Robertson’s Reel/Colgrave Sound/Hurlock’s Reel

Reacclimate

Take, Take, Take

O Great Mother

There is no love of life without despair of life -- Albert Camus

inside my head a strange conviction
I am separated from everything I used to know
is there a name to put to this condition that leaves me so hollow

waiting for a break in the weather
waiting for a sea change in the back of your mind
stranger things have happened 
but you're wasting precious time

or was I just meant to be a broken thing
was it fiction to believe it would be otherwise
in the final reckoning

you woke last night to the sound of her voice
calling your name once again
she said you still have a choice 
but your chances are getting slim

inside you're bleeding
because you know it's never going to be the same again
and I know that every memory  
is like jagged glass in your hand

were you just meant to be a broken thing
was it fiction to believe it would be otherwise
in the final reckoning

you feel the weight of a thousand miles
every step that remains should be easy now

but the road goes on

there's a rain that flows away
every doubt and darkness of mind
and it comes to remind you
that every child will find the light

let us never take for granted
all the blessings of the rising day
brother if you and I are the last ones standing
we'll raise a glass to the ones we knew on the way

Broken Things

Spotify Link

Done on my 1945 Martin 0-18.  
For my wife, who loves angels.

I'll Fly Away

The Green Hills Of Earth

A tune I wrote for a dear friend, Julianne, who taught grade school band and now plays drums in a couple of bands.

Song For Julianne

First time recording with autoharp, gift from Marc. This tune is dedicated to him, we met in Israel long time ago, still friends.

Tune For Marc

From the album ”Rain.” 
Cover art by Gray Lee.

Lyrics:

Rain

Rain is right
Right as rain
Rain is right
Right as rain

Last night you went sleepwalking in the storm
I heard your muddy feet coming in the doorway
Open eyes but blind you were carrying water
And you woke me up with kisses and you went on your way
You left me here with nothing, nothing to say 
But thank you for giving me a midnight taste of

Rain is right
Right as rain
Rain is right
Right as rain

I feel like I've been sleeping through my days
You loom larger now that you've gone away
I can hear you whispering hurricanes
And you wake me up with kisses then you go on your way
You leave me here with nothing, nothing to say
But thank you for filling up the ice cube tray with

Rain is right
Right as rain
Rain is right
Right as rain

Rain

A tune written on a strumstick after watching a documentary on condors. 

Instruments:
McNally strumstick, Killarney whistle, shruti box, organ, tingsha bells

Condor

In 1853, a ship load of Scottish coal miners bound for a new life in Canada put in to Valdivia, in what was known to them as Araucanía (Now in Chile’s Región de los Rios). After a shocking voyage, they refused to continue with their increasingly unhinged captain, and were swiftly offered work in Chile's coal mines, including the infamous Chiflón del Diablo (Devil's Blast) Colliery, which stretched out beneath the Pacific, relying on sea breezes for ventilation. The Scots permanently settled in Chile, accidentally founding one of its largest British expatriate communities.

The Colinda left the Clyde in 1853,
She was bound for Vancouver, for the mines sailed we,
From Crosshouse and Kilmarnock, from the coal mines to the sea,
We were following our New World dream.

And it's on the shores of Araucania, 
When the ice-capped isles we'd passed,
Said "We won't go no further with this captain, no."
Now we're working in the Devil's Blast.

Our Captain had a temper, and a pistol-o,
And he duelled with the surgeon out at sea,
He accused that brave crew of plotting piracy,
And his passengers accused of mutiny.

After rounding the Horn, we were just half way there,
To our fortune in Vancouver Island's mines,
When the drinking and the madness took our captain hold,
We were growing fearful for our lives. 

And it's on the shores of Araucania, 
When the ice-capped isles we'd passed,
Said "We won't go no further with this captain, no."
Now we're working in the Devil's Blast.

And when we had reached the rainy Chilean shore,
At Corral, by Valdivia put in, 
We said 'We'll sail no more!" and we all swam ashore,
Leaving the only man aboard the Captain. 

In Valdivia town we met young Thomas Bland,
And he listened to the tale we had to tell,
He said to passengers and crew, "Well, if you all know how to hew, 
Then there's work for you in Coronel."

And it's on the shores of Araucania, 
When the ice-capped isles we'd passed,
Said "We won't go no further with this captain, no."
Now we're working in the Devil's Blast.

For two-hundred miles or more, We walked the long Arauco shore,
Where the shaking of the ground put fear in men,
Who'd set charges underground, but were now startled by the sound
When Mother Earth got her revenge upon them.

No we'd never learned the tongue of Indian or Chilean,
But we could all use a pick when we were three,
So when Lota mine we reached, that vengeful pit upon the beach,
We went down to work the seams beneath the sea.

And it's on the shores of Araucania, 
When the ice-capped isles we'd passed,
Said "We won't go no further with this captain, no."
Now we're working in the Devil's Blast.

So we're living in a country where the mountains reach the sky,
And we hew out the coal so fine and black,
But we all shed a tear for the land we once held dear,
For we know that we are never going back.

To the land of the Condor we have all sworn for good,
Thanks to a Captain who's the worst upon the sea,
And though they may be waiting on Vancouver Island's shore,
It's a place that we are never going to be. 

And it's on the shores of Araucania, 
When the ice-capped isles we'd passed,
Said "We won't go no further with this captain, no."
Now we're working in the Devil's Blast.

It is hot, it is breathless in this stinking pit, 
On the shores of the deep Pacific, vast,
Yet as the ocean winds keep us breathing deep within,
We're all grateful for the Devil's Blast.

The Devil’s Blast

Multi-instrumental folk. All songs and tunes are originals, with many lyrics inspired by history and folklore. Played on mandola, charango, mandolin, maulincho, whistles, melodeon, accordion, balalaika, glockenspiel, venezuelan cuatro, nykelharpa and streichzither amongst others. Recorded on a Boss BR-1200 12 track.

The Devil’s Blast

Drury Hill Ghosts

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