1. |
My Brother's A Farmer
03:12
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My brother’s a farmer, he’s strong and he’s kind
But he won’t find a love because he don’t have the time
He fixes and tends and he toils and he grows
From May till September he’ll not courting go.
My brothers a farmer he’s weathered and worn
He’s tall as a tree, and golden as corn
Look for him if you will when the day’s short and cold
From May till September he’ll not courting go.
My brothers a farmer, his clothes they are torn
He’s scratched and he’s calloused, he’s muscle and brawn
He sings with his eyes closed, so his heart he’ll not show
From May till September he’ll not courting go.
My brothers a farmer, he’s strong and he’s kind
If he were a rich man he’d give you his time
He’d give you his time like a gift with a bow
And if you gave him yours I’m sure he’d not courting go.
The winter’s unkind
But the summer’s never mine
From May till September he’ll not courting go
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2. |
The Lady of Ballantyne
05:51
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I was only a child when I came here by sea
With my lady in waiting, my Mother and me
With no heavy heart I wasn’t being brave
Just doing my best for my family name
Just doing my best for my family name
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
You’ll be Lady of the house of Ballantyne
Daddy gave me a coat of the thickest fur
And a hat and gloves of the same
He said you’ll never know cold till you reach your new home
And the winter comes round again
And the winter comes round again
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
You’ll be Lady of the house of Ballantyne
It was mid September when I stepped off the boat
With my Mother in a mood so sore
I was promised to a man nearly twice my age
And I never even known him before
No I never even known him before
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
You’ll be Lady of the house of Ballantyne
Well the sun shone low and the sea was soft
The gulls were the kings of the sky
I held my hand up just to shade my brow
And a face in the crowd caught my eye
Oh a face in the crowd caught my eye
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
You’ll be Lady of the house of Ballantyne
Well his face was weathered and his blue eyes shone
His coat was mended and worn
His hands held the work of a hundred men
But his manner said he was someone
Oh his manner said he was someone
Who leaves you waiting at the harbour here ?
Tell me who’s been wasting your time ?
Take my hand and I’ll lead you safe
To the good house of Ballantyne
To the good house of Ballantyne
Well my Mother was tired, my Mother was worn
My Mother slapped his hand away
She said we’re waiting on the good man himself to come down
You’d do well to get yourself away
You’d do well to get yourself away
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
You’ll be Lady of the house of Ballantyne
I was only a child when I came here by sea
With my lady in waiting, my Mother and me
But I reached out and took that man’s hand in mine
And I fell for the Lord of Ballantyne
I fell for the Lord of Ballantyne
Hands as hard as the rock where my home land stands
Heart like a summer storm
Nineteen winters each worse than the last
But it wasn’t my coat kept me warm
No it wasn’t my coat kept me warm
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
And remember the Lord of Ballantyne
Sip your whisky and drink your wine
And remember the house of Ballantyne
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3. |
Crocuses
02:55
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When the winter ice recedes
And through the grass is showing
Straight and sharp as cutting teeth
The crocuses are growing
Icy winds and concrete set
God knows what you have done
In darkness you were blinded yet
You turned towards the sun
But she had held you for a time
And willed you to the air
That you might make a blanket sweet
To show us she was there
When the winter ice recedes
And through the grass is showing
Straight and sharp as cutting teeth
The crocuses are growing
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4. |
The Gunsmith's Daughters
03:13
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There was a gunsmith, and the best if you ask
Lock stock and barrel and powder in flask
Three daughters he had and not one was a lad
Lock stock and barrel and powder in flask
This gunsmith loved shooting and it was his delight
Lock stock and barrel and finely-tuned sights
To shoot in the daytime and shoot in the night
Lock stock and barrel and finely-tuned sights
He’d shoot at the crows on his own chimney pots
Lock stock and barrel and tiny lead dots
He’d shoot at the jackdaws on any rooftop
Lock stock and barrel and tiny lead dots
His daughters they never could hurt hide nor hair
Lock stock and barrel and smoke in the air
They told to their father but he didn’t care
Lock stock and barrel and smoke in the air
Lock stock and gun half cocked
His heart was losing pace
From his hospital bed he would watch the birds
And he longed to fly away
They had lives they had loves they had mouths to feed
And wild hearts beating time in their breasts
When at last he came home and he stepped outside
With his heart wrapped up in a nest
The crows hack and caw and the stoggeys parade
Lock stock and barrel and pigeons of clay
The magpies they rattle and the jackdaws they play
Lock stock and barrel and pigeons of clay
There was a gunsmith and the best if you ask
Lock stock and barrel and bread on the grass
Three daughters he had and they all made him glad
Lock stock and barrel and bread on the grass
Lock stock and barrel and bread on the grass
Lock stock and barrel and bread on the grass.
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5. |
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No tears for my fisherman when he goes to sea
For she is his first love and I am but three
Two is his boat for she carries him safe
And I am his wife and I wait
This earth is my comfort so solid and strong
But she scratches and claws at it all winter long
Not content with my husband she’s after my land
And she’ll not rest until I am sand
No tears for my fisherman when he goes to sea
For she is his first love and I am but three
Two is his boat for she carries him safe
And I am his wife and I wait
This house isn’t much but its centuries old
The walls were built thick for to keep out the cold
But she spits and she licks at the windows and doors
And washes my paint work raw
No tears for my fisherman when he goes to sea
For she is his first love and I am but three
Two is his boat for she carries him safe
And I am his wife and I wait
And when he comes home with his washing and swag
He sways in the kitchen and sways in the bath
He sways in my arms and sways on my breast
He is rocked by the tune of his mistress
No tears for my fisherman when he goes to sea
For she is his first love and I am but three
Two is his boat for she carries him safe
And I am his wife and I wait
I wait
I wait
I am his wife and I wait
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6. |
(LIVE) Last Look at Home
03:55
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Hazy, lazy sunrise, bring the heat back to my bones
I was waiting for you, waiting for you all on my own
The breeze has gone and the birds are singing like it is their last
They’re singing like it is their last look at home
And the blood red sun
Pours down over hills and towns
Sleep on safely, sleep on, take your rest
I will watch for you
Some day you will watch for me
Til then, sleep on safely, sleep on take your rest
I will rouse the dying embers, I will move them with a stick
The stick I found as it grew darker and your heart was beating quick
I told you then that you were safe and I would be your ears and eyes
That I would be your ears and eyes and that the sun would always rise
And the blood red sun
Pours down over hills and towns
Sleep on safely, sleep on, take your rest
I will watch for you
Some day you will watch for me
Til then, sleep on safely, sleep on take your rest
Stretch and yawn, breathe it in and breathe it out
Nothing is more certain than the sun
It will rise, it will rise, on any circumstance or task
And when it rises you must rise and carry on
Hazy, lazy sunrise, bring the heat back to my bones
I was waiting for you, waiting for you all on my own
The breeze has gone and the birds are singing like this is their last
They’re singing like this is their last look at home
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7. |
City in My Lungs
04:56
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I cried from Newcastle to Northallerton
Choked down a sandwich in York
He was embarrassed by my display of emotion
I needed comfort he needed not to talk
And my eyes were red raw from the crying
The smoky station was too much to bare
And with twenty six miles yet to get to my new home
I could have laid down on the tracks right then and there
Let me come home Mum and I promise I won’t argue
I swear to god I’ll even be a Nun
The air is clean and sweet here in the country
But what I wouldn’t give for a great big drag of the city in my lungs
His family have a big house by the village green
And they are kind in their own funny way
They had to buy me a note book and pencil
Cause they couldn’t understand a word I say
And as for him I’ve never seen him laugh once
He sulks all day in the shed with his Dad
And in six long weeks I’ve only ever known him bath once
He never comes to sleep at night and I’m glad
Let me come home Mum and I promise I won’t argue
I swear to god I’ll even be a Nun
The air is clean and sweet here in the country
But what I wouldn’t give for a great big drag of the city in my lungs
I miss the clamour of the loaders on the slip way
The boots of the dockers on the street
The sailors and the swannys
The ships as big as skies
But they all carried on without me
And now the spring is here and the window’s open wide
A tiny bird just flew in then out again
And the orchard is painted pink and white now
And I can smell it in the tiny drops of rain
Yesterday he told me I could go back
But he might just miss me all the same
He’s as cold as a fish and as much fun as a brick
But I couldn’t stand to cause him any pain
And If I came home Mum you know I’d only argue
And I’ve never had much call to be a Nun
The air is clean and sweet here in the country
But the city life was never much of a place for raising babies on
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8. |
William
03:04
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I never shuddered as the cold Atlantic took you in
I never cried out for no reason in the shops
The sound of metal tearing metal never haunted my dreams
No unseen hand reached out and tampered with the clock
Just a mother knows
I always carried dread with me whenever you were sent
I held it like a charm ‘til you came back
Until the day the letter came and the room span round and round
And the ringing in my ears made the world turn black
But a mother knows
Like the tide that turns the sea
You’ll come back to me
Oh William, my William, you are safe but not sound
The days go by so slowly, but the seasons turn around
Each night I try to close my eyes and try to see whatever you see
Like the promenade Gypsies with no messages for me
But a mother knows
Like the tide that turns the sea
You’ll come back to me
Build him a circle no man can break
No hand be raised to William
Build him a circle no man can break
No hand be raised to William
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9. |
Wheeldale Crossing
03:55
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Dark water rising turning brown, brown, brown
The rain fell so hard I thought the fish might drown
Jack went out at midnight and he never came back
Jenny found him in the morning like a sheep on his back
He was caught at the crossing, stuck like a branch
He was turning like a monkey on the wheel of chance
The water kept on rising, Jack began to roll
He was gone, gone, gone to the valley below
Gone, gone, gone to the valley below
Jenny tried her hardest not to grieve or mourn
Tears were a luxury to which she wasn’t born
The law bid her tell them what she know, know, know
And why they found her burning all Jack’s Sunday clothes
A body washed away and never planted in the earth
Will come back for his Sunday best and treasures for their worth
Burn all his clothes give them to the wind to take
But leave his boots at the Churchyard gate
Leave his boots at the Churchyard gate
The law came for Jenny in the dead of night
Something in his story didn’t turn out right
Conrad Peach was shouting “she’s a Witch, she’s a Witch”
And poor Jack Crooks is likely in a ditch, ditch, ditch
Jenny cried for justice and cursed poor old Jack
If she’d have gone the same way he’d have never a’took the flack
Hang me as a Witch but let the water take my soul
I’ll go down, down, down in the valley below
I’ll be down, down, down in the valley below
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10. |
Row Like Grace
03:14
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When all of the chords have been done
And the songs have been sung before
You will still be doing it for me
When all of the lines have been lined
And the rhymes have been rhymed up
There will still be words for you and me
And maybe, when we’re getting old
And if we’re care free, and we don’t feel the cold
And all the birds are flying free
We could buy a cottage by the sea
Or a campervan
When all my illustrious fails
Have been stretched in to tales too tall
I will still be telling them to you
When life starts to pull on your switch
And the boat starts to pitch and roll
I would row like Grace to get to you
And maybe when we are alone
And feeling empty, ‘cause all the birds have flown
And the rest is down to you and me
We could buy a racing green MG
Or a campervan
When all of the chords have been done
And the songs have been sung before
You will still be doing it for me
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11. |
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I took my bike up to Scarborough town
And I rode with the pack up to Oliver’s Mount
I stuck a 7 on my lid and on my black machine
‘Cause every kid with a bike wished he was Barry Sheene
Sheene never bowed to authority
Sheene gave the V’s to the powers that be
Sheene got the ladies of my wildest dreams
And I wish that I was Barry Sheene
How I wished that I was Barry Sheene
We’ll I’ve never seen any man go so fast
He’d stick his chin to the tank for the finish line pass
He took a victory smoke and shook a victory fist
Took a victory blonde girl in his arms to kiss
Sheene never bowed to authority
Sheene gave the V’s to the powers that be
Sheene got the ladies of my wildest dreams
And I wish that I was Barry Sheene
How I wished that I was Barry Sheene
Well I still take my bike up to Scarborough town
And I ride with the old boys up to Oliver’s Mount
And we’ll summon the old Gods of two strokes and smoke
And watch the new kids racing on the shoulders of ghosts
Singing “Are you going to Scarborough fair?
Barry Sheene’s going to beat you there
On your Mum’s hairdryer and a Babycham
He’ll be waiting with your girlfriend at the ice cream stand”
Ride on
Ride on!
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Becky Mills Pickering, UK
"A storyteller of immense talent and imagination" FATEA
"A collection of warm humanity &
emotional truth, written and sung by an exceptional storyteller"”
RnR ****
"Skillfully weaving together personal & historic themes, Becky has created a stylish modern take on the art & process of folk storytelling” fRoots
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