| Ballyscully Live - Lyrics |
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| Written by Administrator | |||
| Sunday, 25 May 2008 21:02 | |||
Inglewood (Chris Burgin)A mountain deep in dispute With the others of the land Turned away and headed west To Taranaki where it now stands To the tangata whenua, people of the land It is understood That the path the mountain took on it's journey west Went through the town of Inglewood. Inglewood, just a small town In the shadow of the mountain With its shops, schools, churches and supermarkets, Friendly people and the rain. In the days of the Maori No one ever lived here Except for the moa that stalked the bush Until the hunters made them disappear Then came the white settlers in their sailing ships With their axes, saws and ploughs. Cut down the trees and drained the swamps For their farms and dairy cows. From Ketamarae with a bunch of menin 1866 General Chute goes to New Plymouth town And he's cutting his way through the bush He paused to camp for a time By the Kurapete Stream This is the spot where today The town of Inglewood can be seen. And since then the town has grown In so many ways Wooden shacks and muddy roads Are now the houses and the fast highways All this time the mountain's kept Its people safe from harm Tucked up in bed beside their milking sheds On their little dairy farms. Old Man Mine (Paddy Burgin)If I only had my wayI would pack my things today And over the hill I'd stray To the Old Man Mine And live again the stories told Of how we tore the rocks apart for gold And dug down to the very soul Of the Old Man Mine. By day the darkness and the gloom Our sun became the yellow moon Dirty water in a black saloon Down the Old Man Mine. While heavens turned our beds to mud We fought like tigers for the whisky jug But our hands were joined as if by blood Down the Old Man Mine. By night the concertina played `Fluenza plied her deadly trade In one hand I held all I made Down the Old Man Mine. Despite the fever in my chest I gave my shovel not an ounze of rest The years we gave they were the best Down the Old Man Mine Now some are born to pick and choose They argued over my pots and shoes But gave me a window with a view Of the Old Man Mine. Eyes so Blue (Paddy Burgin)When love comes downYou hold it in your grasp Don't think that I'm the last to know We'll open up our minds With stories that we find There's nowhere else I want to go Because I've been in a cage of worry And I need release Deep down in a pocket Just where you thought you lost it You went and found the key. Now I'll speak to you Like you're my oldest friend Standing on that sandy shore And I'll dry my eyes on the corner of your sighs All we have to do is close the door Take me back to that garden of Eden Where it all began Between the wind and the rain, The lovers and the lane, Between the woman and the man. Now everywhere I look Clouds on the horizon Temperatures are rising too And like the man in his ark I'd be alone in the dark But for you and your eyes so blue. The Wood Girl (Paddy Burgin)My girl of woodShe stole a sailor boy From his slumber one morn He woke in the folds of her cloak And his hammock was swaying As he was reborn And his eyes that started out tender and brown Slowly turned blue as he turned from solid ground. And she said time won't stop Or still these hands Until the sea Has won its fight with the land Until the sea Has won its fight with the land. Freedom from crying A small price to pay As he prays every night by the mast For fair winds and trade The blade of affliction To stay itself far from his task Now he moves like a man hypnotised Loneliness burns like the salt That covers his eyes. His faith was a mountain But so is the sea When it's wounded and angry and sore With her thin wooden sides She strove to protect but Her canvas was ragged and torn But between the sun and the wind and the stars They charmed the waters And put the strength back in his arms. The Finest Nails (Paddy Burgin)The finest nails you ever could findWouldn't hold this house together The brightest paint that You ever did see Wouldn't hide the tear It's just the vines and the creepers And the bottles of wine Keeping out the weather But the cracks in these old wooden walls Are too big Even for the finest nails. The fastest pony that you ever could ride Wouldn't cross this creek of difference The highest dam that's know to man Won't stop this river's roam There's a cold dark hand creeps across the land Taking points of difference And your pony shoes are no good to you now Even with the finest nails. The finest words that your money could buy You put them all on paper Yet the grass that grows by the side of the road Is where I lay my head There's a box that is open and Can never be closed Not even by its maker And we sleep to the sound of the Hands pulling down On the finest nails. Daughter of Henry (Paddy Burgin)Her name it was AnneOnly daughter of Henry And every day I would live for her smile In a faraway land through pastures of plenty We walked together For a short time. She said my old rifle Wouldn't hurt nothing Yet it was her county I'd come to defend And her father's harvest was short of some labour I'd be better off helping Bring food to the land. Under grey northern skies We laughed like children And green was the colour Of the innocents' gown And yellow the sheaves we stacked In the long twilight And dappled the mare That hauled us to town. While big metal birds Went thundering over Love gave us wings of A different kind And light were my toes in the fields And on the floor Where we danced to leave everything Outside behind. Then came the morning That we woke to silence As peace like a blanket fell over the land And much as I'd wanted An end to the battle I knew then this ring Would not find her hand. For confined to quarters Before our departure My dilemma made no dent in the captain's resolve And as over ribbons and flowers We went marching My feet were as heavy as old river stones. New Lino (Paddy Burgin)Missing the way he didn't comb his hairMissing the scrape of the kitchen chair She tied his boots in a very neat bow Another hole in the new lino. Staring at a picture of the Benmore dam Taken in 1962 She remembers how she gave her vote to the man Who said he'd bring the power to you Soup spoons lying on the new tabletop So busy in the white and green Now he's eating her out of the house At seventeen. When he gets home on his dinner break Sharp at a quarter to one She'll hear that old black radio Playing the House of the Rising Sun She didn't blame him for lowing interest All he wanted was a new guitar And a ticket to the city To play his songs in a bar. At least he got further than the ducks on the wall A present from his drive-in dad Last seen following his dream of drinking The very last beer in the land Note lies open on the new table top Soup simmering on the stove Now she's making his bed And plugging in his old radio Cos he's missing the way he didn't comb his hair Missing the scrape of the kitchen chair She tied his boots in a very neat bow He got his job back in the front row She heard his song on the radio Another hole in the new lino.
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