know not how to say goodbye
The rip tide pulls my heart will burst
The rip tide pulls my heart will burst
The rip tide pulls my heart will burst
I know not how to say goodbye
The rip tide pulls my heart will burst
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3. |
Gracey Briney
02:48
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There was a maid who lived in Redruth in her youth
‘Til long in the tooth
The neighbours thought her rather uncouth
And they called her Gracey Briney
Her hobnail boots and elegant dress cut a dash
With an air of panache
She wore a top hat and a moustache
And they called her Gracey Briney
She fought and she wrestled and drank with the boys
Holding her own in the hubbub and noise
Smoking a pipe with incredible poise
They called her Gracey Briney
A workhouse girl, young Gracey was sent to the mine
Before she was nine
She’d learned to keep the horses in line
Raising kibble from the mineshaft
A pregnancy, a change of perspective, the sound
Of a girl underground
Where women’s work had never been found
Raising kibble from the mineshaft
She fought…
She left the mine and picked up a horse and a cart
Delight in her heart
To breathe the air and make a new start
Taking cherries to the market
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4. |
The Sun Still Rises
04:03
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What feeling can be found
Connection can be bound
To hold-fast our contested ground
Grass bends before the breeze
There’s clear air between the trees
And the sun still rises, the sun still rises in the morning.
What hearts and hands remain
Familiar refrain
Repeat again, again, and again
Though dark, dense the cloud obscures
The gilt crown of dawn endures
And the sun still rises, the sun still rises in the morning.
We yearn for something true
Bad news is nothing new
And grief has stricken all we do
What consequence the lie
When starlings expand the sky
And the sun still rises, the sun still rises in the morning.
What depths we go to soothe
What lengths we go to prove
Another justified move
The tide takes one more lost cause
The stones rattle grave applause
And the sun still rises, the sun still rises in the morning.
These pages heavy turned
Another lesson learned
And words can’t span the bridges burned
Far beyond the page confines
The gaps we left between our lines
But the sun still rises, the sun still rises in the morning.
The sun still rises, the sun still rises in the morning.
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5. |
What Changes
02:19
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If everyone could have a job and every labourer thirty bob
And jam and cream for tea
If everyone could have roast duck and farmers never had bad luck
How happy we would be
What changes we would see
How happy we would be
If the rules were made by thee and me
What changes we would see
If doctors never charged for pills, and tailors never sent in bills
And everything was free
If bankers never hoarded wealth and loved their neighbours as themselves
How happy we would be
What changes…
If Lloyd George could grow his ships, from cherry stones and apple pips
And we were taxes free
If old aged pensions could be found by simply digging in the ground
How happy we would be
What changes…
If lovely woman had the vote, what blessing we would quickly soak
What changes we would see
The husband man would mind the kids, wash up the pots and saucepan lids
While wife became M.P.
What changes…
What changes we would see
How happy we would be
If the world was run by thee and me
What changes we would see
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Strandline Exeter, UK
Folk trio Strandline is a collaboration between songwriters Kat Blockley, Claude Lamon and Lizzie Pridmore, together creating a unique soundscape of rhythmic double bass and English's concertina interwoven with improvised violin and trumpet harmonies. the music is rooted in folk traditions of Devon and Cornwall, yet reveals tantalizing hints of jazz and world music . ... more
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