Hannah Englekamp walked right round Wales (including the coastal path) with a donkey. She wrote a book (and made a film) about the experience called 'Seaside Donkey' - that's them in the photograph.
People came along and walked with them sometimes, and this is a song I wrote about one such person after reading Hannah's account of what happened.
You can find out more about Hannah's journey, books, DVDs etc at http://seasidedonkey.co.uk

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The Lady who sang on the hill

The way was hard, the travel was tough
The miles were many, the ground was rough
How d’you keep going when you’re losing heart?
And every departure is a difficult start
 
A woman asked if she could walk with us
She had heard of our journey; she walked out of her house
Silver hair in a bun and a sweet kind gaze
Testing her new knee in the summer haze

CHORUS
Heaven looked down and the earth was still
For the lady who sang on the hill   

We climbed the steep rise, breathing heavy and talking
The donkey almost smiled and we were laughing
England to the left, Wales to the right
There on top of Reeves Hill now everything was right 

She asked if she could sing for me
Just her voice, unchained and free
I had to say yes, though it’s really not my style
Just the donkey and me, a song, her smile

CHORUS

She sang to a beat I could not hear
Her voice soared high in the heavy air
Her low notes rippled through the golden barley
In the summer heat, the evening early

The song she sang was the Galway Shawl
Her way, she said of bidding farewell
I hadn’t had magic for quite a while
But she sang some for me from her melodious soul

CHORUS

Singing is my life was the last thing she said
She turned to go as the sky was turning red
I watched her walk back down in the evening light
carolling her heart till she was out of sight

CHORUS

Then we carried on, the donkey and me
not much had changed, but my heart now, too, sang free

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(The 'lady' was actually June Tabor one of the UK's most amazing traditional folk singers!)

The Lady Who Sang On The Hill

What this country (UK) has become :-(  Bigotry and lies have perverted a dream of something better. And then, on June 16, a racist hater shot and stabbed Jo Cox, a wonderful 41-year-old politician who was about as good as it gets. And the people who have told the lies (like Farage standing, grinning for the cameras, in front of a poster of desperate immigrants) cannot escape the blame for the climate they have created. That's what my song is about.
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The dove

I remember I was sixteen when the news came down the wire
And all us young lads sat and stared and felt the heat of fire
Some madman down in Dallas, a town of myth and Texan lore
Used a gun and petty hatred for his small sad lonely war

Or when I lived in Mexico in the ease of early days
and the TV told us Chapman, a man bug-eyed and crazed
Had shot and killed the best of us (even if he was bizarre
his passion, music, life and joy had brought us all that far)

CHORUS
You can say you’re being reasonable, it’s only what you know
But when you ramp up fear of otherness you reap just what you sow
You can stand before the cameras, smile and gurn at what you’ve done
But when you stoke up lies and hatred mad men will get their guns.

Or that evening in Old Compton Street when a small sad lonely fool
Took a little bomb of nails and trash. He thought he was so cool
and a few years down the track, and worse, another had a go
at people who were ‘other’ in the hate of Orlando

And the people there lay dead and hurt but the hate became a dove
Which saw just what he did and blinked and turned it into love.

A name that lives in ugliness: Timothy Macveigh
And they said it’s someone else’s fault, not his, politicos, just  they
Cause the government is bad, you see, he heard the cynic hate
And he was thick so he believed it down in Oklohoma state

CHORUS

I was sitting in my hotel room in the Catalunya dusk
And suddenly I’m crying cause the news this time’s too much
On the one hand is a leader who uses refugees as meat
And the other is a perfect world lying dying in the street
She talked of us together and how we live as one
But the bigotry of racists had fired a madman with a gun.

And good people heard the dreadful news and their sorrow was a dove
Which saw just what we’d held and lost and turned it into love.

CHORUS

I reject your vulture politics. I prefer the dove
For we’re all in this together; then what remains of us is love


The Dove

In 1961 Fidel Castro asked the youth of Cuba to banish illiteracy on the island and they went in their thousands (as volunteers) to do just that. An extraordinary few months, an extraordinary educational marvel.
Not everyone was pleased and some of the young volunteers were in danger.
The song is about one of those, Manuel Ascunze Domenech (top photo). He went to teach Pedro Lantigua (bottom photo) and this is what happened to him.

I am the teacher (Yo soy el maestro)

Way back then in those far-off days
When the island broke free from the dictator’s ways
They tried to build a land that was free and fair
Cuba, O Cuba

And it wasn’t perfect, they got some things wrong
They were doing their best as they went along
Building schools and hospitals all day long
Cuba, O Cuba

CHORUS
I am the teacher. That’s what he said

Fidel called the youth to do what was right
Lead the people out of darkness and into the light
Teach them to read, teach them to write
Cuba, O Cuba

And they went in their thousands to answer the call
To the heart of the island to give their all
Boys and young girls walking proud and tall
Cuba, O Cuba

Manuel found himself in Pedro’s home
Nervous, but committed and all on his own
And he taught by the light of his farol
Cuba O Cuba

CHORUS

But then one night, the bandits came
To stop the revolution, to kill and maim
And first they shot Pedro then they asked the boy’s name
Cuba, O Cuba

Pedro’s shocked wife tried to save Manuel
Tried to find a way home from this sudden hell
She said ‘He is my son; can’t you tell?’
Cuba, O Cuba

He wanted to say yes. He wanted to cry.
He knew the danger he was in and he really tried.
But he was proud of what he’d done and he couldn’t lie
Cuba, O Cuba

CHORUS

The men raised their guns, they were full of hate.
By telling the truth he had sealed his fate.
They killed Manuel

But he lives on in a nation’s heart
In the story of those times he played his part
For education is a gift, it’s a one true start.
Cuba, O Cuba

He was the teacher.
He said I am the teacher


I Am The Teacher (Yo soy el maestro)

Sovay


Sovay Sovay all on a day
She dressed herself in man's array
With a brace of pistols all at her side
To meet her true love, to meet her true love, away she ride.

As she was galloping on the plain
She met her sweetheart and bade him stand:
“Stand and deliver, young man,” she said,
“If and you do not, if and you do not, I'll shoot you dead.”

He delivered up his golden store
And still she craved for one thing more:
“That diamond ring that I see you wear,
Oh hand it over, oh hand it over, and your life I'll spare.”

“From me diamond ring I wouldn't/will not part,
For it's a token from me sweetheart.
Shoot and be damned, you rogue,” said he,
“And you'll be hanged, and you'll be hanged for murdering me.”
She being soft-hearted much like a dove
She turned her horse and she rode away from her true love.

Next morning in the garden green
Young Sovay and her love were seen; 
He spied his watch hanging by her clothes
Which made him blush, lads, which made him blush like any rose.

“Why do you blush you foolish/silly old thing,
I thought to have that diamond ring.
Twas I who robbed you all on the plain
And here's your gold, love, and here's your gold and your watch and chain.”

“I only did it for to know
Whether you were a man/if you would be a true lover or no;
If you had given me that ring,”she said,
“I'd have pulled the trigger, I'd pulled the trigger and shot you dead.”

Sovay Sovay

Originally (probably!) a Victorian ballad aboubt an outlaw seducing a young woman, this song gained its 'foxy' associations when collected sometime around 1904 by Herbert Hughes. The great folk singer/folklorist A.Al Lloyd added the teeth!

Photo by Penny Cadigan

Reynardine

In September 2015 Jeremy Corbyn didn't sing the national anthem at a ceremony to remember World War II airmen etc. That seemed an entirely consistent act to me. So I decided to write an alternative (well, sort of!!!)

(I sing main and backing vocals an play guitar, keyboards, electric bass, Cajon and tambourine)

Jeremy’s anthem

He stood to honour heroes with his head bowed down
But he wouldn’t sing the words of praise to an unelected crown
As if a national song should be addressed to only one
Instead of wishing joy and hope to every freeman’s son

And daughter. So I wondered if a national tune without heredity
 Could celebrate the land we are and what we wish to be.

God save our country, this little patch of land
An anchor in the stormy seas built on rock and earth and sand
Protect us from the greedy lies of money, power and might
And help us learn to read the truth behind the red-top lying hype

God save the farmers who bring us food to eat 
and labour through the fire and ice for our cereals and meat

God save the music makers –though it’s not my place to say
That without us everyone is doomed to a cold and bitter day 

God save architects who dream up every house and kirk
And God save the engineers who make their ideas work

God save the good police who keep us safe and strong
And punish all the other kind who make it go all wrong

God save the scientists who help us see what’s what
Through endless toil and argument as they untie fractal knots

God save the teachers – though I shouldn’t really claim
How bloody wonderful we are when we light that knowledge flame

God save the other ones who make this country tick
And help us get from place to place and who cure us when we’re sick.

God save our leaders, those we choose with our free will
Not because of who their fathers were in their dark satanic mills. 

God save the little boys, the yellow, pink or brown
Protect them from the prejudice that tried to tear their fathers down
God save the little girls and all they will achieve
And help them find the equal dreams their mothers fought to weave

 
God save these islands with their noisy messy throng
And help us know we’re in this world and we have to get along
God save the people who cast their eyes across the sea
To help the poor and homeless and the ones who promote peace
God save our freedoms which we cherish and enjoy
And were won with blood and sacrifice long before we were girls and boys

And God help each one of us as we do our best to live
And make us love the ‘other’ so we don’t just take, we give
And God help my country, just a bunch of fractious tribes
On these little mounds of rock. Give us courage to survive.

I know I’ve left out many. I’ve written deeply dreadful rhymes
And I’ve probably made a mess of things in our deeply troubled times
But this is the song I’d send to him
If he’d only give the nod
There’s just one little problem. I don’t believe in God

Jeremy's Anthem

A small 4-verse requiem I have written for all the people who have died at the hands of arrogant young people who murder innocents for their beliefs - whether in Afghanistan, Pakistan, England, France, Germany, Syria or anywhere else. The lyrics are below:

The Flowers in the marketplace

I hear you’ve gone away, they say you’re never coming back
That you were taken in some senseless cruel attack
And now we’ll never hear you knocking at the door
A light’s gone out
An empty space
Where once we hoped for more
But you’re not gone
You’re with us still
While memory lasts
And the dawn comes breaking with  the morning

The flowers in the marketplace, where earlier the throng
Of people crowded round the stalls in laughter, talk and song,
lie crushed and beaten on the ground in the silence, then the screams
the running feet
the lifeless forms
the death of so many dreams
and someone did this for a cause
they thought would bring them joy
but the dawn comes breaking with the morning

And maybe you were Iranian, maybe you were a Turk
Or a teenage girl in Manchester, or in London after work
You might have been a Syrian on a crowded evening bus
But what I know
It’s obvious
Is that you were one of us
It doesn’t matter where you’re from
The pain is still the same
And the dawn comes breaking with the morning.

The wasted lives in Germany, in Paris, Spain, Iraq
In Afghanistan, in Brussels or in some other hate attack
Are lives we could have cherished, think what they might have been
And me? I’ll sing a song
Of memory
And hold on to the dream
That underneath our foolish lives
The world is good and true
And that the dawn will come breaking with the morning
That the dawn will come breaking in the morning.

(The picture is from  THE CANADIAN PRESS/Justin Tang)

The Flowers In The Marketplace

A love song to Mexico which I first entered many many years ago when i was young! What a beautiful country, despite the hell that exists on the other side of the glass - and despite the shocking crimes in Chinameca, Tlatelolco, Ayotzinapa etc. Still it's a long and continuing love affair for me :-)

On this track I play and Auden Chester guitar, an Auden Emily Rose, a Fender jazz master bass, a Sure copy of a Fender Stratocaster (multitracked), a cajon, foostomp and tambourine.

Here are the words:

THE EAGLE AND THE CACTUS

I crossed the border into Mexico
With hair like Jesus Christ (hey it was years ago)
I watched Nogales fading in the rearview glass 
Headed south for adventure and whatever might come to pass
And the skies were clear and blue, there was magic everywhere
From the mountains and the desert, in the water in the air 
Mexico in a heartbeat I was yours
The eagle on the cactus with a serpent clutched firmly in its claw

We went to Acapulco, saw the divers, heard the surf
In the time before the bad stuff when we lived and loved and laughed
Saw the dancing in Oaxaca, the hilltop ruins and that big tree tree
Climbed the pyramids of Yucatan We were young and good and free
And the history of gods and men, a mythology of wonder
The desert sun, volcano ice, the approach of distant thunder
Mexico It was you that I adored
The eagle on the cactus with a serpent clutched firmly in its claw

There’s colour and there’s music, there’s laughter but there are tears
The carefree bell rings liberty, but you can smell the bitter fear
From the shame of Chinameca to the Tlatelolco stain
The drug war deaths, the violence, God here it comes again
Now there’s Ayotzinapa a name of loss and grief and rage 
The violence of injustice that some poor people face
Mexico, sometimes you're like a mad world without laws
The eagle on the cactus with a serpent clutched firmly in its claw


The years move on regardless, the stories fade and heal
Sometimes the past seems so extraordinary you can’t believe it’s real
They say you can’t go back, you can’t stay still, even a country has to move
it carries all its history, sure, but there’s still so much to prove
And me I’ll keep on going back for the past and future too
Like a drugged up fix of memory, the excitement of the new
Mexico I just keep on wanting more
The eagle on the cactus with a serpent clutched firmly in its claw,
 Mexico (hey Trump don’t build that fucking wall)
The eagle on the cactus with a serpent clutched firmly in its claw
Mexico in a heartbeat I was yours
The eagle on the cactus with a serpent clutched firmly in its claw

The eagle and the serpent

Vultures

Provoked by a photo of kids in Aleppo, Syria, this  song is about the plight of refugees in this (sometimes) uncaring world. I have recorded this before in my CD 'When we sing together' but this version was recorded live at the great Bardfield folk club in March 2019.

This is track 6 of a new album 'Looking for signs', featuring cellist Josh Lynch. For more information see www.otherloves.co.uk

harmerj