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| CBS 63837 1970 |
to hear a sample track from the album
Ceilia Humpris (vocals, keyboards)
Bias Boshell (bass & acoustic guitars, some backing vocals),
Barry Clarke (lead & acoustic guitars),
David Costa (acousitic and 12-string guitars)
Unwin Brown (drums).
Lady Margaret
Lady Margaret sitting in her own lone home,
Alone, O all alone,
When she thought she heard a dismal cry,
She
heard a deadly moan.
"Is it my father Thomas?" she said,
"Or is it my brother John?
Or is it my love, my own dear Willie
Come home
to me again?"
"I am not your father Thomas," he said,
"Nor am I your brother John,
But I am your love, your
own dear Willie,
Come home to you again."
"Then where are the red and rosy cheeks
That even in winter bloom?
And
where is the long and yellow hair
Of the love I lost too soon?"
"The ground have rotten them off, my dear,
For
the worms are quick and free,
And when you're so long lying in your grave,
The same will happen thee."
He took
her by the lily-white hand
And begged her company;
He took her by her apron band,
Says, "Follow, follow me."
She
took her underskirts one by one
And wrapped them above her knee,
And she's over the hills on a winter's night
In
a dead man's company.
They walked, they walked to the old churchyard,
Where the grass grow grassy-green:
"Here's
the home where I live now,
The bed I do lie in."
"Is there any room at your head, my love,
Is there any room
at your feet?
Is there any room about you at all
For me to lie down and sleep?"
"My father is at my head, dear
girl,
My mother is at my feet,
Upon my heart are three hell-hounds
Bound my soul to keep.
One is for my drunkenness
And
another is for my pride,
And one is for promising a pretty fair girl
That she should be my bride."
She took
the cross from all on her bosom
And smoted him on the breast,
"Here's your token I kept so long:
God send you a happy
rest."
"Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, my love,
Farewell, dear girl," said he;
"If ever the dead may pray
for the living,
My love, I'll pray for thee."
The Garden Of Jane Delawney
The poet’s voice lingers on
His words hang in the air
The ground you walk upon
My death will not be there
My
death will not be then
I take you through my dreams
Out into the darkest morning
Past the bloodfilled stream
Into
the garden of Jane Delawney
Into her garden love
Always roses there
Don’t like it as you pass
For a
fire will consume your hair
And your eyes will turn to glass
Your eyes will turn to glass
In the willow’s
shade
Don’t lie to hear it weep
For it’s tears of gold and jade
Will drown you as you sleep
Will drown
you love
Jane Delawney had her dreams
But she never did discover
For the flow that feeds the stream
Is the
lifeblood of her lover
Is the lifeblood of her lover
And the purifying beam
Of the sun does shine her never
While
the spirit of her dream
In the garden lives forever
Lives forever now
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related internet links
a garden lost in time.
Spectacularly set in the
beautiful Tywi valley of
Carmarthenshire,
Aberglasney Gardens have
been an inspiration to poets
since 1477. The story of
Aberglasney spans many
centuries, but, the house's
origins are still shrouded in obscurity.
(1843-1932)
in the UK, Europe and America;
her influence on garden design
has been pervasive to this day.
She spent most of her life in Surrey,
England, latterly at Munstead Wood,
Godalming. She ran a garden centre
there and bred many new plants.
Some of her gardens can be visited.
Illustrations from manuscripts
and early printed books dig into
the story of gardening.
from the collection of the
British Library
Heligan, seat of the Tremayne family
for more than 400 years, is one of the
At the end of the nineteenth century
its thousand acres were at their zenith,
but only a few years later bramble and
ivy were already drawing a green veil over
this "Sleeping Beauty". After decades of
neglect, the devastating hurricane of 1990
should have consigned the gardens to a
footnote in history.now read on and marvel
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