1. |
Turn of the Tide
05:09
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Girls
Where they walk along on the green:
Their white feet,
The lilt of a song and their teeth are seen
Like white stones,
Little white stones
In the pink of dawn!
Have you seen them at all
On the green grass?
On the sod?
And the dews of God
Hang as they hung
On the heather, the flowers and the grass
Where their feet have trod!
Silk-soft, milk-white,
The feet are moving,
The air of a song – a forgotten song
That seeks its words,
The lost white feathers
Of holy birds.
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2. |
The Bansho
03:49
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In the Midnight
A splash on the dusky water,
A cry on the winter air,
As from the pit abyssmal
Rises a soul's despair.
The human ghouls of midnight
Shiver beneath the snow,
The painted women in terror
Stand, listen, and – go.
Up in the deep of heaven,
Gloomy and ghostly grey,
The cry of the lost one falters –
Falters, and dies away.
Only a cry in the darkness
Only a swirl in the tide,
Only a sinful woman
Crossing the Great Divide!
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3. |
By and By
04:07
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I taught my daughter the ways of the world
The clink of needles as the yarn unfurled
Put others before her, 'twas always her way
In bed I am ailing, and here I'll stay
Chorus
When the Earth is asleep, and the trees they sigh
'Tis a dangerous hour, that will pass by and by
For many a lassie who cross the sea
Only to fall into dark drudgery
Well, she journeyed to a foreign land
To earn for the croft, and the Father's hand
On the fields of Scotland they harvest away
And back home in Ireland for them I do pray
Chorus
I'm here by the fire and waiting for her
Any day now through that fractured door
Away 's her brother, and father as well
Taken from me by the dark sea swell
Chorus
I taught my daughter the ways of the world
But the way of existence, she never was told
The fire that once brightly blazed in the grate
Is smouldering gently, the cold seals it's fate
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4. |
Onwards
03:44
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5. |
In the Lane
03:55
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6. |
Unfulfilled
03:49
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There is dew upon the meadows brightly glancing in the morn,
And a blush of softest crimson comes across the waving corn,
And the waters brightly gleaming journey onward to the sea,
But nought fulfils the promise that the Springtime made to me.
'T is the olden, olden story, with its hope and with its pain,
Loved awhile with deep devotion never to be loved again –
Oft again will gentle Springtime paint the flower and tint the tree,
But the soft-voiced Spring will never bring it's second hopes to me.
Oft will mem'ry's fairy musings light upon the past again,
Ere the spell of love was broken by the alchemy of pain –
We were young, and we were happy, trusting in the future – we –
But the present 's full of sorrow, and the sorrow falls on me.
There is dew upon the meadows brightly glancing in the morn,
And a crimson blush of promise rises on the waving corn,
And the earth with hope is pregnant; howsoever it may be,
It can ne'er fulfil the promise that the springtime made to me.
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7. |
Newcomer
05:21
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Love
Love will live while the pale stars glow, while the world shall last,
On the present hopes, and in hours of woe, on a dreamy past,
Love will live, while the flowers bloom, and the meadows wave;
Nor yet be quenched by the charnel tomb – the ghastly grave;
For o'er the tomb and the silver stars, to the gates above
The soul will seek in the great Afar the Endless Love.
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8. |
Abyss
04:36
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9. |
The Bootless Bairn
03:57
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Days of the whirling snowflakes, nights of the weeping wind,
That move to a gloomy future, that come from the dark behind,
Carry upon their bosoms the sorrows of hope defiled –
The wail of the bootless bairn, the cry of the hapless child.
Not for him is the Christmas and all the sweets it brings,
Nor does he share the New Year's hope of bright and beautiful things,
Ah, never for him is the festal board with nature's bounties piled,
The wan-eyed bootless bairn – the poor, uncared-for child.
Oh! why to we prate of our glory and lightning lettered fame,
When the winds of our city roadways are breathing our people's shame?
And ev'ry castle builded is a hundred homes despoiled –
Our fame leaves the bairn bootless, our glory the hapless child.
Then it is ours to labour and help with the passing suns,
To brighten with word and action the lot of the little ones,
For the sins of our age hang heavy on defiler and defiled,
They fall on the bootless bairn, and crush the hapless child.
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10. |
Atone
04:55
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The Calling Voice
The great world voice is calling, and the streams have lost their glory,
For their restless waters journey to the ever-moving sea,
And I am ever yearning as they seem to breathe a story
Of the better things to be, the better things to be.
The breeze is saying, “Hasten, we will cross the seas together,
You and I together to a fairer world than this,
Say, does the mountain keep you and the purple waving heather,
Or the little girl you kiss, the little girl you kiss?”
No more the valley charms me, and no more the torrents glisten,
My love is plain and homely, and my thoughts are far away,
The great world voice is calling, and with throbbing heart I listen,
And I cannot but obey, I cannot but obey.
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Gráinne Brady Glasgow, UK
Irish musician and composer based in Glasgow.
www.patreon.com/GrainneBrady
"...engaging from the outset" - Folk Radio UK
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