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Fields of the North

by Michael Kelly

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1.
Spancil Hill 04:51
Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasant days gone by My mind being set on roving, to Ireland I did fly I stepped on board a vision, and followed with the wind 'Till at last I came to anchor at the cross of Spancilhill Delighted by the novelty, enchanted by the scene Where in my early childhood so many times I'd been I thought I heard a murmur, sure I think I hear it still T'was the gentle stream of water that flows through Spancilhill To amuse a passing fancy I lay upon the ground And I saw my school companions, they shortly gathered 'round As we were home returning, we danced with bright goodwill To the pipes of Martin Connohan at the cross of Spancilhill It being the twenty-third of June, the day before the fair When Ireland's sons and daughters in crowds assembled there The young, the old, the brave and bold, their journeys to fulfill There were jovial conversations at the field of Spancilhill I stepped up to my neighbours, to see what they might say The old ones, they were dead and gone, the young ones turning grey I met with tailor Quigley, he's as bold as ever, still Sure, he used to make my britches when I lived on Spancilhill I paid a flying visit to my first and only love She's as fair as any lily and as gentle as a dove She threw her arms around me, saying "Johnny, I love you still" She's Ned the farmer's daughter, and the pride of Spancilhill I dreamed I held and kissed her as I did in days of yore She said, "Johnny, you're only jokin' as so many the time before" The cock crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill I awoke in California, many miles from Spancilhill
2.
Irish Boy 04:38
In yonder wood there is a bird They say he's wild as he can be Oh, how I wish that bird was me Since my true love has left me CHORUS And oh, what a foolish young girl was I Who fell in love with an Irish boy An Irish boy he may well be But he spoke Braid Scots when he courted me I wish, I wish, I wish in vain I wish I were a maid again But a maid again, I ne'er shall be Till an apple grows on a rowen tree (Chorus) The song of birds may glad the world Yet bring to mind a sorrow key For he is gone, now I must bide Would I had love instead of pride (Chorus)
3.
Fare thee well, my own true love For I am going far away I am bound for California But I know that I'll return someday CHORUS: So fare thee well, my own true love When I return, united we shall be It's not the leaving of Liverpool that's grieving me But, m'darling, when I think of thee I am sailing on a Yankee ship The Davey Crockett is her name And the captain's name is Burgess And they say she is a floating shame (Chorus) The sun is on the harbour, love And I wish that I could remain Cause I know it'll be a long, long time Before e'er I see you again (Chorus x2)
4.
Covered in dirt and mud, aching and spitting blood, Cursing, you stir to rise and groan Muffled in yet-to-come, mutters a battle drum Wolves don't usually walk alone CHORUS: Think on the battle-cost; this time, the wolf has lost Beaten and broken and blind Better beware, my lord; better prepare, my lord; I was the least of my kind Prying my switchblade cold out of my fingers' hold Pause to take stock, reflect, and rue Look on the damage done here by a single one What do you think the full pack will do? (Chorus) Careless, I came by chance, joining in battle's dance Slain in a fight I could not win Far off, a wolf pack hears; heads turn, with pricking ears Thought you, my lord, that I had no kin? (Chorus)
5.
Under the hammer of the sun on our backs On the anvil of Earth we were made Our bodies hard crafted by toil on the land Lacking simplest of tools for our trade Without hammer or ploughshare or blade When the evening drew, we all fled to our homes Where our youngest would tremble and weep For the night was the time of the lion and wolf And, to them, we were no more than sheep And the beasts came for us in our sleep Ogun heard our cries as He worked at His forge And He turned thoughtful eyes to our plight And, with one calloused hand, grabbed a brand from the fire For to bring us the flame and the light For to draw back the veil of the night At the mountain, He taught us to dig for black iron And to craft it with hammer and hand Now, with tools for the farm, we were lords of the field And, with spearheads, the lords of the land And the beasts would soon learn to fear man But, for some, the land's bounty was never enough And we turned greedy eyes to our kin And the gifts of the gods would be warped by our hands For the greed and the glory of men Damn the pride of the kingdoms of men! We sharpened the tools that we'd used in the fields And we harvested men like the grain With the gifts of Ogun, we let out their bright blood And we watered the fields like the rain With each death, we sang out Ogun's name Ogun heard those cries, and He looked from His forge With disgust at the carnage we'd wrought For, in banishing fear, we'd become fear itself Tenfold worse than the beasts we had fought And undone all the good He had sought Ogun's hammer, He cast from His hand to the dust And He let the fires cool on the hearth To the forest He left, with a curse on his lips For the men who's corrupted His worth; Who now buried their kin in the earth We returned from out battles, our victories sweet But to find that our fires had grown cold And our fields had lain fallow while we were away We had nothing to eat but the gold That we'd robbed from our neighbours of old With the Maker now gone to the forest, we found That we had not the will to rebuild Though we prayed to Ogun, all our wells remained dry And our fields lay unplowed and untilled And the pits of our bellies unfilled Good friends, forget not that the strengths of Ogun Are all lent you with kindness and trust And that all you might gain from a gift that's abused In the end, seldom outweighs the cost Of the strengths and the honour that's lost For, the spirit of work is more precious than gold And the blessing of craft is its boon All the glory and wealth of the kingdoms of men Are all dust without the sweat of Ogun For the spirit of work is Ogun For the spirit of work is Ogun
6.
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear, lend an ear Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear Ye Jacobites by name Your faults I do proclaim Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear, you shall hear Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear. What is right, and what is wrong, by the law, by the law? What is right and what is wrong by the law? What is right, and what is wrong? A weak arm or a strong A short straw, or a long, for to draw, for to draw A short straw, or a long, for to draw. What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar? What makes heroic strife famed afar? What makes heroic strife? To whet th' assassin's knife, And lose a Long child's life in bloody war, bloody war And lose a Long child's life in bloody war? Then leave your schemes alone, in the state, in the state Then leave your schemes alone in the state. Then let your schemes alone, Adore the rising sun, And leave a man undone, to his fate, to his fate. And leave a man undone, to his fate.
7.
Foggy Dew 04:55
T'was was down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I When Ireland's lines of marching men In squadrons passed me by No pipe did hum, no battle drum Did sound it's fierce tattoo But the Angelus Bell o'er the Liffey's swell Rang out in the foggy dew Right proudly high over Dublin town They flung out a flag of war 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through While Brittania's sons with their long range guns Sailed in through the foggy dew Oh, the night drew black and the rifles' crack Made perfidious Albion reel 'Mid the leaden rail, seven tongues of flame Shone out o'er the lines of steel By each shining blade, a prayer was said That, to Ireland, her sons be true And when morning broke, still the war flag shook Out its fold in the foggy dew T'was England bade our Wild Geese go, That small nations might be free But their lonely graves are by Suvla's waves or the fringe of the grey North Sea Oh, but had they died by Pearse's side or had fought with Cathal Brugha Their graves we'd keep where the Fenians sleep 'Neath the shroud of the foggy dew But the bravest fell, and the requiem bell Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Eastertide In the springtime of the year And the world did gaze with deep amaze At those fearless men and true Who bore the fight that freedom's light Might shine through the foggy dew And back through the glen did I ride again And my heart with grief was sore For I parted then with valiant men Whom I never shall see more But to and fro in my dreams I go And I kneel and pray for you For slavery fled, oh glorious dead When you fell in the foggy dew
8.
For a journal bound in leather fine, as soft as human skin, A gripping beast embossed thereon and all the world therein, I bargained with a Power; I need scarcely mention who, And should I keep it till my death, the standard fee falls due. CHORUS: Under the gripping beast is all the price I'll pay, For I'm quits of all my bargain, if I throw the book away. But for that pain of parting, there can be no balm, nor salve; For just an hour longer, I will hold to what I have. I sat there, that first evening, the book upon my knee. I opened it, and held my breath, for fear of what I'd see. The stuff of creativity, from Hell and Heaven wrung; The ghosts of tales untested and of stories yet unsung. (Chorus) As I read, my breathing raced to meet my heart's demand, For scraps of songs and stories there were written in my hand. I turned to seize a pencil and my eyes were fever-bright; I slept but half an hour, but I wrote three songs that night. (Chorus) My songs and stories brought me joy, honor they did win. Without the book, I still would be an orphan looking in. The thought that I must lose it is the sum of all my fears. "For just an hour longer" I have held it fifty years. (Chorus) I've tasted of creation and the time draws near to rest, But I haven't finished writing, and the last must be the best. I battle death by inches and too soon will know defeat But I won't discard the book before my swansong is complete. (Chorus) Beloved of the singer, I, and harper to her song Yet time to time I sensed in her some strange and silent wrong Though long our life together, and her songs we played with pride She kept her secret pain from me until the day she died NEW CHORUS: Into the fire lies the path that I must tread For I swear I'll pull her from the flames or burn there in her stead Her gentle rest I could have borne, but now the price I know Into the beast's eternal grip I cannot let her go The price she paid was shown me as I stood beside the bier For I bent to give a farewell kiss and grief turned into fear Two things clutched tightly to her breast that froze me where I stood A journal bound in leather and a parchment signed in blood (Chorus) I closed my eyes and laid my torch to the timbers of the pyre Stood summoning my courage as I faced the blazing fire With all the force of rage and grief I called Him in my mind Then felt the flames engulf me and in blood-red strike me blind (Chorus) There in His court I met His gaze, my blood a pounding drum No words we spoke, He knew my mind, He knew why I had come I flexed my aging fingers as I touched them to the strings I held her face within my mind and then began to sing A song of love so pure that it could reach through darkest pain For tears shone on His face as we were freed from His domain I marveled even through my joy as we left the fiery keep Waterfalls could run uphill; Lucifer could weep (Chorus) We said our last farewell and she stepped through the shining gate I found myself at home again, the hour growing late There on her empty pillow lay, and God knows what within, A journal bound in leather fine, as soft as human skin.
9.
The deeds of Sherwood's outlaw band Are felt by all within this land And, far and wide, the tales are told Of the man who wields the bow The Norman soldiers fear your name With every act, they cast the blame On you, for all the sheriff's woes, The man who wields the bow The peasants hail you, brave Robin The heart and soul of your merry men But, as figurehead, how can they know The man behind the bow? For, the fame of hero, bard, or king Will them eclipse, with its shadow The eyes of men too charmed to see The man behind the bow But there is one whose eyes are clear A noble maid, of Norman birth Who sees the man within the legend More than any on this earth So Robin, cast your bow aside Your robber's hood, leave with your men Tonight, you're not outlaw and maid Just Robin and Marion, Just Robin and Marion Give all your love, true as your aim And you will find hers is the same If you but turn to her and show The heart behind the bow For, when your heart feels her love's touch It will be pierced, but so made whole And you will find it's -you- she loves, The man behind the bow
10.
Snaefell, Tynwald, Ben My Chree Fourteen ships have sailed the sea Proudly bearing a Manx name But there's one will never again Oh Ellan Vannin, of the Isle of Man Company Oh Ellan Vannin, lost in the Irish Sea At one a.m. in Ramsey bay Captain Teare was heard to say "Our contract said deliver the mail in this rough weather we must not fail" Oh Ellan Vannin, of the Isle of Man Company Oh Ellan Vannin, lost in the Irish Sea Ocean liners sheltered from the storm Ellan Vannin on the waves was borne Her hold was full and battened down As she sailed towards far Liverpool Town Oh Ellan Vannin, of the Isle of Man Company Oh Ellan Vannin, lost in the Irish Sea With a crew of twenty-one Manx men Her passengers, Liverpool businessmen Farewell to Mona's Isle, farewell This little ship was bound for hell Oh Ellan Vannin, of the Isle of Man Company Oh Ellan Vannin, lost in the Irish Sea Less than a mile from the Bar lightship By a mighty wave Ellan Vannin was hit She sank in the waters of Liverpool Bay There she lies until this day Oh Ellan Vannin, of the Isle of Man Company Oh Ellan Vannin, lost in the Irish Sea
11.
From my planned and proper course, I falter towards the source Of the road that I've traveled so long With each passing mile I tread, I can't Help but be lead By the wind and its homecoming song CHORUS: An Tir, my home, how far have I roamed Since the Day from your shores I set forth In my heart, I only yearn once more to return To the rolling green fields of the North I remember well the day my path led me astray From the place that I loved most on Earth For my fortunes to be made, a bard and rover by trade, Must I stride from the land of my birth (Chorus) Good and merry friends I've found in each homestead, in each town That I've stayed in to sing for my bread But though kind is every face, they just can't take the place Of the long distant home that I fled (Chorus) I will see the Western shore, as so many times before And the Lions' peaks dusted with snow I will walk the wooded glens with my kin and long lost friends And lament at the time I must go (Chorus) When my pockets brim with gold, and my tales have all been told Then perhaps I can rest on that day But until that is arranged, my fates are unchanged And I know that I long cannot stay (Chorus) In my heart, I only yearn once more to return To the rolling green fields... of the North
12.
Fare thee well, my own true love For I am going far away I am bound for California But I know that I'll return someday CHORUS: So fare thee well, my own true love When I return, united we shall be It's not the leaving of Liverpool that's grieving me But, m'darling, when I think of thee I am sailing on a Yankee ship The Davey Crockett is her name And the captain's name is Burgess And they say she is a floating shame (Chorus) The sun is on the harbour, love And I wish that I could remain Cause I know it'll be a long, long time Before e'er I see you again (Chorus x2)

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released February 1, 2003

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Michael Kelly Vancouver, British Columbia

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