The Ashgrove - Songs from Long Ago

The Green Fields Of France/250,000 young brits died in the Great War to end all wars

 Gillian Welch Cover by Caroline Törnberg, Tim Platt and Anders Olsson on mandolin

Acony Bell by Gillian Welch

Live living room music this afternoon with Caroline Törnberg.

May The Road Rise To Meet You - Homemade Music

Tim and Caroline trying out a very old church song in a living room with puppies and children.

In The Sweet Bye And Bye- homemade living room music

Amazing Grace  - homemade duet

Tim and Caroline trying out harmonies on this old song and this is what happened.

Ill Fly Away (Homemade Music)

My Rainbow Race, a Pete Seeger song

Die Gedanken Sind Frei (Thoughts are Free) – a very, very old Dangerous Song.
White Rose resistance member Sophie Scholl, played this tune on her flute in 1942 outside Ulm prison for her father, who was imprisoned therein for speaking out against Hitler. 
Verse 3. "And throwing me in the darkest dungeon is futile because my thoughts tear through the barriers  and walls : Thoughts are free."

Die Gedanken Sind Frei (Thoughts are Free) with Antje Zumbansen

TheGhost Of Pete Seeger2

Die Gedanken Sind Frei Mixjuli2019

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

Live recording with Caroline Törnberg song, Tim Platt song and guitar, Dagge Issjö bass

You are My Sunshine

This is an amorous song, sung to beloved Caisa Lisa as she dozes sweetly amongst pillows and quilts. A lullaby.  The pendulum of his thoughts swings between Jovian thunder of passion and beautiful calm thereafter, between cozy, warm, homey, loving sentiments and the existential fragility of life and love against the background of death and loneliness, all in one short song, encompassing everything. Here is an English translation:

Glimmering Nymph! Flashing eye! Soaring Shape on cushions high! Innocent strength! 
     Come, come to worship, 
     At a slim and blown-out candle, 
     The God of sleep, our Morpheus. 
The Hatch already closed, the Door shut, 
The Nightcap already tied 'round your head, 
Already Norström's pigtailed wig 
is hanging on its nail. 
Sleep, fall asleep to my Music.

The Chaffinch just, just now, Caisa Lisa, 
Dozing quit his warbling song; 
     The Sun has just set, 
     And the Sky has thickened, 
     Solitude's silence prevails; 
     I go to Freya's worship. 
The Rain poured down in thunderous flames, 
Vaulting the sky in fiery arc, 
Which calm and lovely appears 
In purple, gold, and green, 
After earth received Jove's thunder.

Go to sleep, my Nymph! Dream of my lyre, 
Until our Sun arises at four o'clock, 
     And you stretch out, 
     And reach your arms 
     To my carafe and my embrace, 
     Fired by my blood and name. 
Caisa, you are dying! Heaven! She breathes; 
Death gives life and love is mistaken. 
But though your pulse beat's weak, 
Your eye shuts glad. 
Hold the Fiddle; good night! good night!


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