The Lyrics - Ye Olde Silent Inn - Part 1

Wycoller Hall

Lyrics, music, guitar and vocals by Beck Siàn

 

Grey... hollow casements

Dark birds fly through

Wet... shattered walls

Of moss and mildew.

 

Sad... cold sky

And lonely, old stone

Damp... chilled air;

Dreams that have flown.

 

Silent are the fragments

Hushed are the leaves

Just the time-shattering cry

Of the rooks in the trees.

 

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012

 

The Black Silk Handkerchief

Based upon 'The Holland Handkerchief' (traditional)

Arranged/altered and adapted by Beck Siàn

Music by Beck Siàn and Steve Palmer

Vocals by Beck Siàn

 

A wealthy squire lived in our town

He was a man of high renown

He had one daughter, a beauty bright

And the name he called her was his Heart's Delight

 

Many young men to court her came

But none of them could her favour gain

Till there came one of the low degree

And above them all she did fancy he

 

But when her father he came to know

That his only daughter loved this young man so

Over fifty miles he sent her away

All to deprive her of her wedding day

 

One night as she lay in her bedroom

Her love appeared from out the gloom

He touched her hand and to her did say,

"Arise my darling and come away".

 

With this young man she got on behind

And they rode swifter than any wind

They rode on for five hours or more

Till he cried, "My darling, my head feels sore!"

 

A black silk handkerchief she then took out

And with it wrapped his aching head about

She kissed his lips and these words did say,

"My love you are colder than any clay".

 

When they arrived at her father's gate

He said, "Get down, love, for the hour is late!

Get down, get down, love, and go to bed

and I'll see this gallant horse is groomed and fed".

 

Then she arrived at her father's hall

"Who's there, who's there now?", her father called.

"'Tis I dear father, you sent for me

and my love was the messenger, was sent by thee".

 

"Oh no my daughter, that can never be

Your words are false and you lie to me

For on yonder mountain your young man died

And in yon green meadow his body lies".

 

The truth then dawned upon this lady brave

And with her friends they exposed the grave

There lay her love though nine months dead

With a black silk handkerchief tied 'round his head.

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012


The Moon on the 13th

Music by Steve Palmer

Lyrics and vocals by Beck Siàn

 

It's moonlit tonight

I can see my way

But I don't know where I'm going

Around a corner

Across the moors

A warm light shines

On dark stone walls

But who's within

& who's without?

& I feel alone

But I know

I'm not alone

There are footsteps behind me

Always 

Footsteps behind me.

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012

 

Ye Olde Silent Inn

Lyrics, music, acoustic guitar and vocals by Beck Siàn.

 

On twisting roads

Through pale green I came

Ever-stretching pale green

And russet bracken

And heather-lined lanes

And the wind moaned as an old man

With arthritic knees

Bones creaking and rustling like leaves

And the wind... wuthers.

 

I enter the inn: it is warm within

Test the windows: check the doors

The locks are fast: the bolts are drawn

But whose little faces stare at me

From between the banisters?

Keep silent

Keep silent

And the wind... wuthers.

 

Rain rattles the window panes

Something glides just out of sight

A storm-whipped night

A storm-whipped night

It's a wicked night for one to be out on the moors

From whence come the bells?

From beneath the gnarled trees?

Or between the wind-blasted tussocks

And skeletal leaves?

And the wind... wuthers.

 

Inside the warm inn,

Long shadows fall

But who's that calling out on the moor?

A moth beats its grey, dusty wings against the glass

And the wind... wuthers.

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012

 

Down in Yon Forest

Traditional. Arranged/altered/adapted by Beck Siàn.

Vocals by Beck Siàn.

 

Down in yon forest there stands a hall

The phantom bells I heard them ring

It's covered all over in purple and pall

And I love my love above anything.

 

In that hall there stands a bed

The phantom bells I heard them ring

It's covered all over in scarlet and red

And I love my love above anything.

 

At the bed's foot there grows a thorn

The phantom bells I heard them ring

It flowers and blossoms at dusk and at dawn

And I love my love above anything.

 

Under that bed there runs a flood

The phantom bells I heard them ring

The half it runs water: the half it runs blood

And I love my love above anything.

 

Over that bed the moon shines bright

The phantom bells I heard them ring

I sense he is here again with me this night

And I love my love above anything.

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012

 

The Dark Stairs

Music by Chris Gill

Lyrics and vocals by Beck Siàn

 

The small flame falters

And I hesitate

Upon dark stairs

Old stairs made of ships' timber

Still groaning on the waves.

Flocked wallpaper dances 

In the shifting light.

A swish of trailing garments

Chilling by

Somewhere a door opens

Slams shut again

Heavy steps creak the boards

A low voice murmurs

Psss-psss-psss

A dark shadow moans past.

(I'm brushing past you now

I'm brushing past you now).

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012

 

The Moors

Music by Chris Gill

Lyrics and vocals by Beck Siàn.

 

Sensuous wind, foxy wind, you whip the sad skin from my face

Battered by you, my careworn soul sings, O mistress of this spirit place.

 

Toes in heather on the lonely moor, there's a hole in my heart and the wind moans through

Looking out on the lonely moor, there's a hole in my heart and the wind moans through

 

I am as wind-torn as that ravaged hawthorn

Yes, I am as wind-torn as that ravaged hawthorn.

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012

 

Lady of the Wind

Words by John Carder Bush (reprinted here by kind permission of John Carder Bush)

Vocals by Beck Siàn and John Carder Bush

Violin by Raven Bush

Music by Beck Siàn

 

The wind has the heart of a wicked child

That laughs and moans when she sings -

The wind will come to you whenever she is wild,

Just let her in, let her in.

 

When the wind blows, open your windows;

When the wind roars, pull her indoors,

For the wind is a person, pretty and fearsome,

With a force so vast she can haul down the past,

Or cast her whispers, like a gang of giggling sisters,

In a corner, in a nook, or across the pages of an open book.

 

Feel the wind as she snuffles at your skin,

In her playful haste she might just brush your face,

Taste your thoughts and what you've caught,

Then chase a hair left behind by someone fair,

Bare the covered table, like wind from a fable,

Or smash all your windows with a poke of her elbow.

 

Lasting just a beat, she clears away the heat

Of nights of summer passion, turned grey and ashen,

She fashions shapes from smoke of midnight tokes,

Long gone rotten, into ghosts best forgotten.

Cottons swirl and flap, water sprays across the tap

As she strokes your back, sighs and then goes slack.

 

Across the misted glass the wind is flying past -

Let her into your room, let her rattle and boom;

With a flick of her tail she'll scatter your mail,

With a toss of her mane she clears away rain,

With a thump of her knees she can flatten trees,

With a kiss of her lips she can blow us to bits.

 

Can you hear her Slamming all your doors,

Tugging at the bolts on all your winter stores,

Coming up the stairs and then across your floors

To try and open all your secret, hidden drawers?

Here comes that wind tapping with her salty paws,

Here comes that wind running along your corridors.

 

Tacking over the bedclothes she licks and throws

The silks of leisure over the creases of pleasure.

Treasure the lady of the wind for she whips away sin

With her sweeping fins flipping over edge and rim,

Scattering empty tins and knocking over your bins:

But to clean what has been, you must first let her in.

 

When the wind blows, open your windows;

When the wind roars, pull her indoors,

For the wind is a person, pretty and fearsome,

With a force so vast she can haul down your past,

Or cast her whispers, like a gang of giggling sisters,

In a corner, in a nook, or across the pages of an open book.

 

The wind has the heart of a wicked child

That laughs and moans when she sings -

The wind will come to you when she's wild,

Just let her in, let her in.

© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions/John Carder Bush 2012

 

Molly Malone

Traditional. Arranged/adapted by Beck Siàn.

Vocals by Beck Siàn.

 

In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty

I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone

As she wheeled her wheelbarrow

Through streets broad and narrow

Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"

 

She was a fishmonger and sure it was no wonder

For so were her father and mother before

And they both wheeled their barrows

Through streets broad and narrow

Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"

 

"A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!"

Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"

 

She died of a fever and no one could save her

And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone

Now her ghost wheels her barrow

Through streets broad and narrow

Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"

 

"A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!

Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"

 


 

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