1. |
The Albino Peacock
03:30
|
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2. |
Coffee Countdown
04:22
|
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|
Churchyard gate is open
Bear my body in there
Take me through that black gate
High upon your shoulders
Pile my grave with roses
High above my tombstone
Take your yellow headscarf
Throw it on my graveside
Drink to my sad memory
Palinka, plum brandy
Pour black coffee on me
One last machiatto
|
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3. |
Lucy Hampton's Wedding
05:42
|
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|
It’s Lucy’s wedding day
First Saturday in May
Smiling faces, friends she knows.
Marquee lawn where chamomile grows
Three bridesmaids in a row
They make the finest show
Dear Lucy is their queen
Prettier than she’s ever been
Old uncles dancing slow
With their wives like long ago
Share that moment in their life
So proud to be a wife
One day it will be her turn
Bathed in fizz and gentle sunburn
Past and future all in one
Lucy’s wedding in the sun
|
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4. |
Malo
06:23
|
|||
5. |
Fizzlesticker
03:08
|
|||
6. |
Snitterfield
05:43
|
|||
|
Trainride to the country,
Filtered light slips through the trees.
Leaves and ghosts,
Leaves and ghosts
Bonfire smoulder, ember glowing,
Mud, the pale sun lit their knees.
Stick and fire,
Sticks and leaves and ghosts
Basket, bread and pastry,
Reading poems, picking sloes.
For a while,
For a while
Dappled memory, fading evening,
Train and twilight bring a close.
Only ghosts,
Only leaves and ghosts
|
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7. |
The Left Hand Reel
05:44
|
|||
8. |
Polska
04:33
|
|||
9. |
I Wish
06:48
|
|||
|
I wish, I wish but it's all in vain,
I wish I were a maid again,
But a maid again I ne’er can be
Since that boy lay still with me.
I wish my baby it were born
And smiling on his daddy's knee,
And I would be in yon churchyard
With long green grass growing over me.
Oh when my apron strings hung low
He followed me through frost and snow,
But now my apron’s to my chin
He passes by and he says nothing
Oh, there's an alehouse in this town,
Where my love goes and sits himself down,
He takes this strange girl on his knee,
And isn't that a grief for me.
Oh grief oh grief I'll tell you why:
That girl has more gold than I,
More gold than I more beauty, more fame,
But she will come like me again
So I wish I wish but it's all in vain,
I wish I were a maid again,
But a maid again I ne’er can be,
Till apples grow from an orange tree.
Dig me a grave long wide and deep
With a marble something at my feet
Two purple-white doves up above
To let the world know that I died for love
|
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Bonfire Radicals Birmingham, UK
The electrifying sound of Bonfire Radicals is intensely creative & irresistibly
fun.
A raucous and danceable feast of dynamic, high-octane, prog-folk music: original and (un)traditional tunes and songs from the British Isles to the Balkans.
"A serious powerhouse of a performance ... foot-stomping and adrenalin-powered and came on like folk music played by ravers." - The Artsdesk ★★★★
... more
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