A Song for Big Mizz
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

I tell thee, my doy, my lass, Big Mizz,
You're the one who makes my poor heart fizz,
I want you to know that you're the bizz
So I've written thee this psalm.

You're hard as nails and your heart seems cold
But, my doy, if I could be so bold
As to offer thee a ring of gold
I'd turn that cold heart warm.

Remove the wry smile show me one with teeth,
You've a hard exterior, I bet it's soft beneath.
Take my hand, entwine your fingers with mine,
Let your guard down, it'll be fine.

You say that you never want to get wed,
Get that daft idea out of your pretty head,
'Cause towards me down th' aisle I shall see thee led
By thee father with some bridesmaids behind.

You might say that your job must come first,
Might say of all wives that you'd be worst,
Might say that our marriage'd be nowt but cursed,
But I tell thee, doy, that I wouldn't mind.

Come stand by my side and I'll hold thee tight,
It might not be love at first sight,
But I'm determined, lass, to win tha affection,
Give tha life a new direction.

Your tight-lipped scowl won't scare me away,
For your hand I'll come back day after day,
For your heart each night on my pillow I'll pray
And sometime you'll have to give in.

I'll ask thee, my doy, at the end of each week,
Though folk'll ask if my own death I seek,
But they need to know I'm no'an bahn to be meek
In my quest to make thee scowl a grin.

It's best to cave now and take my invitation 
And t' two of us together'll live a life of elation,
Hold out your hand and accept my heart,
In your life let me play a big part.

A Song for Big Mizz

The Ballad of Thursday Night
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

Well it's a Thursday night
So th' only thing that's right
Is to go up t' road wi' t' lads to t' Blacksmith Arms.
When I walk in you're there
Wi' your luscious raven hair
But when I look closer I don't just see your charms.

There's a fella sat wi' you
No one else, it's just the two
I've seen him before a-walking t' road to Leeds.
I ignore the scene before me
Tell myself that you adore me
While the landlord sets to slate my whistle's needs.

Now his hand is on your arm,
I'm sure that can do no harm
'Cause you're waiting just to gently let him down.
But hang on a second, wait!
You go and reciprocate!
You've been taken in by t' bloody city clown!

The lads note my mind's elsewhere,
'Cause it's not at t' table there, 
So like mates do, they ask me "Where's your head?"
I say "The lass there wi' that fella
I like a lot but dare not tell her
But it seems to me she's into him instead."

The lads get me one more Black Sheep
While I keep my eyes on t' creep 
As his hands are on your innocence in his mind.
Ye gods! I nearly choke
When you laugh at his naff joke,
And I dream up words for him that are unkind.

The lads, they chat away
About their working day
While I watch him rub his foot against your shin.
When you get up to go to t' loo
I have to duck out of your view,
I don't want you to know that I'm aware of him.

From my position under t' table
I discover that I'm able
To see that you've put on a dress and done your hair.
And as you wander by,
Between t' chair legs I spy,
They're fancy shoes wi' labels that you wear.

Now I'm certain that you're courting
I'm tempted just to sort him
And drag him by his collar into t' snicket.
Then your beautiful grey eyes
Would be my valuable prize
As I knock him down like Yorkshire floors a wicket.

But the truth is that I'd lose,
So your designer shoes
Are unlikely to be put on just for me.
And as he helps you done your jacket
That must have cost a bloody packet
I head to t' bar for comfort in t' whisky.

And as you head out of the door
He slips his arm round you once more,
I sit back in t' warmth and must upon my life;
I'm drinking in my local 
Wi' some champion folk who'll
Be far more understanding than a wife.

The Ballad Of Thursday Night

In the Company of Thomas
Words and music by Enoch Sammer
2017

I don't know where I'm going,
I don't know left from right,
I don't know right from wrong,
Now t' path's gone from my sight.

I don't know where I'm going,
I don't know up from down,
I don't know fact from fiction,
I'm just going round and round.

But at least I'm not alone,
At least I'm not alone,
I've got Thomas
And Thomas is here with me.

At least I'm not alone,
At least I'm not alone,
I've got Thomas
And Thomas is here with me.

I'm walking in this forest,
Fog's sweeping all around,
I can't see t' path in front of me 
And I can't hear a sound.

Some folk are selling snake oil,
Some folk are selling lies,
Some folk have truth to offer
But which ones are t' good guys?

Some folk'll tell me one thing,
But it doesn't quite add up
And then I hear the other side
And it seems so screwed up.

But at least I'm not alone,
At least I'm not alone,
I've got Thomas
And Thomas is here with me.

At least I'm not alone,
At least I'm not alone,
I've got Thomas
And Thomas is here with me.

And Thomas wants some evidence,
Thomas wants some proof,
Thomas wants to see the facts
Before he decides the truth.
And me? 
I'm here with Thomas,
So I guess I need the same.
But who'll supply?

At least I'm not alone,
At least I'm not alone,
I've got Thomas
And Thomas is here with me.

Life in t'd Ridings

In the Company of Thomas

A Song of Descent
Words and music by Enoch Sammer
2017

I lower my eyes to the valley from on high
Where people stumble in mourning, others die,
The land's scorched by the sun and nothing grows
And nobody knows,..
And nobody knows...

The master lets his servants suffer pain,
The king gives all his subjects a free reign
To mock and scorn and kill and rob and rape
And nobody knows,..
And nobody knows...

Why the master seems to slumber while his servants live in fear,
Why the subjects cry in anguish but the king seems not to hear,
Why our birds are poached and peddled all for evil doers gain,
Why the sceptre of the wicked is allowed to still remain,
And nobody knows,..
And nobody knows...

So I'm going down.
I'm going down.
I've turned around.
I'm going down.

We sow our seeds with weeping yet don't reap,
The fruit for which we work we do not keep,
The servants rise up early, stay up late,
And nobody knows,..

Our mouths are filled with mourning, tongues speak grief,
Each one of us is torn by evil teeth,
The floodwaters engulf our sorry lives,
And nobody knows,..
And nobody knows...

Why we put hope in this king when he doesn't seem to act,
Why the poor remain poor while the fat cats put on fat,
Why the evil wear resplendent crowns while the servants suffer shame,
Why the subjects accept guilt while the wicked shun the blame.

We all remain entangled,
We wait and wait yet more,
They gain the victory over us,
We cry from the valley floor.
We cry our for the king's justice,
Are his ears turned elsewhere?

And nobody knows,..
And nobody knows...
And nobody knows,..

Then we see the master suffer,
The king himself in pain,
And nobody knows...

Life in t' Ridings

A Song of Descent

The Climb
Words and music by Enoch Sammer
2017

Pull on these old walking boots,
I'm going to climb back up that hill.
Cold sunlight falls through branches 
As I push through wet trees;
I'm ready now.
And I know that I've been like that Old Duke of York,
But I vow this will be the last time;
And I pray that you'll meet me up there at the top of the climb.

Heave air through these hot aching lungs,
Press hard on my thighs and glance up.
Stones tumble underfoot 
As I push ever on;
I'm sweating now.
And the wind and the rain won't deter me this day,
Though I say the same thing every time;
And I pray that you'll meet me up there at the top of the climb.

The hilltops around
And the trees far below,
The cairn high above
Built from pilgrimage stones,
The mist in the distance,
The air burns inside
But my soul?

Climb over the boulders once left
Abandoned as glaciers rolled by.
Pull up to the goal 
And the hope I'll find rest;
I pray I can.
Will you send me back down like that Old Duke of York?
Will you send me back down for all time?
Have I squandered my last chance of rest at the top of the climb?

The Climb

This is Huddersfield
Matthew Sheard

From t' drug fuelled corridors of Buxton House
On to t' brutalist library,
Along Queen Street to t' Kingsgate Shopping Centre,
This is home to me.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

T' De Lacys built their castle here
When t' Normans came and brought their fear,
They scorched the land,
But Huddersfield lived on.
This were a textile town,
Our worsted mills
Used wool from t' sheep up in the hills
To make the finest cloth in t' land
And help folk 'cross the world look grand.
Then t' Luddites came
And broke the frames
And fought th' industrializsation games.
A millowner they tried to shoot,
They were scared of becoming destitute.
This were Ramsen's Town,
He built it all
Till t' Corporation bought it all,
This were t' town that owned itsen,
No longer, that were way back when.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

Harold Wilson, Gordon Kaye 
(In 'Allo 'Allo he played René),
Patrick Stewart, Simon Armitage,
Who wrote about the Corduroy Kid,
Ibbotson and Sidebottom,
James Mason and Michael Jackson,
No, not the singer, he's not from here,
The journalist who wrote of beer,
Jodie Whittaker, aye Dr Who,
She's from Huddersfield too.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

Folk here are down to earth, like clay,
Humble, kind, they'll always say
What's on their mind, won't stay their hand,
You'll always know just where you stand.
I remember working in gallery,
It were showing summat contemporary,
I asked a fella what he thought,
He told the truth just as he ought,
He looked around and thought a bit,
Said "A load of bollocks, lad, in't it?"
Then he gave a nod, went on his way,
He were right, I have to say.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

There's poverty, some riches here,
There's vodka shots and lots of beer,
There's charity shops among t' vacant spaces,
T' council's screwing up the place
And t' government just doesn't care,
They just say that it's grim up there,
But although it is a bit run down,
It's still a proud and mighty town.
I hope one day I will come back,
'Cause something in my soul does lack,
I'll come home to t' place where I were raised,
To this old Victorian town one day,

To Huddersfield,
To where I'm from.

This is Huddersfield.

This is Huddersfield (Spoken Word)

This is Huddersfield
Matthew Sheard

From t' drug fuelled corridors of Buxton House
On to t' brutalist library,
Along Queen Street to t' Kingsgate Shopping Centre,
This is home to me.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

T' De Lacys built their castle here
When t' Normans came and brought their fear,
They scorched the land,
But Huddersfield lived on.
This were a textile town,
Our worsted mills
Used wool from t' sheep up in the hills
To make the finest cloth in t' land
And help folk 'cross the world look grand.
Then t' Luddites came
And broke the frames
And fought th' industrializsation games.
A millowner they tried to shoot,
They were scared of becoming destitute.
This were Ramsen's Town,
He built it all
Till t' Corporation bought it all,
This were t' town that owned itsen,
No longer, that were way back when.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

Harold Wilson, Gordon Kaye 
(In 'Allo 'Allo he played René),
Patrick Stewart, Simon Armitage,
Who wrote about the Corduroy Kid,
Ibbotson and Sidebottom,
James Mason and Michael Jackson,
No, not the singer, he's not from here,
The journalist who wrote of beer,
Jodie Whittaker, aye Dr Who,
She's from Huddersfield too.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

Folk here are down to earth, like clay,
Humble, kind, they'll always say
What's on their mind, won't stay their hand,
You'll always know just where you stand.
I remember working in gallery,
It were showing summat contemporary,
I asked a fella what he thought,
He told the truth just as he ought,
He looked around and thought a bit,
Said "A load of bollocks, lad, in't it?"
Then he gave a nod, went on his way,
He were right, I have to say.

This is Huddersfield,
This is where I'm from,
This is Huddersfield.

There's poverty, some riches here,
There's vodka shots and lots of beer,
There's charity shops among t' vacant spaces,
T' council's screwing up the place
And t' government just doesn't care,
They just say that it's grim up there,
But although it is a bit run down,
It's still a proud and mighty town.
I hope one day I will come back,
'Cause something in my soul does lack,
I'll come home to t' place where I were raised,
To this old Victorian town one day,

To Huddersfield,
To where I'm from.
That be Huddersfield.

This is Huddersfield.
This is where I'm from.
This is Huddersfield.

This is Huddersfield

Alnmouth Station
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

As I travel closer to you,
We should be looking forward to a love at last requited,
But I feel we're just as far apart
For you don't know, you'll probably never know,
The feelings in my heart.

I don't understand why you think yourself so poor,
I dare not dream upon your beauty unless you dwell at such a distance.
I long to see the natural splendour of your face
So I can picture in my memory 
Each perfect feature's place.

Your voice's sound is the early morning sun
As it streams between bare branches in the crisp harshness of winter.
The hopes of your heart are silver guarded in the earth
And like the soil I would protect them 
Till the next life gives you birth.

I cannot tell of the feelings that I hide
For you would run, and rightly so, and leave my dreams in sorry pieces.
And so I feel we're just as far apart
For you don't know and you will never know
The feelings in my heart.

Alnmouth Station

London
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

I don't know his name
But for t' last twenty minutes
I've had my head in another man's armpit.
I thought that this were t' Bakerloo
But it turns out that it's t' line that's blue,
I've been holding on so tight my hand's got cramp in it.

T' man behind me shouted when I had to wait
'Cause I couldn't find my Oyster card at t' ticket gate.
T' tube info man thought I had a brain cell short
'Cause I didn't know which line went to Earl's Court.

Who the chuff would want to live here?
They think they're so refined 
But can't pull a decent pint o' beer.
Give me moors and t' rolling hills
And some good old Yorkshire banter,
Here it's busy and big and t' folk are rude,
Get me out on here, I'm not in t' mood.

They charge six quid for a pint,
Four to go two miles
And four pound fifty for a pasty.
I daren't cross the road without t' green man 
For t' fear I'll be hit by a van
And t' city boys behind are getting nasty.

Twenty quid for which I had to work right hard
Were blown in three days topping up my Oyster card.
I think I'm suffering from bloody dehydration
'Cause I won't pay that price for water at the station.

Who the chuff would want to live here?
They think they're so refined 
But can't pull a decent pint o' beer.
Give me moors and t' rolling hills
And some good old Yorkshire banter,
Here it's busy and big and t' folk are rude,
Get me out on here, I'm not in t' mood.

They don't know what I'm saying
'Cause they've never been north o' Watford Gap.
They roll their eyes and speak right slow,
They think I am a bloody foreign chap.

Who the chuff would want to live here?
They think they're so refined 
But can't pull a decent pint o' beer.
Give me moors and t' rolling hills
And some good old Yorkshire banter,
Here it's busy and big and t' folk are rude,
Get me out on here, I'm not in t' mood.

Take me back to t' North!
Take me back to t' North!
Take me back to t' North, right now!

London

Christ is Coming
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

Christ is coming back to this place,
Christ is coming back to this place,
So we stand on holy ground,
We stand on holy ground.
Christ is coming back to this place,
Christ is coming back to this place,
So oh, take off your shoes,
Oh take off your shoes,
And worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness,
Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

Christ is coming back to this place,
Christ is coming back to this place,
So defend against all comers,
Defend against all comers.
He said put down your swords,
He said put down your swords,
So pick up bombs and bullets,
Pick up bombs and bullets,
And worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness,
Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

He fed 5000 people,
He fed 5000 people,
So besiege them in their cities,
Besiege them in their cities.
"Let the children come to me,
Let the children come to me,"
So oh, let them go
With tear gas in their throats,
And worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness,
Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

He stood up for the oppressed,
He stood up for the oppressed,
So stamp down on the weak,
Stamp down on the weak.
The Samaritan is our neighbour,
The Samaritan is our neighbour,
So shoot the Palestinian, 
Shoot the Palestinian,
And worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness,
Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

And move the boundary stone
And oppress the alien.

Christ is coming back to this place,
Christ is coming back to this place,
So we stand on holy ground,
We stand on holy ground.
Christ is coming back to this place,
Christ is coming back to this place,
So oh, take off your shoes,
Oh take off your shoes.
Praise the Lord, my soul, oh praise him.

Christ is Coming

Huddersfield Town
Words and music by Roger Davies
Adapted by Enoch Sammer


Hear the original (and much superior) here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4uLVLSmg_E

Visit Roger Davies' website: http://www.rogerdaviesmusic.com/

Huddersfield Town

Five Months of Waiting
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

Waiting for five months to see yours face,
Waiting for five months to hold your hand,
To quench this longing to meet your lips.
Waiting for five months to smell your skin,
Waiting for five months to feel your warmth,
When will I hold you in my arms?

Five months of waiting,
Five months of waiting
But I'll see you again,
But I'll see you again.

Waiting for six months to know the truth,
Waiting for six months to know if you
Feel the same way I do about you.
Waiting for six months to know if hope
Will turn to pain or result in joy,
Will I hold you in my arms?

Six months of waiting,
Six months of waiting
Bring some comfort to five,
Bring some comfort to five.

Waiting for nine years to kill regret,
Waiting for nine years to end lost hope,
Why did I let you just walk on by?
Waiting for nine years with nowt but dreams,
Waiting for nine years with tear-stained cheeks,
I know I'll never hold you in my arms.

Nine years of waiting,
Nine years of wiating
Make five months seem a sigh,
Make five months seem a sigh.

Five months of waiting,
Five months of waiting 
But I'll see you again.

Multiple Lives

Five Months of Waiting

Multiple Lives
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

I've got multiple lives,
I've had more adventures than you ever could dream
I've got, I've got multiple lives.
I've got multiple lives,
I've lived all the stories that have ever been told,
I've got, I've got multiple lives.

And in one life I'm a rock star,
And in one life I cure disease,
In one life I go to great parties filled with VIPs.
And in one life I drive a Ferrari,
And in one life I travel the world,
In one life I live in a mansion decked with diamonds and pearls,
I've got multiple lives.

I've got multiple lives, 
I've seen more wonders than the world has yet known,
I've got, I've got multiple lives.
I've got multiple lives
I've lived all the dreams that you ever could dream
I've got, I've got multiple lives.

And in one life you didn't leave me,
In one life you didn't die,
In one life I don't come home each night, sit down and cry.
And in one life you don't have cancer,
And in one life you're not on your own,
In one life I don't stay home each night thinking alone,
I've got multiple lives.

But in real life my day's uneventful,
In real life my friends have all gone,
In real life I don't make good choices, they're nearly all wrong.
And in real life I don't have much money,
In real life I'm not sure I cope,
In real life I just go on living with no prospect of hope,
I've got multiple lives.

When the Sun Came out at Midnight (or Sabra and Shatila)
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

When the Sun Came Out at Midnight (or Sabra and Shatila)

A Black Hole Underneath a Lamppost
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light," they said,
And when he looked around
He saw the spotlight on the ground
But when he looked in the mirror
He saw nothing at all.
All he saw was darkness,
A man who's cold and heartless,
A man who sucks the joy from the world
So he smiled and said:

"I'm a black hole underneath a lamppost,
I'm a dark cloud underneath the sun,
I'm just a shadow spoiling everybody's day,
I'm a black hole, I'm a black hole
Underneath a lamppost."

He saw the people around him lifting up their hands with joy,
He saw the people laughing,
He saw the people smiling,
But when the people saw him
Their smile soon seemed to fade.
The people tried to avoid him,
The people tried to escape him,
They thought he sucked the joy from the world
So he smiled and said:

"I'm a black hole underneath a lamppost,
I'm a dark cloud underneath the sun,
I'm just a shadow spoiling everybody's day,
I'm a black hole, I'm a black hole
Underneath a lamppost."

And he always wore a sun mask,
The truth to try and hide,
And he always kept a torch close
As artificial light,
But the singers said: "Where is his joy?."
And the dancers said: "What a strange boy."
And the pastor said he could not serve.
And the people asked: "How can he be saved?"

"I'm a black hole underneath a lamppost,
I'm a dark cloud underneath the sun,
I'm just a shadow spoiling everybody's day,
I'm a black hole, I'm a black hole
Underneath a lamppost."

(c) 2019

A Black Hole Underneath a Lamppost

Hot Friend
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

So tonight we're bahn to t' pub
And tha says tha's coming too
And I'm hoping that you'll bring your hot friend.
I know such words shouldn't come from me,
Should be happy with your company,
But what's the point in trying to pretend?

Of t' women in t' pub she'll be t' one that's t' most pretty,
If she were there I'd be charming and witty,
Her hair's a golden waterfall,
So I'm hoping you'll bring her an' all.

So I'll send you a message 
(Though I know I really shouldn't)
Asking you to bring your hot friend.
I don't think twice about it
('Cause if I did I'd doubt it),
I just summon up the nerve and press 'send'.

I get all excited when you say you'll ask her,
But oh, bloody hell, this could be a disaster,
I'm getting all nervous, don't think I can speak,
This could be t' worst thing that's happened all week.

So th' evening arrives
And I look through t' pub window
And I see you sitting there wi' th' hot friend.
I wonder what the hell I've done,
I wonder, should I turn and run
And say I'm poorly staying home on t' mend?

I look like a scruff and my breath smells rotten,
What t' chuff's her name?  I think I've forgotten!
Look at her face!  Have you seen those eyes?
My limited hopes could see their demise!

So I drag myself into the pub
And buy mesen a pint
And sit down opposite your hot friend.
I'm of a nervous disposition,
Can't say owt, should shift position,
But I mumble something she can't comprehend.

At th' end o' t' night I should walk her home,
Ask for her number to give her a phone
But I don't even give her a nod,
Just look at my feet and away I plod.

So I climb into my bed,
Trying not to think on t' failure,
And go to sleep to dream o' th' hot friend.
But instead I dream on Sonny and Cher
And not o' your friend with the golden hair,
I don't know why, my dreams I can't defend.

Hot Friend

The Ballad of Ollie's Mum
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

Ollie's mother wants her son to find a wife,
It's the cause to which she's dedicated her life.
She's dressed him up in sweater vests and silly bright shirts,
Her son's singleness is what is causing her hurt.

Ollie caused his mother pain by bringing girls home,
She tried to set him up with them but he stayed alone.
She scouted girls out at her church, made moves for her son,
But there were no takers so Ollie's mum remained glum.

Ollie's mother cries herself to sleep at night,
She's worried by her poor son's single plight.
Ollie's mother doesn't want him to be alone,
She wants him to find a girl and set up a home,
Set up a home.

From t' table Ollie's mother banned bottles, packs and biscuit tins,
Made him put tomato sauce in little china rammequins,
In the hope his etiquette would bag him a lass,
One with table manners,
One upper middle class.

Ollie's mother cries herself to sleep at night,
She's worried by her poor son's single plight.
Ollie's mother doesn't want him to be alone,
She wants him to find a girl and set up a home,
Set up a home.

One day Ollie met a nice girl,
His heart did pound, 
He found his head in a whirl.
He backed himself by phoning her in t' wee small hours,
Didn't listen to his mum,
Did not buy flowers.

Ollie took the nice girl out, their relationship bloomed,
He didn't tell his mother, who thought her son doomed.
Ollie had a grand old time, enjoyed his first kiss,
His mother cried and cried, so unaware of his bliss.

Ollie's mother cries herself to sleep at night,
She's worried by her poor son's perceived plight.
Ollie's mother doesn't want him to be alone,
She wants him to find a girl and set up a home,
Set up a home.

When Ollie's mother received her son's call,
She did not know what to do, 
Her son's love life was her all.
She climbed, depressed, into her bed,
Wrapped up in her bedding,
Until she realised she'd have to plan her son's wedding.

Ollie's mother doesn't go to sleep at night,
She's a wedding day to plan,
That's her great plight.
She doesn't want her son's input,
She'll plan it alone.
Now dear Ollie's found a girl he'll set up a home,
Set up a home.

The Ballad of Ollie's Mum

Emley Moor Mast
Words and music by Enoch Sammer

When she appears at the setting sun
I know that I will soon be home,
Her peak arising in the distance,
Far above the hills.

See her standing tall for miles around,
A homing signal without sound,
A finger pointing the road back
So you will know the way.

I know I'll soon be safe and warm,
Surrounded by the past;
The comfort that is felt on glimpsing
Emley Moor Mast.

See her rising above the mist,
Marking the place where you've been kissed
By the people that you've loved and lost
And the ones who are left behind.

And when her head's lost in the clouds
You remember how you too dreamed aloud
As you wandered fields and scrambled hills
With friends not seen in an age.

The reasons for which you've come back
You forget till she appears,
You remember when you drive that road
You've not been down in years.

When I first catch sight of her there
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home.
When I see her there standing tall,
I know I'm coming home,
I'm coming home,
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home.

Those six red lights that shine in the night
That let you know that home's in sight
Are a welcome that is needed
When you've been away too long.

And does she point to our real home,
Where a bloodied lamb rules from a throne
And we'll never again find ourselves alone
With our family all around?

I know that I'll be welcomed back
As a brother and a son.
I know the path I've strayed from 
And yet with help it's been run.

When I first catch sight of her there
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home.
When I see her there standing tall,
I know I'm coming home,
I'm coming home,
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home.

I know that they'll be at the door
With arms opened wide.
I know that they will look at me
With eyes full of pride.
The darkness that has followed me
Is banished by the light.
I know that I am on my way
When Emley Moor's in sight.

When I first catch sight of her there
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home.
When I see her there standing tall,
I know I'm coming home,
I'm coming home.

When I first catch sight of her there
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home.
When I see her there standing tall,
I know I'm coming home,
I'm coming home,
I know I'm coming home, 
I'm coming home,
I know I'm coming home,
I am coming home.

Emley Moor Mast

Yorkshire lad with a ukulele. 
Often sings out of tune.

Enoch Sammer

Popular tracks