1. |
Burn Down The Houses
05:06
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Put a little sunshine in your world and you might find
The best things you have in life they are not bread and wine
And these old shoes they’re old and used they used to be blue but
Now they are a different colour.
Put a little daydream in your world and you will see
Letters that you sent to him they were not read by me
Flooded with questions and still you can not see that,
That to him, that to him you’re just a number
Sharp are the wits of the wildest of men
In from the sea get dragged out again
Fetters and words and letters offend
The greatest of promise breakers
Burn down the houses, lay siege to the gardens
Ravage these streets are sins I’ll have no part in
Hooray boys, hooray boys, hooray.
Little drops of water floating right down my door
This house it is cold and damp but I could not ask for more
And ghosts surround me and they become my friends
And then I, I close my eyes and they have left me again.
I put a flame in to a box and I let it unfold
Wait for days to hear these stories untold
But you’re still flooded with questions and still you cannot know
From hence they come and to which place they go.
Afternoon breathes in the smoldering light
The fumes from the drunkards who fade in the light
Like Polaroid pictures from parties that rove on for days
If I tap at your window, please let me in
My coat with repute I have dragged all across town
Through backstreets and alleys and stairwells
To lie on your floor.
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2. |
Fruit Bat
04:17
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Just three hours of sunlight
Let’s walk to the river
Down where there’s bones sticking out of the water.
Regarding the hunger in the heron I found
Down by the waterside.
All the boys will go running
The girls will go sailing.
They’ve grown too accustomed
And close to their failing
And walk to another time and place,
Just how they’re feeling so today
On these livid, molested streets
That’s where I’ll be stealing your heart away.
When confusion it sets in, that’s mass dehydration
I’m all out at sea, there’s salt in my eyes.
Stop singing shanties about wandering around
Not once have I stepped on that merry-go-round.
From dusk until dawn, from twilight to starlight
He’ll spread both his wings and in darkness to take flight
And soar through wind and rain
With poems of passions play
And own his city streets
Until down once more he’ll lay.
But this was never about me
Thank Christ it was never for you.
Just words for the faces so vacant of graces
They’re on codeine and three o’clock news.
So greetings you hard men you brothers of liars
Whose knuckles are scabbed, they’re broken, they’re tired.
You were caught by the girls who had cherries for eyes
Break down, you’re ready, you’re tame.
They call me the fruit bat; I’m wild and contagious
But don’t misunderstand I was never courageous
I rise from caves at night
Looking for mango and passion fruit,
Music, pirate tales, love
and you.
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3. |
The Ghost of Tara Browne
03:57
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You wait your turn
And I’ll come right spritely.
And the smoke from my nose will drift up past my eyes
Towards the buildings you loved so well at night.
And I’ll take one look
I’ll take just one look at you
But the ghosts in your head or the books that you claimed you’ve read
Will never distinguish these thoughts and these dreams
I’ve had of you.
Ya thought you heard noises from the attic
That’s just the ghost of Tara Browne
He’s singin’ low.
And I’ll take one peak
I’ll take just one peak for you.
And if with both my eyes
I see nothing arise
I shall have to lay down my head and sleep.
And when you lay down
And you claim that you hear a sound
Just remember that the whispers from the hall they cannot make you fall
past the daydreams and shadows
That I have laid well out for you
Ya thought you heard singin’ down from the kitchen
That’s just the spirit of Polly Fane
And she’s singin’ low.
And the ghost of Tara Browne,
He loves the spirit of Polly fane.
They’re singin low
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4. |
Fill my Cup
04:12
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With all the hearts I’ve loved and lost I turn a little more to stone
Fill my cup
And Susan asked me on Sunday as to why I live alone
Fill my cup
Torn scented perfumed pages, they’re the letters that I read
Fill my cup
Swan songs and distant echoes of the ones that I made bleed
Fill my cup
Fill my cup till it overflows
Image unavailable, that’s just my plywood art décor
Fill my cup
And books with empty pages that somehow cut right to the core
Fill my cup
Fill my cup till it overflows
Poached eggs and toasted wheaten bread and salted butter please
Fill my cup
And country songs on an autumn morn that will bring to your knees
Fill my cup
Fill my cup till it overflows
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5. |
Currents
03:09
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There’s a current that flows
right through a heater in my room
expels the warmth with all that
deep, rich orange glow.
Same current ran through my mother
When I was in the womb,
Breathe life into my fingers and my toes.
Oh baby, when you cry,
You know I cannot sleep at night.
Oh my darling, there are wolves on these streets
And they’ll keep you from the light.
Into the darkness I ran once more
And onward through the ether
Skull and crossbones still waving at high tide.
With nothing to approve,
Disbelieve or misconstrue,
Just with slight of hand and no place left to hide.
Sail away, on a sinking ship
That was ripped right through the bow.
And these cannonballs
that ripped right through the walls
they won’t cease to drag me down.
We get along, oh so well.
There’s a current that flows
Right through a heater in my room
Expels the warmth with all that
Deep rich orange glow.
The same current ran through my father
When he spoke of Leo Bloom
Breathe life into my fingers and my words.
But there’s a difference,
Something’s changed inside my eyes
And I cannot sleep at night.
For the blistering winds
have taken hold of me again,
and they’ll keep me from the light.
they’ll keep me from you.
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6. |
A St. John's Tale
05:05
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All of the good days in this old town have died
The gold rush dried up and the oil did reside
Young boys grow up into staggered old men
Who shake off their tears in the pouring rain.
Now tell me what did you think of sweet old Polly Ann
She said, “We’ll never see the likes of John Henry again.”
He was killed by his love of the workin’ kind
And laid down to the sound of a blue Jay’s cry
Singin’ my-oh, my-oh what a sight to see
My Oh, my oh, me.
Well they boiled off the land and turned the ocean to steam
But there’s savings for all in the Air Miles scheme
And the lights they let flicker from the Muskrat dam(n)
But not one can stand up to be counted.
How you see yourself is just not how it is
You’re just not quite as cool as those Kensington kids.
The whole day in this way though we pray when it rains
And thank God for a good rock to stand on.
With mist on the water and fog in the eyes
Of the ghosts in the part of town where nobody drives
But I’ve tasted sunshine in the words of the mothers
Who pray for their boys to come on home.
Well they’re standing on platforms
And sailing the seas.
Taken away on a wave and a breeze
To go hunt the king, seek the blood of the world,
Think I’d love to be home come suppertime.
Singin’ my oh, my oh what a way to be
My oh, my oh, me.
But there’s only one real way a man can be free
Only so many lonely nights one can take
if there’s only so much love between you and me
Well I swear I’ll come home real soon
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7. |
The Teapot
05:28
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I’m silvern and hardly ever watched
and I’m running a little hot.
Here is my handle, love,
here is where you touch.
Steam and spout, I’m out of shouts,
please won’t you pour me out.
My heart and soul are a roiling boil
So tip me over and pour me out.
Poor me, pour me
Into the sea.
To be with the seaweed and the algae.
Poor me, pour me,
So I can rise as steam
To bathe away these troubles
To rinse these blood cells clean.
A ring-o-royal daffodils
And the tearstains on his cheeks
The earthen scent of a troubadour
Who’s been travelling for weeks.
And when there’s heat, there’s hell to pay
For all the stories that he’s sold
The flames rise higher for the musical squire
So tip me over and pour me out
Poor me…
I’m silvern and hardly ever watched
And I’m running a little cold
My lukewarm smiles like a shy child’s
Or the shaking legs of a foal
In the palm of your hand, I’ve no command
For I have grown weak
And tepid, and tired, my love perspired,
Tip me over into the sink
Poor me…
Poor me, pour me,
Into the sea.
I am the seaweed and the algae
Poor me, pour me,
‘Til I have run bone dry
Tip me ‘til I’m good and empty,
‘Til the steam turns in to sighs.
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8. |
Talež
06:32
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I was drowning in streetlights,
And carloads of banshees,
Just up the top of the hill.
Get me miles and miles away from here before I implode.
All the taxi-rank drivers
To park street survivors
who carry the weight of the world.
If they ran the place-
then we’d all be grand, I suppose.
I was struck by the moonlight
On your skin, on your face,
I was hit by the memory of your kin
In a different place
‘Til I was lost in the moonlight again.
When July’s near ended
And tensions are loaded
Into aeroplanes people will go
But they’ll return home in a week or so drunk as before
From gentrified places
to western disgraces
But there’s refuge on top of the hill
Where there’s kindness in strangers
And a smile is a world of it’s own
you and I, we’ll remain home, no matter which place we go.
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9. |
A Fox and A Robin
04:15
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These embers are ending and baby I’m listenin’
There’s a fire that’s glistening on the inside
The winds outside curse but I tell you what’s worse
Are the gales that blow me from side to side.
But lucky for me I’ve a tale to tell
Of a man that I knew some time ago
And you’ve got too much time to kill
so I’ll just say it once and that’s all we’ll be needing
He came from a big town, in fact quite a large one
But not quite a city if you know what I mean
One day he went rambling havin’ grown disenchanted
With the false claims of hard men, their women in kind.
To seek out the true face of kindness
Reach for a hand that might fit his own
Where welcomed are the wild and the slighted
Just bring him there once and that’s all he’ll be needing.
On train tracks and motorways and side roads and bridges
Misspelled names of punk band all sprayed on the wall.
He said my new friends are foxes and robins on fences
The occasional memory and books I might find.
With words that flush out the senses
Thoughts of days by my brother’s side
Wings that compose me the morning dew
And seek to be sly that’s all we’ll be needing.
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10. |
Brian O'Linn
02:53
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Brian O’Linn had no breaches to wear
He got an old sheepskin to make him a pair.
With the fleshy side out and the wooly side in,
“They’ll be pleasant and cool,” says Brian O’Linn.
Brian O’Linn had no shirt to his back,
He went to neighbour’s and borrowed a sack
Then he puckered the meal bag in under his chin.
“Sure they’ll take ‘em for ruffles,” says Brian O’Linn
Brian O’Linn was hard up for a coat.
So he borrowed the skin of a neighbouring goat.
With the horns sticking out from his oxters and then,
“Sure they’ll take ‘em for pistols,” says Brian O’Linn
Brian O’Linn had no hat to put on
So he got an old beaver to make him a one
There was none of the crown left and less of the brim,
“Sure ‘tis fine ventilation,” says Brian O’Linn.
Brian O’Linn to his house had no door
He’d the sky for a roof and the bog for a floor
He’d a way to jump out, and a way to swim in.
“Tis a fine habitation,” says Brian O’Linn
Brian O’Linn went a-courting one night.
He set both the mother and daughter to fight.
To fight for his hand, they both stripped to the skin.
“Sure I’ll marry ya both,” says Brian O’Linn.
Brian O’Linn, his wife and wife’s mother
Were all going home o’er the bridge together.
The bridge it broke down and they all tumbled in
“Sure we’ll go home by water,” says Brian O’Linn.
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The Dandelion Few St. John'S, Newfoundland and Labrador
The Dandelion Few is the collaborative work of artists Tiffanie George & Seán Bradley. Poetic, pensive and intimate, their take on modern folk music has been described as both beautiful and dark with touches of the recent past. Often working in conjunction with other musicians and artists of various mediums, they have become well known for their harmony- rich vocals and intimate performances. ... more
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