Well they’re sinking mines deeper now,
The price is getting steeper
Say the men from the big towns with the shillings.
And my work is hard, I can’t deny,
But this is where the money lies.
Investment in the tin mines, I’d be willing
To go underground.

On setting day there’s men in line,
Praying for the right to mine
The pitches that the captain sees as worthy.
The papers talk of profits made
From shares within the mining trade,
With pennies pittance up in what they’ll pay me
To go underground.

Chorus
Digging it underground,
I work for my day,
I take home my pay,
And I think I can say that there’s no better way,
Than underground.

There’s twenty ladies 'bout this town,
Struggling on half a crown
To clothe and feed the mouths of fifty children,
Whose daddies working down the pits,
Where dynamite and candlesticks
Tore a-twix the bodies of the workmen,
     Underground.

Chorus

There is a girl about this place,
With bonnie eyes and a bonnie face
And as sure as time’ll pass I think we’ll wed.
But she says it fears her heart to know
I’m digging underground below
Atlantic waves a-rolling overhead,
When you’re underground.

Chorus

And when my working day is done
My face is first to taste the sun
As I race the lads at ladders to the grass.
A golden land America
Lies over and beyond the sea,
But mine’s the life I choose for me and my bonnie Cornish lass,
     Underground.

Chorus

© Rustic Thorn Records 2000

A wealthy young squire in Yarmouth did dwell,
He courted a nobleman’s daughter so well,
This bonnie lassie on roaming was bent,
But to make her his bride was the squire’s intent.

The day was appointed the wedding to be,
The farmer was asked for to give her away,
But as soon as the lady the farmer did spy,
"You have gone to me heart," the lady did cry.

O’er bushes and briers she tripped as she sped,
Till a comical fancy came into her head,
Her waistcoat and breeches she then did put on,
And away she went hunting with dog, cane and gun.

She hunted around where the farmer did dwell,
She hunted around for she loved him so well,
She oftentimes fired but nothing she killed,
Till at length the young farmer came into the field.

And for to discourse him it was her intent,
With dog, cane and gun for to meet him she went,
"I thought you’d a-been at the wedding," she cried,
"To wait on the squire, to give him his bride."

"I cannot be false - the truth I must say -
I liked her too much than to give her away."

So the lady well pleased for to hear him so bold,
She gave him her glove that was fiery with gold,
She gave him her glove, that she’d chanced upon,
Whilst she was out hunting with dog, cane and gun.

So the lady’s turned home with her heart full of love,
And she’s thrown out her speeches as she’d lost her glove,
"The man that do find it and brings it to me,
Before the moon rises his bride I will be."

So the farmer well pleased upon hearing the news,
Straight way to the lady he tripped with her glove,
Crying: "Oh Honoured lady, I’ve brought you your glove,
If you’ll be so well pleased as to grant me your love."

"My love’s ready granted," the lady replied,
"I love the sweet breath of the farmer," she cried,
"And I’ll be your missus, go milking my cow,
And you’ll be the farmer, go whistling the plough."

© Rustic Thorn Records 2000

Johnny boy’s a midnight stalker,
Through the trees and o'er the water,
Up the bank and to the quarter,
Where the Lords and Ladies dance.
Stalk him down in shady hollow,
Till he spy a deer to follow,
He’ll be hanged for it on the morrow,
If his luck he were to chance.

Gan!  from the morning sun,
Fox and vixen homeward run,
Gan!  from the morning dew,
Till nacht time starts anew.

And while day sleeps, my wild love creeps,
Alone!  she’ll dance till dawn.

Glee mit dice and dance,
Queen by evening, wild by chance,
Gan yon pixie!  Fly!
'fore daylight come here by!

Pine wolf dwell, the fable tell,
Im mountain forest, dark.
Und come he round, the night time sound
With curling of his bark.

Gan!  from the morning sun,
Fox and vixen homeward run,
Gan!  from the morning dew,
Till nacht time starts anew.

© Rustic Thorn Records 2001

"Hark!  The drums do beat my love, and I must haste away,
The bugles sweetly sound, no longer can I stay,
We are called to Harwich love, our mission to advance
Across the sea from England to the furrowed fields of France."

"Oh Willy, dearest Willy, don’t leave me here to mourn,
Don’t leave me here to curse the day that I was born,
For here inside your wedded wife your only child does sleep,
For life without his father his salted tears he’ll weep."

"Dress yourself in man’s array and come along with me,
And I will tend and care for you all on the dreary sea,
A family there will hide you safe and when the war is done,
If fortune hath preserved my life, I’ll meet you and my son."

"Oh Willy, dearest Willy, this can never be.
My constitution is too weak to sail across the sea.
No family in a foreign land would hide us in our flight
And death will be the consequence for your wife and child alike.

"Oh stay at home in England love, your services decline,
‘Tis hell to spill your precious blood for another man’s campaign."
"Oh Molly dear I’m bound by oath to cross the broad expanse
Of sea and soil to serve my King on the bloody fields of France."

"Oh cursed, cursed be the day that ever was began,
They freely tempt the honest hearts of many a simple man,
The protectors of these English isles are eager for the chance
To feed their bodies to the worms on the cursed fields of France."

© Rustic Thorn Records 1999

What is this knocking at my door?
An unsuspicious smile I’ve seen a thousand times
Before me there’s a coat of leather
And it’s buttoned up with credit cards
And in his pocket’s a diploma from the school of backwards talking
And a perfect lie.

The lights are dimmed, she’s laying back in her chair,
An actress by blood (or by bed)
She flicks, convincingly, with the same piece of roller-curled hair
                ...just to the left of her forehead.
"A director says he likes my face,
 And I’m going to be a superstar in Hollywood
                 …or some other place - nearby."
It seems that she’s been given,
It seems that she’s been taking
A perfect lie.

Step up here - it only takes a while
Until the next role model’s here,
Come actress, come catwalk, come politician, come clean
            Clean cut - cut throat style
Elementary magazine articles and a free pink lipstick
Create this identity of mine,
It seems that I’ve been giving,
It seems that I’ve been painting
A perfect lie.

© Rustic Thorn Records 1999

Familiar writing on a note through my door
    Carried me a memory from seven years before,
Of a house, in a village, where I loved to be,
    Where I knew most of the people and they all knew me.
Safe, with a fire and a church and a field,
Where I’d walk between the cows and the rabbits and the sheep,
You could walk between the horses up the white lines on your street.

Running through each season, spinning through each day,
    Skidding backwards through each winter on sacks filled with hay.
With the boy from The Green is where I first found love,
    In a can of stolen cider from his parents’ pub.
Teenage fascination in the arms of a girl,
Your crooked front teeth and the curl of your hair,
 I called your number, is love still there?

Chorus
I think I prefer the way things were,
I keep them in my past, it helps things last,
To see you now would change it all somehow,
I think it all might crumble down soon,
I think it all might crumble down soon.

In a bar near Euston you arrived in your suit,
    With your briefcase and your brolly and your shined-up shoes,
    (And some new way of talking that’s just so not you!)
You said, "Life in the city’s like a day that cannot end,
And the more I seem to earn, the more I need to spend,
Do you remember my brother? Now he’s got a wife,
And a baby and a garden and no life of his own,
It sounds like hell, but it beats a life alone."

Chorus

"That time on The Green was the first I’d ever kissed,
    And when you left I couldn’t move, like a coward in the mist,
Now the sheep’s left the meadow and the cow’s gone away,
    But my memories of that evening are always here to stay.
Today could be the start of all the fun we’ve still to share…"
And the pleading in your eyes - I couldn’t bear to turn and go,
But our memories of The Green days are all we’ll ever know…

Chorus

© Rustic Thorn Records 2000

Start collecting teapots, tortoises and tins,
Start collecting houses to stack the rubbish in,
Some people have a theory that it’s better to give,
But my treasure’s for my pleasure - that’s my prerogative,
Treasure’s for my pleasure - that’s my prerogative.

Chorus
Stacking up shelves,
Stacking up walls,
Cushioning the landing when pride falls.
(Repeat)

Start collecting early, with youth on your side,
Meat on the market is a feast for the eye,
Take a look at who’s on offer but I never look close,
Provided it’s a girl for the collection on my bedpost.

Chorus

A little piece of me remains when I die,
A pile of pretty things for you to think of me by,
Take it to the market, maybe raffle it,
Clutter for another or fodder for the tip,
Clutter for another or fodder for the tip.

Chorus

St Peter’s at the gate on judgement day,
With a record of your deeds and the words that you say,
You may count your blessings for the things you’ve got,
But he doesn’t give a fig for the collector’s lot.

Chorus
 
© Rustic Thorn Records 2001

"Is it true that the birds build their nests in the trees
To be near to Grandma and Jesus?
I’ll climb up the tree in my garden
To look down in the way that they’d see us."
So he climbed and looked down on a railway,
And above him some windows and roofs,
And the red-pinky sign of a sunset,
But nothing that offered much proof.

Chorus
2000 years isn’t a long way,
2000 miles isn’t that far,
To fly into space to see the Man’s face
I’ll believe
When I see the Man’s face I’ll believe.

"Now I’ve heard that the ocean holds places
Where colours run many a mile,
And I swear that I’ll travel all spaces
Beyond this grey English isle."
So he searched all his world as the years hurried by,
Over desert and ocean and peak,
And he danced with the day,
And he laughed with the night,
Without sign of the One that he seeks.

Chorus

The earth proved as empty for searching,
He turned his eyes up to the night,
Where the air breathes as thin as a whisper,
And falling is balanced by light.
"And I’ll probably meet with the maker
They say paved the way for this land,
And I’ll know the truth when I see the proof
In the eyes of the One who made man."

Chorus

And he’s flown all the day till at 2000 miles
He faces just more of the black,
Without sign of the One he has sought all his life,
He feels it is time to turn back…
But at 2000 miles he looked down on the earth,
With no hand to hold it or turning the sphere,
To see his whole world as the head of a pin,
Banished thoughts of a chance engineer.

Chorus

Now he looks on the red-pinky sunset
From the tree in his garden, he’s found
That marvel in balance and beauty
Is easily found with two feet on the ground.

© Rustic Thorn Records 2001