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1.
Oh, 'tis sad in Dooris when the tide is low And the green fields buried 'neath the frost and snow And the dark night's dreary with the curlew's cry And I'm thinkin', thinkin' of the days gone by Oh the happy summers of the olden days And the brown boats stealin' through the golden haze And the cuckoo callin' from the woods within And my love beside me and the tide full in Was I not foolish when I let him go? To seek his fortune where the west winds blow If a fair wind brought him to my achin' heart With my two arms 'round him, we would never part But, a dear, dear letter on my fond heart lies And its words of promise more than life I prize For it whispers, 'Darlin', soon I'll fortune win And return to claim you and the tide full in' Oh the happy summers will come back once more And the brown boats stealin' to the sunset shore And the cuckoo callin' from the woods within And my love beside me and the tide full in
2.
It's fifty long springtimes since she was a bride, But still you may see her at each Whitsuntide In a dress of white linen and ribbons of green, As green as her memories of loving. The feet that were nimble tread carefully now, As gentle a measure as age do allow, Through groves of white blossom, by fields of young corn, Where once she was pledged to her true love. The fields they are empty, the hedges grow free, No young men to tend them, all pastures to seed. They've gone where the forests of oak trees before Had gone to be wasted in battle. Down from their green farmlands and from their loved ones Marched husbands and brothers and fathers and sons. There's a fine roll of honour where the Maypole once stood, And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun. There's a row of straight houses in these latter days Are covering the Downs where the sheep used to graze. There's a field of red poppies, a wreath from the Queen. And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun. And the ladies remember at Whitsun...
3.
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, I hear it in the deep heart's core.
4.
Three Ravens 03:38
There were three ravens sat on a tree, Downe a downe, hay downe, hay downe, They were as blacke, as black could be, With a downe, The one of them said to his mate, Where shall we our breakfast take? With a downe, derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. Downe in yonder greene field, There lies a Knight slain under his shield, His hounds they lie downe at his feete, So well do they their Master keepe. His Hawkes they flie so eagerly, There's no fowle that dare come near he Yonder comes a fallow Doe, As great with yong as she might goe. She's lifted up his bloudy head, And kist his wounds that were so red, She got him up upon her backe, And carried him to earthen lake. She buried him before the prime, She was dead herself ere evensong time. God send every gentleman, Such hawkes, such hounds, and such a Leman.
5.
Of all the money e'er I had I spent it in good company And all the harm that e'er I've done Alas it was to none but me And all I've done for want of wit To mem'ry now I can't recall So fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be to you all If I had money enough to spend And leisure time to sit awhile There is a fair maid in this town I own she has my heart beguiled. Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips I own she has my heart in thrall Then fill to me the parting glass Good night and joy be with you all. Of all the comrades that e'er I had They're sorry for my going away And all the sweethearts that e'er I had They'd wish me one more day to stay But since it falls unto my lot That I should rise and you should not I gently rise and softly call Good night and joy be to you all

about

We want to share all our favourite songs with you as we choose them, so here is our ever-expanding song diary. We hope that a totally unplanned album, one track at a time, recorded in different places & at different times will be charming and not horrendous! Each track is available to download individually for a quid so you can just have the ones you want to listen to over and over!

Maybe when we have lots to choose from we might release another physical album but until then... enjoy!

(NOTE: This was called 'The Wilderness Yet' but seeing as we've chosen this as the name of our new trio with Philippe Barnes, we have decided to change the title to avoid confusion... Check out www.thewildernessyet.com for more info!)

credits

released May 23, 2018

Rosie Hodgson – voice / octave mandola
Rowan Piggott – voice / fiddle / cittern / harmonium

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about

Rosie Hodgson England, UK

Rosie is a folk singer/songwriter from Midhurst, West Sussex. Having grown up surrounded by traditional music, her voice possesses a naturalness and maturity, bringing "a ruby-richness to lyrics new and old". (Folk Radio UK)

Rosie is currently touring with her trio, The Wilderness Yet.
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