CrowLore

I wrote and recorded this one a year or so ago. For some odd reason never released it. I have a number of songs that I'll be releasing in the upcoming weeks. 

All parts written, programmed, performed. recorded, mixed and arranged by me.

Into the Abyss

Mistress of Csejte

My white ones geese

This was the opening track in Nevermore's final recording together from 2010's The Obsidian Conspiracy.  Jeff Loomis has announced they are resurrecting the band and while I’m excited I am going to miss Warrel’s vocals.

The Termination Proclamation

Still Loving You

Working on new material after the full recording of my next full lenght...stay tuned for more and don't forget to follow Void Sinker on all social and media!
Composed, written, played and mixed by Guglielmo Allegro aka WillyKuma

Polution

The Fading Light

ITINER shit vocal demo

Molly's paradox

Mollys Ambition

Practiced recording/building tones with a little cover thing. :)
(No bass yet... haven't gotten a VST for that.)
Made w/ Toneforge Jason Richardson and EzMix
Drums are Ezdrummer 2

Earth Scar - Decapitated (Cover)

Messiah Of The Fields

They left me hanging on a cross
The saviour of the summer crops
Just rag and straw so no great loss
My blood is in the wheat and hops

I faced the black and vicious hoard
Their coal cruel eyes and sharpened beaks
I am the ragged overlord
Who scares the crow yet never speaks

They pray to me to save their soils
From dark boned devils of the sky
In sun heat this messiah toils
To force them to take wing and fly

My Judas is the winter wind
That cuts me with a subtle knife
God save me father I have sinned
I wished for an extended life

A sackcloth head, a straw frayed cuff
The prince of summer crucified
Facing the elements is tough
This ditch is where I lived and died

Yet when the Spring returns the blood
To ravaged fields of snow and frost
I will drag myself from thawing mud
And resurrected heal what we have lost

Messiah Of The Fields

White Witch Of Winter

Corvus the white witch
Once flew the sky on crow’s wings
And fed on battlefield dead
She ate the hearts of serfs and kings
But soon she lost the taste for flesh
And transformed into what winter brings
Her skin is cold to human touch
She feasts on other-worldly things

She turns snowflakes into blizzards
Freezes your blood and tears
She arrives with the cold north wind
laying ice upon your fears

She hates the crows for what they are
For she once fed on carrion too
She hates the way they cock their heads
And turn their coal black gaze on you
So when the black imps come to her
Requesting voices clear and true
She casts a spell that spites their wish
and in her soul a darkness grew

She hears the crows Kaw in distress
She walks the fields on winter nights
She floats through forests dark and bleak
And like the snow she, soft, alights
Upon the frosted fields of earth
Where she makes her stand and fights
The bitter crows of Albion
The age old war of blacks and whites

White Witch Of Winter

Apothecary

Beneath the ancient gallows tree
There sits an old apothecary
Where deep within its ancient rooms
Resides an old man selling ‘shrooms
That he has harvested from soil
Of graveyards where the serpents coil
And if the ache screams in your joints
Just follow where the way-marker points.

The place smells of dust and moist mildew
And the foul dark liquid he will brew
In copper pots and dirty flasks
Whose ingredients no one ever asks
But here the magic of the fey
Will help to take the pain away
So every year the weak and old
Will visit where new hope is sold

If this world becomes too much
If reality is hard to touch
Then take a slice of bitter ‘shroom
From the earth where sweet dreams bloom
The cost is just a piece of mind
So leave your hurts and cares behind
And visit on a winter’s night
To taste the harvest of delight

No one will hear your painless screams
With body healed but not your dreams
For they are cultivated by
The earth fruit that you dared to try
For every kiss there is a fist
Of something skulking in the mist
In the apothecary the old folk say
There is a devil’s price to pay

Apothecary

Prophecy

The crows tell of the walking man
Who travels fields by day and night
The walking man who’s not a man
Who strides between the dark and light

Soulless, cursed to stumble through
The endless hedgerows of the land
He wished for life but walks in death
He is the sweet prince of the damned

The hares and rabbits run from him
The fox and wolf walk by his side
He brings the plague and pestilence
And in his steps many have died

He had a life but wanted more
asked autumn’s witch to cast her spell
she gave him rebirth but the price
was tethered by the chains of hell

A prophecy of bone and blood
Of straw and dust and ragged pain
Alive under the summer sun
Stone dead below the snow and rain

the crows speak soft of what he is
he scares them as no other can
they fear the setting of the sun
the long shadow of the walking man

Be careful what you wish for child
For there are barbs in every rose
Each spell that’s cast must have a price
Here walks the nemesis of crows

Take heed of the warnings
What will be will be
The ragged man who walks the fields
fulfills the ancient prophecy

Prophecy (demo)

WORDS: Ian Whiteley
MUSIC: John Kettle

Crow Lore

We sit and watch the world go by
On fences long and oak trees high
The waxing moon the setting sun
We are the crows of Albion
We chronicle the human ways
Their restless nights and confused days
Mother, daughter, father, son
We are the crows of Albion

Yes – we are the crows
We are the crows
We are the crows of Albion

Our stories written down in books
Guarded well by crows and rooks
And no one knows what we have done
We are the crows of Albion
These simple etchings on a page
An almanac of human rage
A witch’s promise seldom won
We are the crows of Albion

Yes – we are the crows
We are the crows
We are the crows of Albion


This tome is writ in wise men’s blood
With beak and claw and ancient wood
Seen by no one read by none
We are the crows of Albion
Crow Lore for the young to read
And learn the lessons of our breed
The tales of ravens deftly spun
We are the crows of Albion

Yes – we are the crows
We are the crows
We are the crows of Albion
Yes – we are the crows
We are the crows
We are the crows of Albion

Crow Lore

WORDS & VOCALS: Ian Whiteley
MUSIC & INSTRUMENTS: John Kettle

Cycle Of The Scarecrow

A scarecrow in autumnal sheen
thinks of all that he has been.
His age old frame begins to lean
as bitter winds blow in, so keen.
He longs for days of evergreen,
so buys back time, wipes the slate clean, 
gives his soul to the pumpkin queen -
the witch who walks at Halloween.

The scarecrow dreams of living free
He thinks he’s gonna survive
The summer sun, the winter snow,
He’s never felt so alive.
The scarecrow dreams of living free
He thinks he’s gonna survive
The springtime thaw, the autumn leaves,
He’s never felt so alive.

A scarecrow in the wax moonlight
is snowed upon one winters night
and as the crystals, soft, alight
he dreams perhaps some day he might
take footsteps off into the bright
ice world. His skeletal delight
some hours later, fat and white
with snow-flesh -  waiting for coal sight.

The scarecrow dreams of leaving home
He thinks he’s gonna survive
The summer sun, the winter snow,
He’s never felt so alive.
The scarecrow dreams of leaving home
He thinks he’s gonna survive
The springtime thaw, the autumn leaves,
He’s never felt so alive.

A scarecrow in a cutting rain
watches his slush slide down the drain
and as it leaves, he feels the pain
as bones of wood protrude and drain.
Weak sunlight sows the sleeping grain
as he is called upon, again,
to stand guard over crops – attain
dominance over winters stain.

The scarecrow dreams of working hard
He thinks he’s gonna survive
The summer sun, the winter snow,
He’s never felt so alive.
The scarecrow dreams of working hard
He thinks he’s gonna survive
The springtime thaw, the autumn leaves,
He’s never felt so alive.

A scarecrow dries in summer sun
knowing that, once more, he’s won
the right of those, which he is one,
to face the crows of Albion.
Then as the solstice webs are spun
and shadows lengthen, day is done –
he knows that he cannot outrun 
what autumn’s beetles have begun. 

The scarecrow dreams of dying now
He’s not so sure he’ll survive
The summer sun, the winter snow,
He’s never felt less alive.
The scarecrow dreams of dying now
He’s not so sure he’ll survive
The springtime thaw, the autumn leaves,
He’s never felt less alive.

Cycle Of The Scarecrow [REDUX]

Originally from Wakefield West Yorkshire - now living in Wigan, Lancashire.
Bard Company/Crows Of Albion vocalist and Performance poet
Albums/Tracks can be purchased at: http://thecrowsofalbion.bandcamp.com/

Cycle Of The Scarecrow [REDUX]

The Crows Of Albion / Bard Company

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