Testo First Love - Ivor Cutler
Testo della canzone First Love (Ivor Cutler), tratta dall'album The Collection 1959-1961
The South Country
When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind
I light my lamp in the evening
My work is left behind
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind
The great hills of the South Country
They stand along the sea
And it's there, walking in the high woods
That I could wish to be
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Walking along with me
The men that live in North England
I saw them for a day
Their hearts are set upon the waste fells
Their skies are fast and grey
From their castle walls a man may see
The mountains far away
The men that live in West England
They see the Severn strong
A-rolling on rough water brown
Like aspen leaves along
They have the secret of the rocks
And the oldest kind of song
But the men that live in the South Country
Are the kindest and most wise
They get their laughter from the loud surf
And the faith in their happy eyes
Comes surely from our sister the Spring
When over the sea she flies
The violets suddenly bloom at her feet
She blesses us with surprise
I never get between the pines
But I smell the Sussex air
Nor I never come on a belt of sand
But my home is there
And along the sky the line of the downs
So noble and so bare
A lost thing could I never find
Nor a broken thing mend
And I fear I shall be all alone
When I get towards the end
Who will there be to comfort me
Or who will be my friend?
I will gather and carefully make my friends
Of the men of the Sussex Weald
They watch the stars from silent folds
They stiffly plough the field
By them and the God of the South Country
My poor soul shall be healed
If I ever become a rich man
Or if ever I grow to be old
I will build a house with deep thatch
To shelter me from the cold
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told
I will hold my house in the high wood
Within a walk of the sea
And the men that were boys when I was a boy
Shall sit and drink with me
Duncton Hill
He does not die that can bequeethe
Some influence to the land he knows
Or dares, persistent, interwreathe
Love permanent with the wild hedgerows
He does not die, but still remains
Substantiate with his darling plains
The spring's superb adventure calls
His dust athwart the woods to flame
His boundary river's secret falls
Perpetuate and repeat his name
He rides his loud October sky
He does not die, he does not die
The beeches know the accustomed head
Which loved them, and a peopled air
Beneath their benediction spread
Comforts the silence everywhere
For native ghosts return, and these
Perfect the mystery in the trees
So, therefore, though myself be crossed
The shuddering of that dreadful day
When friend and fire and home are lost
And even children drawn away
The passer-by shall hear me still
A boy that sings on Duncton Hill
Hanacher Mill
Sally is gone that was so kindly
Sally is gone from Hanacher Hill
And the briar grows ever since then
So blindly
And ever since then the clapper is still
And the sweeps have fallen from Hanacher Mill
Hanacher Hill is in desolation
Ruin atop and a field unploughed
And spirits that call on a fallen nation
Spirits that loved her, calling aloud
Spirits abroad in a windy cloud
Spirits that call and no one answers
Hanacher's down and England's done
Wind and thistle for pipe and dancers
And never a ploughman under the sun
Never a ploughman, never a one
My Own Country
I shall go without companions
And with nothing in my hand
I shall pass through many places
That I cannot understand
Until I come to my own country
Which is a pleasant land
The trees that grow in my own country
Are the beech tree and the yew
Many stand together, and some stand few
In the month of May, in my own country
All the woods are new
When I get to my own country
I shall lie down and sleep
I shall watch in the valleys
The long flocks of sheep
And then I shall dream for ever and all
A good dream and deep
Credits
Writer(s): Ivor Cutler
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