1. |
Workhouse Blues
08:20
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Workhouse Blues
I.
God is good
His love is pure
But for that love
We must endure,.
We must conform
We must obey
And beg forgiveness
Day by day.
We must atone
We must repent
The years in poverty
We’ve spent.
Though fate’s a savage
Pitching sea
We still must shape
Our destiny.
But the ship of life
We’ve failed to steer
And that is why
We’ve washed up here.
The Workhouse walls
Are cruel and grey
And in its shadowed halls
We pray.
Its yard we pound
With ragged feet
Come wind, come rain
Come winter’s sleet.
And then with battered
Broken hands
We unpick oakum
Strand by strand.
From work, they say
Comes liberty
But we can never now
Be free.
For, however short
Our lives may be
We’ll carry this shame
For eternity.
But do not shed
A tear for us
We did not try
We lost God’s trust.
Our souls are not
Worth weeping for
We are
The Undeserving Poor.
II.
If God’s love
Were truly pure
He would not make us
To endure.
He would not
Punish us this way
He’d hear our voices
When we pray.
But ‘tis not God
Who judges thus
‘Tis not God
Despises us.
God did not make
The world of men
Nor does he rule
Or govern them.
‘Twas men
And only men alone
That drove us here
And stole our homes.
That broke us
In this wretched place
That shamed our names
With this disgrace.
Our sins
We’ll gladly suffer for
But it’s not our sin
That we are poor.
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2. |
Alma Rubens
05:05
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Alma Rubens
Dear, sweet, Morphia,
You’re a tiresome bitch.
I’ve had my fill of you, Dear.
For the longest time
You have been my crave
But now I’m leaving you.
All through these long years
We have been wed,
I was a loyal bride, Dear.
Yet the only thing
You could offer me
Was sickness, pain and hurt.
I gave my crown away,
I gave my throne.
I gave it all for you, Dear,
I gave you everything
But it was not enough,
Well, now I’ll give no more.
And when the moment comes,
I shall not cry,
I will not call your name, Dear.
For if I must leave,
Well then, leave I must,
But at least I’m rid of you.
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3. |
Butterfly
05:36
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Butterfly
Chorus:
Don’t care for me, don’t care for me,
For I am not gone from thee,
Don’t care for me, don’t care for me,
For I am not gone away.
I am on the breath of each new spring,
In amongst the scattered flints and chalks,
All down the sunken paths and lanes,
At every sheltered, waiting fork...
So look for me, for I’ll be by,
A red and black,
Butterfly.
-Chorus-
On the hot and heavy summer days,
I am there upon the forest floor,
All down the tumbled chines and cliffs,
And out along the ragged shore...
So look for me, for I’ll be by,
A red and black,
Butterfly.
-Chorus-
I am with the seeds on the autumn wind,
In the tangled bracken’s auburn fronds,
Upon the golden gathered sheaves,
When the shadows are all turning long...
So look for me, for I’ll be by,
A red and black,
Butterfly.
-Chorus-
On the thin-lit slopes of winter’s hills,
I am there upon the glinting frost,
Up above the empty furrowed fields,
When the days are dark and the year is lost...
So look for me, for I’ll be by,
A red and black,
Butterfly.
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4. |
Gentlemen, Play On
07:33
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Gentlemen, Play on
No cloud hangs over us,
No wind, either, blows.
Clear is thy sky this night,
So bright burn its stars.
Pure shines their fiery bright,
Gold and silver burning light,
Lord, will you raise us there,
As we pass below?
Darkness waits under us,
Still and deep and cold.
Calm is thy sea this night,
Patient, are its waves,
As they wash over us,
Will we then feel your love?
Lord, will you comfort us,
As we pass below?
Will courage be with us,
When that darkness nears?
Great is our need tonight,
Mortal are our fears
And when these waters close,
Please don’t let them take us slow!
Lord, let these hands play on,
As we pass below.
(Aside) Gentlemen, play on.
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5. |
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The Aching Heart of Picardy
They do not lie where you have seen
At every square and village green
The rolls of names and tributes paid
Where paper poppies, still, are laid
Beneath the sullen angels’ wings
On each
November’s
Mourning.
They lie here.
They do not lie and never did
Where all those last farewells were bid.
At every door and garden gate
We promised them that we would wait
But monuments now stand like notes
To say that we
Could wait
No more.
They lie here.
They do not lie among these streets
Where all those drums of war once beat
Where cheers were raised and hymns were sung
As they rolled past with rifles slung.
So proudly they all marched away,
Out of our lives
And
Disappeared.
They lie here.
They lie here and always will,
Where now the days have all turned still.
Beneath these ever rolling skies,
Where Lark song trills and swallows fly
And trees have grown to hide the scars
In sullen clumps and somber groves.
They lie here where they were slain,
Beneath the corn on this great plain
And in rows of Portland stone
That stand in line and glint like bone
And float like rafts in countless yards
Upon this slow and broad-backed land.
In the aching heart,
Of,
Picardy.
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Twenty-One Crows Brighton, UK
Twenty-One Crows are:
Dominic Plucknett, Rebecca Tann, Jon Griffin and Andy Thomas
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