IRISH LOVE SONG

Heading out on a Friday night,
Like we were running straight from hell,
Right into that old Carty’s bar,
And you were leaning on the corner like,
You were Steve McQueen,
You said “Hey girl, are you out tonight?”
And then you put your arms around me,
You said “You sure feel good to me”.

CHORUS:
But I wish I remembered more,
Than the one little thing you said,
Well, I know you said a thousand things, man,
But that one got in,
And I wish I remembered more,
Than the one little thing you did,
You pulled me in to watch me stand,
In the doorway as you left.

When you touched my face with love,
It was only for yourself,
You wanted a kid to keep your darkness down,
And when those towers shook to pieces,
And the barmaid cried out, man,
You didn’t even make a sound,
You just drank your Stella slowly,
From your fading wooden throne. 

CHORUS

I hardly think about you now,
And when I do I kinda smile,
And all our places have been long pulled down,
Did I ever even cross your mind?
Did you ever think I’d do alright?
To be honest neither did I,
But as the river rises,
That lonely bell will toll. 

CHORUS

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Bass
Rebecca Mileham: Violin
Greg Ireland: Accordion
Matthew Mason: Drums
Whiskey Mick: Bodhrán
Hjördis Moon Badford: Backing Vocals

BURN ME BLUE

Here I stand untouched, unclaimed,
Strategically left on words I saved,
Don’t talk in case I move.

What becomes of nobody’s child?
Well, we learn how to keep our visions alive,
In our tiny hands and tiny flames.

And you, love, you burn me blue.

Here I stand untouched, untamed,
Strategically left on words I saved,
Hold back in case I move.

Emily knew the nobodies too,
So she wrote them down so we’d know,
When we burn blue.

And you, love, you burn me blue.

If you treasure my mind,
I’ll treasure your time,
Burn me blue.

What becomes of nobody’s child?
Well, we learn how to keep our visions alive,
In our tiny hands and tiny flames.

And you burn me blue.

If you treasure my mind,
I’ll treasure your time,
Burn me blue.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Bass
Greg Ireland: Accordion
Hjördis Moon Badford: Cajon
Sil Fiore: Backing Vocals

WINTER LIGHTS

Beneath the winter lights,
I will call you mine,
We moved in circles,
Perfect circles.

I put that old red dress on,
But all the colour's gone,
You don’t know what it's like,
Without your light.

CHORUS:
For a moment in time,
I'd call you mine,
And you'd lay beside me.
For a moment in time,
I'd call you mine,
And we'd count stars. 

The pretty box you gave me still shines,
And the pretty lady in it, man, she moves in time,
In her circles,
Perfect circles. 

So, I'm gonna keep your face lit in this fire,
While the kids outside they sing in their lonesome choir,
They don’t know what it’s like,
Without your light.

CHORUS

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Bass
Greg Ireland: Accordion
Rob Bartlitz: Piano
Matthew Mason: Drums
Hjördis Moon Badford: Cajon, Backing Vocals

SHADOWBOXING

Hey, little boy, don’t you cry,
There’s a police car waiting right outside for you,
Men of God have got some space for you and your brother too,
There’s a river rising in you but it won’t make the shore,
‘cause that tempest that they placed in you will rage forevermore,
It’ll make you move, yeah, you’ll move.

These days you spend your time,
Roaming in your mind behind these walls,
Like a thousand other men, each one of them with a bag of pain,
On a silent sea of what could have been,
They move, they move.

You dance me through your stories,
Like you’re shadowboxing through time,
When that social-climbing man called you a tinker and a tramp,
Well, that remained,
But what’s in you is in me too,
It makes me move, makes me move.

I met the man whose records we used to play,
And I wrote the lyrics on that tea-stained inlay,
He told me “If you want an apple, you don’t go to the barrel,
You go to the tree”,
He said “Daughter, you go to the tree,
You go right down to your roots,
And you’ll move, yeah, you’ll move”.

He said “Daughter, you go to the tree”,
He said “Daughter, you go to the tree,
You go right down to your roots,
And you’ll move, yeah, you’ll move, yeah, you’ll move”.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Rob Bartlitz: Piano
Phil Beer: Violin
Ian Montague: Bass
Matthew Mason: Percussion

HIDE ME LONDON

Hide me London, I’m banging at your door,
The man in the front seat says I gotta pay more,
But I’m a long way,
I’m a long way,
I’m a long way from home.

Hide me London, I’m looking to you,
I’ve walked all your back streets in these hand me down shoes,
And I’m a long way,
I’m a long way,
I’m a long way from home.

Will you take me on a night bus ride,
Where the drunks and the lonely they sing out of time,
I wanna burn your streets and taste your dirty gold.

Hide me London, I’ve followed all your rules,
I’ve crossed all your bridges and I’ve become the fool,
And I’m a long way,
I’m a long way,
I’m a long way from home.

Will you take me on a night bus ride,
Where the drunks and the lonely they sing out of time,
I wanna burn your streets and taste your dirty gold.

I’ve sat with your sons as they start to cry,
And I’ve ran with your daughters to your stations in the night,
And I’m a long way,
I’m a long way,
I’m a long way from home.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Bass
Whiskey Mick: Mandolin
Greg Ireland: Accordion
Matthew Mason: Drums
Hjördis Moon Badford & Linda Moylan: Backing Vocals

ROAMING

Trees they move my mind aside,
To the lady who sat by the fireside,
There were bird’s eye patterns on a dress she wore,
She got bird’s eye view forever more.

Land she had, it’s gone too,
They tore it up you see,
She calls from the hills and bracken tilts,
And tells me of all the earth they spilled,
Da da di di,
Da da di di.

CHORUS:
All I have are songs you gave,
All I have are songs,
All I have and roaming. 

Man down the road, he’s gone too,
No more will you hear his come-all-ye tunes,
And gates he guarded they’ve all come asunder,
Now they move inside that lonely thunder,
Da da di di,
Da da di di. 

CHORUS

All I have and roaming.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Rob Bartlitz: Piano
Rebecca Mileham: Violin
Mark Estall: Bass
Hjördis Moon Badford: Cajon

DUTCH HOUSES

She paints Dutch houses,
From her memories, how things used to be,
A faded postcard,
On the mantelpiece, it brings her peace,
Oh, and it doesn’t decay,
She paints Dutch houses to keep them that way.

She reads French novels,
She buys from the second-hand stall,
She reads herself alive,
It stops her from feeling so small,
Oh, and it doesn’t decay,
She reads French novels to keep them that way.

But in the night-time you go from room to room,
Moving boxes around with those things you’ve found,
On your way to here,
Go to the bathroom, turn your light on,
Man, you look so confused, how did you get here so soon?
When you’re a good girl, you’re a good girl,
You were always a good girl.

She sings Spanish love songs,
And imagines him at her side,
When he said she was pretty,
Maybe he lied,
Oh, we slowly decay,
Oh, we slowly decay,
She sings Spanish love songs,
Bittersweet love songs,
We sing little love songs to fill up the day.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Mandola, Bass
Rebecca Mileham: Violin
Matthew Mason: Drums

THE LITTLE I HAVE

The room is cold, the wick is low,
I can feel you in the air,
Like a solitary magpie,
You’ve been out there helping yourself.

 Your effigy returns to me,
Demanding pride of place,
The best of you has all been spent,
While I’ve been rooting,
In the earth, the earth, the earth.

 Now you come knocking for the little, the little I have.

 You pulled your circus down,
There was nowhere else to roam,
As the lights went out on that Blackheath,
All the children floated home.

 A knowing fortune teller,
Who couldn’t read the signs,
If you hadn’t been so clever,
You could have been the fool, the fool, the fool.

 Now you come knocking for the little, the little I have.

 You show up like the Fisher King,
Your dignity unfurled,
You’ve been wondering in that wasteland,
You made for yourself.

 You sit down at my table,
Expecting to be fed,
But before I fill that empty bowl,
You’d have starved to death, to death, to death.

 Now you come knocking for the little, the little I have.

 Now you come knocking for the little, the little I have.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Nylon String Guitar, Bass
Hjördis Moon Badford: Cajon

VENUS IN THE DIRT

Came home with a picture in a broken frame,
The Mona Lisa and Elvis, I got no shame,
Pulled it out of the neighbour’s skip,
Gonna hide the wood chip,
With ‘Love Me Tender’ and da Vinci’s muse.

CHORUS:
From the tenth floor balcony,
I can see the city walls,
Barefoot dancing to our symphony,
He whispers “You’re my Venus in the dirt”. 

A few sticks of furniture is all we need,
Paid off on the bed just last week,
Laying here beneath our coats,
We don’t even feel the cold,
We’ve got the sacred heart above us burning bright.

CHORUS 

Remember last November when we danced around the fire,
Like the beast set alight, you fuelled my desire,
You laughed “It’s just like Lunasa”, your hands upon your hips,
Then you spun in the dirt ‘neath the church of your worship.

Let me wipe the ashes from your face,
Getting colder as the embers fade away.

CHORUS

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Electric Guitar, Bass, Percussion, Backing Vocals
Rebecca Mileham: Violin
Hjördis Moon Badford: Cajon

ANCIENT TRUTH

From the shadows of his staying place,
He brought her face to focus,
The bare-bulb light of his tomb,
They cast their stories,
Like an ancient truth.

Time began to split itself,
Across the ragged walls,
Each incarnation they’d accepted,
Played out across the ground,
Like an ancient truth. 

And she felt his call so quiet,
She knew his heart so well,
A knocking from inside your mind,
A world beyond the veil.

His tired mind could not conceive,
What visions brought to bear,
The many times he’d known her hands,
And bathed beneath her stare,
Like an ancient truth.

And she felt his call so quiet,
She knew his heart so well,
A knocking from inside your mind,
A world beyond the veil.

Like an ancient truth.

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Acoustic Guitar, Mandola, Bass, Brandy Glass
Matthew Mason: Snare Drum

The Green Fields Of France

Linda Moylan: Vocal
Ian Montague: Electric Guitar