Today we will start posting our first lyrics. The main purpose of Forge is give space for thoughtful response to song. For those hoping to make it to the next Forge workshop (Jan 9), save your comments to make them in person. Others, feel free to leave comments on the blog. Songwriters like vague compliments to stroke their egos, but more so is this space for specific comments that thoughtfully engage the material so that songwriters can improve their craft.
The songs below are my own. We will try to avoid introductions to the songs so that the songs can speak for themselves. Listen to them here www.myspace.com/thomaswilsonfolksongs (you will need scroll down)
Hamilton Mulch
1.The downtown stinks, heard that before?
Through broken windows and open doors
We called the core Victorian rot
But hey that’s the best stuff for the flower pot
You gotta see hope when you see decay,
and don’t throw that compost away.
What’ll happen to that brick, that escarpment clay?
Dust to dust and we waste away.
Now, I ain’t saying that rot don’t stink?
Got fumes that make your aching stomach sink,
But there’s a holy steam, there in decay
A deep musty smell, that breathes in the clay
So open up your nostril open up your eyes.
2. There’s rich loamy soil in them brown fields
So mix your paints and spin your wheels
For those who think there’s no hope in art
Walk down James Street North, yes that’s a start.
Read on James of the trials of love
How the rich flower falls to the sun above
John’s revelation got rivers of rust
But there’s new earth below for this city street dust.
Now I ain’t saying that dust ain’t dry.
Blow off the streets bringing tears to your eye.
But there’s a holy wind, blowing the debris
A deep musty smell, of rain on the breeze
So open up your nostril, open up your eyes.
3. Broken windows are for open eyes
They give you a chance to look inside
And spray paint reveals that primitive lust
To turn rock into art by spitting out dust.
Old King William’s dead and gone,
Queen Victoria watches on.
Who was the artist that cast that clay?
It’s a piece of shit, but it’s here to stay.
Now, I ain’t saying that shit don’t stink
But there’s good things that manure can bring
There’s a holy spirit, there in decay
A deep musty smell, that breathes in the clay,
So open up your nostril open up your eyes.
Juniper Brine
1.There’s nothing like that fresh winter air
It numbs you beyond thought, beyond care
But that pure white snow can easily be blackened
By the fire of those back forty nights
We thought that it was giving us light
But when turned away, our path was completely darkened
Chorus:
How can recount how wicked we were
Without seducing you romantically into th’ Jack Pines and th’ Firs
The warm loneliness of a so-called friend,
Yes, that Godawful taste of – Juniper Brine
2. We could procure finer liquor most easily
From the Liquor Commission most legally
But secretly we were wishing that Prohibition had never ended
‘Cause there’s nothing like a Juniper Brine
To make a man lose his lunch, like he’s losing his mind
And the vile wretched flavour was why we completely adore it
Bridge:
Mixing half a cup of moonlight, half a pint of smoke
Fresh diamond snow, burnt off elder branch and oak
The cheapest fucking vodka, in a campfire pot
sprigs of white pine and of juniper – drink it while it’s hot
3.Dicky Jane was my rival at getting more gone
She was two sheet to the wind, Fred and the rest cheerin’ her on
But she could not out drink me, taking it cold on the sly not to chance it
But could this lead to murder, lead to betrayal?
Me and Maria passed out, somewhere off the trail
And when it came to searching our friends decided against it
4. I woke under a dusty ash of snow
Maria’s eyes were glazed in the moonlight glow
Under five thousand stars and into five thousand shadows, she started puking
I did not move, I pretended I was frozen
Until a frost-bite hell-fire into my bones was a-blazing
And I forgot who I was and accidentally helped Maria put her toque on
5. She said that she loved me but I knew it was a lie
It was only because she thought she would die
And she had no other God or devil to pray to
But then shadows started walking, hell hounds from the deep
I thought I saw the grim reaper, looking for something to reap
Or was it only shadows looking for something real to cling to
6. When I got Maria home, I saw that she really cared
So much less about dying that the puke in her hair
And I realized I could be six times as smashed, and never avoid being heartbroken
Then again, back on trail, the gang laughing and talking
Maria walked through the puke, it did not stick to her stocking
I tried to be speak – out came ashes – it had been six years since I’d frozen
Hamilton Mulch
1.The downtown stinks, heard that before?
Through broken windows and open doors
We called the core Victorian rot
But hey that’s the best stuff for the flower pot
You gotta see hope when you see decay,
and don’t throw that compost away.
What’ll happen to that brick, that escarpment clay?
Dust to dust and we waste away.
Now, I ain’t saying that rot don’t stink?
Got fumes that make your aching stomach sink,
But there’s a holy steam, there in decay
A deep musty smell, that breathes in the clay
So open up your nostril open up your eyes.
2. There’s rich loamy soil in them brown fields
So mix your paints and spin your wheels
For those who think there’s no hope in art
Walk down James Street North, yes that’s a start.
Read on James of the trials of love
How the rich flower falls to the sun above
John’s revelation got rivers of rust
But there’s new earth below for this city street dust.
Now I ain’t saying that dust ain’t dry.
Blow off the streets bringing tears to your eye.
But there’s a holy wind, blowing the debris
A deep musty smell, of rain on the breeze
So open up your nostril, open up your eyes.
3. Broken windows are for open eyes
They give you a chance to look inside
And spray paint reveals that primitive lust
To turn rock into art by spitting out dust.
Old King William’s dead and gone,
Queen Victoria watches on.
Who was the artist that cast that clay?
It’s a piece of shit, but it’s here to stay.
Now, I ain’t saying that shit don’t stink
But there’s good things that manure can bring
There’s a holy spirit, there in decay
A deep musty smell, that breathes in the clay,
So open up your nostril open up your eyes.
Juniper Brine
1.There’s nothing like that fresh winter air
It numbs you beyond thought, beyond care
But that pure white snow can easily be blackened
By the fire of those back forty nights
We thought that it was giving us light
But when turned away, our path was completely darkened
Chorus:
How can recount how wicked we were
Without seducing you romantically into th’ Jack Pines and th’ Firs
The warm loneliness of a so-called friend,
Yes, that Godawful taste of – Juniper Brine
2. We could procure finer liquor most easily
From the Liquor Commission most legally
But secretly we were wishing that Prohibition had never ended
‘Cause there’s nothing like a Juniper Brine
To make a man lose his lunch, like he’s losing his mind
And the vile wretched flavour was why we completely adore it
Bridge:
Mixing half a cup of moonlight, half a pint of smoke
Fresh diamond snow, burnt off elder branch and oak
The cheapest fucking vodka, in a campfire pot
sprigs of white pine and of juniper – drink it while it’s hot
3.Dicky Jane was my rival at getting more gone
She was two sheet to the wind, Fred and the rest cheerin’ her on
But she could not out drink me, taking it cold on the sly not to chance it
But could this lead to murder, lead to betrayal?
Me and Maria passed out, somewhere off the trail
And when it came to searching our friends decided against it
4. I woke under a dusty ash of snow
Maria’s eyes were glazed in the moonlight glow
Under five thousand stars and into five thousand shadows, she started puking
I did not move, I pretended I was frozen
Until a frost-bite hell-fire into my bones was a-blazing
And I forgot who I was and accidentally helped Maria put her toque on
5. She said that she loved me but I knew it was a lie
It was only because she thought she would die
And she had no other God or devil to pray to
But then shadows started walking, hell hounds from the deep
I thought I saw the grim reaper, looking for something to reap
Or was it only shadows looking for something real to cling to
6. When I got Maria home, I saw that she really cared
So much less about dying that the puke in her hair
And I realized I could be six times as smashed, and never avoid being heartbroken
Then again, back on trail, the gang laughing and talking
Maria walked through the puke, it did not stick to her stocking
I tried to be speak – out came ashes – it had been six years since I’d frozen
1 comment:
Tom,
I can't wait to hear the Downtown song. I really like the lyrics. You should send it in to "H" magazine, I bet you they would print it.
The only thing missing is a refrence to Barton, but that is just my bias.
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