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Moorscape - Album

by John Reed

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1.
THE DROVERS' TRAIL Woken to a frosted dawn Mist in the valley then the mist is gone Swirling dust and baking sun Tightened skin as the day is done Seems so near. Seems so near. Still down the trail With the wind and the hail Moment’s rest in a tree’s embrace Clattering hooves through a broken gate Tired of mind. Tired of limb Pray to the Lord then curse on Him Seems so near. Seems so near. Still down the trail With the wind and the hail Sun sets low and rain sets in Heather moor, the howling wind, Blanket with a purple hue Autumn greets the winter’s cue Seems so near. Seems so near. Still down the trail With the wind and the hail Past the cairn at the crown of the hill The final stretch. The final thrill Speeding up and heading down Stock to the market, bless this town Seems so near. Seems so near. Still down the trail With the wind and the hail Way down the trail
2.
WATERGROVE FARM The world beneath is not seen now Where cattle grazed and farmers ploughed, The sweat and the labour of the weaving mills The Church and the Orchard at the foot of the hills These days it takes a drought to see The lives once lived, the deserted streets And the ghosts of workers, arm in arm As they made for the fields at Watergrove Farm “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” Was the last rendition by the Wesleyans Two hundred villagers were sent abroad As the sluice gates opened for the valley to flood The rising warm air from the coast Darkens rainclouds from the west That hurl their venom on the higher peaks To gather in gullies, channels and creeks And Higher Slack and Wardle streams Pool their force for the water wheels And to feed the land as the village sleeps And cut their valleys deep And Ramsden Road And Bowers Row Sheltered and sunk Beneath the overflow “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” Was the last rendition by the Wesleyans Two hundred villagers were sent abroad As the sluice gates opened for the valley to flood Mirror clouds on waters still The sluices metering the spill The pumping station hums its tune Till sunset and the rising moon These days it takes a drought to see The lives once lived, the deserted streets And the ghosts of workers, arm in arm As they made for the fields at Watergrove Farm “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” Was the last rendition by the Wesleyans Two hundred villagers were sent abroad And the sluice gates opened for the valley to flood
3.
The Cart 03:03
THE CART Heard across the valley, Echoes through the town The rattle of his wheel rims Drown the belfry down Old grey mare with iron shoes Blinkered in her view Sixteen hands in quiet cruise With her mullen bit to chew Beside the brook and through the dell Down the scarp, and up the hill Through the ford and swollen ghyll To take his load up to the mill Crushing weight on every spoke From heavy blocks of stone Held by rein and wooden brake As the grey mare drives along Beside the brook and through the dell Down the scarp, and up the hill Through the ford and swollen ghyll To take his load up to the mill INSTRUMENTAL Beside the brook and through the dell Down the scarp, and up the hill Through the ford and swollen ghyll To take his load up to the mill
4.
STANDING STONES Standing tall in winter’s chill On the track from hill to hill Breaking through the silent snow Ever present, ever still Softened by the rains of spring Sentries’ stand for man and king Watching over all we do Everyone and everything Beyond the Stones That cast their shadows long Where the sun may guide us On a path that we may roam Beyond the standing stones Summer days and summer haze Life goes on beneath their gaze A timeless store of memories Secure within their frames Beyond the Stones That cast their shadows long Where the sun may guide us On a path that we may roam Beyond the standing stones Towering the Autumn leaves Sheltering heathers from the breeze A brace between the land and sky Marking time of centuries Beyond the Stones That cast their shadows long Where the sun may guide us On a path that we may roam Beyond the standing stones
5.
Peat 03:19
PEAT The peaks and hollows of the blanket bog Stratified above the High Peak rock A source of fuel, a source of warmth A source of solace, dusk to dawn Those without a turbary Risked ‘offence against the vert’ Those who paid for cutting rights Found sunshine in the dirt. But a century and fifty one Of smog that churned from chimney stacks In Northern towns of blackened stone Choking under acrid fumes That carried on the open breeze, To fall as sulphurous rain That bled into the blanket bogs As it settled on the high terrain. What is seen is understood Is there for all to view To feast their eyes and feed their ears To bless their very souls But what of eyes that fail to see Of ears that fail to hear What of hands that fail to touch And the voice that fails to tell? And so the scene seems not to change Yet the land is starved of breath As ecosystems run to fail As soil breaks down and water fouls, The fight for life intensifies With every shower of rain, And the suffering that lies beneath Is out of sight and out of mind Chorus
6.
Clouds 03:28
CLOUDS A place for sadness A place for anxiety A place for fear A place for grief Under a black sky A place for great A place for small A place for nothing A place for all Under a grey sky A place for angels A place for peace A place for spirit A place for release Under a white sky A place for colour A place for light A place for day A place for night Under a pale sky A place for calm A place for truth A place for me A place for you Under a Blue Sky
7.
Intermission 01:22
Instrumental © Lyrics and music to all songs copyright John Reed 2016. All Rights Reserved All recordings © and ℗ ND4PRM 2016
8.
Guns 02:56
GUNS On a barren moor In the wilderness Where rolling land Greets its guests Men from cities, men from afar Barbour coats and 4x4s With their big guns With their big guns Marlborough made Eton broke Stalking caps Beating coats Glorious Twelfth, on a shooting stick Bag a brace or two for the sport of the rich With their big guns With their big guns We won’t walk In peace again On Otterburn Moor Or Salisbury Plain Red flags fly, and sirens sound Serving up fodder for foreign lands With their big guns With their big guns
9.
The Denied 04:21
THE DENIED The wild wind blows where trees once grew Swooping down across the land Dry stone boundaries divide and rule For the ruin of many, and the benefit of few War and commerce, need and greed Food to grow and mouths to feed Swathes of inhospitable earth Turned to pasture for what its worth Walls and dykes and pales plough through Lynchetts, narrow rig and furrow Trees cleared, saplings chewed, Grazing stock on land accrued. A right of way, a right of man The right to graze on common land A way of life that’s now passed on From penniless man to penniless son A legacy of bitterness Of community divide Of those who have, and those who strive And those who’ve been denied The poor and landless, marginalized Driven from villages, stigmatised Survive on waste and border land To make a life, to fall or stand Common fields erased by law Assart strips beside the moor A piecemeal patchwork on the edge Its yield to fail, there left to beg Factory workers built their homes Cottages of rocks and stones After a day of labour in the cotton mill To till the soil as the shadows turn A right of way, a right of man The right to graze on common land A way of life that’s now passed on From penniless man to penniless son A legacy of bitterness Of community divide Of those who have, and those who strive And those who’ve been denied And those who’ve been denied
10.
Blizzard 04:02
BLIZZARD Dark, oppressive, loaded skies Life, goes to ground and hides Quiet, before the howling winds Shape, and batter everything Trees, bent in violent twist Stripped, of bark and torn of twigs Branches, beckon to their lee Fixed, through the shallow scree Snow, with flakes the size of hands Speed, on past in desperate flight Gales, whistle, howl and moan Stumps, of trees and walls of stone Man, and livestock battle on Ghosts, against a troubled sky Seeking, refuge clinging on One, side white and one side dry Tracks, erased by deepening drifts Shelter, in a distant hollow Muted, sound from walls of snow Drenched, with several miles to go
11.
Moorscape 07:25
MOORSCAPE Beyond the valley, beyond the fell Sights to see but not to speak of…now Beneath the clouds, beneath the sky Sights to see but not to speak of…now Shaped by folds of rock and time Constant martyr to mankind Now it’s for us to decide Where its future lies Fires burn, buzzards fly Sights to see but not to speak of…now Bitter cold, bracing wind Sights to see but not to speak of…now Shaped by folds of rock and time Constant martyr to mankind Now it’s for us to decide Where its future lies Distant storm clouds gathering Sights to see but not to speak of…now Weather systems whistle in Sights to see but not to speak of…now Shaped by folds of rock and time Constant martyr to mankind Now it’s for us to decide Where its future lies
12.
DIM BLUE LIGHT On a cold bleak day in a moorland gale The maidservant ran to fetch the pail The mistress of the house had sent the maid for the water But the maid she was weak, and like a lamb to the slaughter She dutifully made in the rain for the well For a minute or an hour, the tale doesn’t tell But for as long as the patience of the mistress on the day Nobody knew. Nobody dared say. The beating that came was dispatched without caution And left the maid’s body in twist and contortion A short time passed and the little maid died Of murderous intent the mistress denied See the dim blue light In the cold of the night At the foot of the rise Where the maidservant she lies She insisted she proved her innocence by ordeal And was led towards the body to touch and to feel Any blood from the wounds would indicate her guilt And the gallows would beckon or the sword would be felt As the mistress approached she begged water to drink It was given by the hand of a conspirator we think The giving of the water cancelled out the superstition And the murderess was freed under a cloud of suspicion See the dim blue light In the cold of the night At the foot of the rise Where the maidservant she lies The only recourse that the judge could entreat Was for the maid’s restless spirit to visit every night To trouble the mistress and prevent her from sleeping To deliver the punishment in spite of her weeping Deprived of her sleep and in an act of desperation The mistress had a clergyman perform an exorcism The little maid’s spirit was finally set to flight And now appears on the hill as a dim blue light See the dim blue light In the cold of the night At the foot of the rise Where the maidservant she lies
13.
Night 02:59
NIGHT The hillside shades the setting sun Fiery dance ignites the sky Till shadow light and harvest moon Twilight in the darkened room. Silence fractured by a breeze, Endless rippling of a stream, Firewood crackling in the fire A distant owl, an eerie cry. A cockerel calls the breaking day And waking larks rise through the grey Weary bones and tired eyes Back to work. It’s time to rise.
14.
THE FARTHEST POINT Sitting on the weathered stones Cold and damp, chilled to the bone Watching as a falcon flies Distant in the sky There won’t be any shelter here On the moor throughout the year Turning back or moving on Seems better than to stay So lay down, Lay down and calm your soul Slip away For your story to be told Sweetest dreams inside your head A fire, a wash, a well-made bed A change of clothes, a place of peace Far from where you lie The hours pass, you try to stand A willing mind but your body’s done Rising up to tumble down To your final resting place So lay down, Lay down and calm your soul Slip away For your story to be told Hours go by through blackened skies The morning greets a passer by Who lays your bones across his gig To carry you back, where you lived Tears of sadness, tears run dry Your body lies, your spirit flies For younger folk to take the reins, The toil, the sweat, the pain So lay down, Lay down and calm your soul Slip away For your story to be told
15.
RESTING PLACE You will find my heart under a rock by a stile You will find my spirit on the breeze You will find my will on the brow of a hill And you will find my love among the trees We would meet at the kissing gates In the shadow of the hill I'd be gone for a month or two So there we stood, silent, still And I'd think of you along the track Once on my way I daren't look back To the place where I'd far rather be With you in hand, beneath the tree You will find my heart under a rock by a stile You will find my spirit on the breeze You will find my will on the brow of a hill And you will find my love among the trees And one day it could come to pass That this hard life will breathe its last But what we have will always be From hill to valley, river to sea You will find my heart under a rock by a stile You will find my spirit on the breeze You will find my will on the brow of a hill And you will find my love among the trees You will find my love among the trees

about

Moorscape evokes the atmosphere, imagery, sounds, social and political history of Britain’s moorlands. The British moorlands were once largely forest, and have seen massive change over the last few hundred years. Their current shape comes from the enclosure of land by the monasteries in the Middle Ages, and from the 18th Century onwards, when landless labourers were forced to live on the margins of private estates where land was poor and food was short. 4,000 enclosure acts were passed that converted land out of common ownership into the exclusive private property of the landed gentry.

The parallels with society in today’s Britain are evident: the poor being marginalised and made to pay for the lifestyles of a small minority of extremely wealthy people. If there is hope in Moorscape™, it comes from the fact that life runs in a series of cycles, and that people of all races, creeds, abilities and income brackets experience nature, love, and the joy of living, as well as the hardships and sadnesses that seem to come with the territory. And that a better cycle will one day return.

credits

released April 4, 2016

JOHN REED: Cittern and Vocals, 6 & 12 String Acoustic Guitars
KIERAN HEANEY: Electric Guitar, Bass Guitar
RAJENDRA JADEJA: Tabla
HEYGAMAL: Production
EMMA PERRY: Additional Vocals

© Lyrics and music to all songs copyright John Reed 2016. All Rights Reserved

'The Moorscape Tree' photograph by John Reed © John Reed 2016

All recordings © and ℗ ND4PRM 2016

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about

John Reed Berwick Upon Tweed, UK

John is a Blackpool born singer-songwriter and radio show host whose songs cover themes of social injustice, environment, politics, love, & life

Music is never more important than in difficult times. Therefore, all downloads on this site are provided on a "Pay What You Can Afford" (PWYCA) basis. Merchandise is available at the prices stated.

John is also 1/3 of nightsong.bandcamp.com
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