Wistman's Wood (2015)
A Cautionary Tale.

The very first Napier's track.

Wistman's Wood is an ancient copse of dwarf oaks high on the wild slopes of Dartmoor in the South-West of England.

A place steeped in Druidic legends and tales of encounters with the Devil.

Old Crockern as he is known locally, has a tendency to hunt lost souls with his pack of dreadful Wisht Hounds, driving the unfortunate victims to their deaths over the precipice of the Dewerstone.

Please heed this warning because you may not be so lucky.

After all, everywhere has its own Wistman's Wood.

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Part I : The Return

Two Bridges on my mind, Old and New at once, together side by side, 
Fond-remembered place of hazy carefree games
Now I returned, Oh how I yearned for those days
Perhaps to cross to find again the man I used to be?

There before me, hallowed ancient Dartmoor
Druid stones, velvet moss, just how it always was
A thousand feet beyond the bustling, frantic valley
The wizened oaks of Wistman's Wood, at Sunset I would go

This magic place, last surviving trace of an older vanished time
A time before the anxious life, a prisoner of the clock
Taking photographs, the trees, the sky, the rocks
To freeze the view and free the feelings I had lost

As I stand amongst the twisted mossy oaks
A sense that I belong here, swells to fill my heart
In the flooding warmth of golden evening sunshine
I rest awhile, these sentinels will keep me safe from harm

I'm coming home
I am home
-----------------------------
Part II : The Haunting

It all feels different now, the Wood transformed as I slept
Where once was beauty, Gnarled twisted trees, they snarl grotesque

All in darkness, no welcome in this sun starved place
A hissing whisper grows, from creviced rocks, from ancient graves!

What is this place?
Something's wrong here
I don't belong here

Golden sunlit welcome gone, Twilight, sterile, in its place
In haste I came to Wistman's Wood, to regain all I lacked

Choking on the air of sadness, contempt for those alive
This stunted copse now mocks my weakness, its magic holds me fast!

I must escape here
I have no place here

But how?
------------------------------
Part III : The Hunt

Across the moonlit slopes of Crocken Tor, a figure moves
I'm not alone, the fear dispelled, moving fast he'll reach me soon

He's drawing closer now, he must have heard my cries
His dogs run free, they've got my scent, they'll soon be at my side

Frenzied barks and howls and clouds of breath
Flashing yellow teeth and eyes of red

This is the Wisht Hounds Hunt!!

I've got to run for my life - I've got to try to get home

Nooooooo! 
Help me!
Leave me alone!
You can't have me, you can't have my soul!

Running for my life now, Terror on the open moor
Relentlessly pursued by The Devil's Spectral Hounds!

Almost at the track, a gate, a stile I recognise
Another quarter mile beyond the Dewerstone
---------------------------------
Part IV : The Testament

As I reflect upon my testament
I try and fail at making sense of that night's events
My broken bones have healed but mental scars
Are with me still, in restless nights and feverish midnight hours

All I saw, all I heard
I give my word this story's true, this warning is for you

Rocks inscribed with rites of druid sacrifice
Spirits evil lay in wait to trap lost souls at night

The past should stay the past, good and bad interred
Decide the future here and now, please just heed my words!

Will no one believe me? Condemned to live that night over again eternally....
-----------------------
The End?

Wistman's Wood (2015)

The Transfiguration : 

3. No Return?
Napier's Bones, January 2016

From the new album "Hell and High Water"
__________
The Squire's ghost, bathed in praeternatural light, pauses to absorb his surroundings, eyes wide open but staring blankly. Present yet in defiance of the physical world and its laws.

Strands of hair are stirred by an unnatural breeze as this glorious,  radiant apparition points toward the investigator, "another so-called seeker of the Truth".

A lifetime of taking measurements and adhering to scientific principles couldn't prepare him for this encounter, a coalescence of the temporal and eternal.

Frightened,  amazed and mesmerised in turn, the man remembers the rhymes and folklore of his childhood and shakes off his hypnotic fascination. If this is Squire Cabell's ghost then his problems have only just begun.

A low, hollow, hissing sound changes to a sonorous groan as the Squire addresses his captive audience.....
__________

Another so-called seeker of the truth, 
Another Fool in search of wisdom
Another Fool demanding proof

I care not for your difference engines
Machines cannot the truth divine
Your petty laws, philosophy
In the darkness cannot shine

I serve a different master now
No chains of sin, no need atone
As Doubting Thomas found belief
All you have is Death Alone

Mark well, no artifice
Your monuments and spires crumble, it all comes down to this

We, The Hidden Ones, The Veiled Ones, Eternally
We, The Hidden Ones, The Veiled Ones, Eternity

And Veiled Thou Art !

*** Children's Rondo : Distant***

In this Half-World, this land of dreams
The dark, forbidden realms of sacred mystery
Far removed from mortal ebb and flow
Condemned to watch, and watch alone, all the life I've known

Such a long way, Such a long way
Such a long way from home

Such a long way, Such a long way
I'm so very far from home
__________

"Every man must do two things alone : he must do his own believing and his own dying"
Martin Luther

3. No Return?

Napier's Bones are :

Nathan Jon Tillett
Gordon Midgley   

Taking the Classic Prog sound as a foundation to create challenging, extended form progressive rock music. 

Our first three albums are available as "Name Your Price" downloads via Bandcamp. Each package comes complete with print-at-home scaled CD case inlays.
Sessions for the 4th album are underway with a release targeted for early 2017.

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