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Come all you fair
and tender girls
that flourish in your prime,
Beware, beware, keep your garden fair
Let no man steal your thyme,
Let no man steal your thyme.
For when your thyme
it is past and gone
He'll care no more for you,
And every place where your garden was waste
With spread all over with rue,
With spread all over with rue
A woman is a branchy
tree
And a man a single wand, wand
And from her branches carelessly
He takes what he can find
He takes what he can find
He takes what he can find
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I wandered
I wandered
In the wilderness
Far, far away... |
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No voices sounding
No voices sounding
No one around me
No one around me
Oh should I sigh
I can't say goodbye
Hear my call here |
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Help me to live this day
Help me to live this day
Hear my call
I pray
Hear my call
Hear my call
Hear my call here |
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It's cold, dark and wet
It's cold, dark and wet
The sun has made its set
I've lost all I lived for
God bless all I'm here for
Hear my call here
Hear my call here |
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The summer slips below the surface
Floating slowly in clear water
Drinking sunlight through the fisheye
See the moon broken
Moonflowers
bright with people walking
Drinking wine and eating fruit and laughing
Heart and soul life passes from one to another
Death alone walks with no one to converse with
Well I had a
dream of love
All night long
I thought I heard a siren sing
A song of love
(Well) I had a
dream of love
All night long
(Well) I thought I heard a siren sing
A song of love
Now does this
river belong to anybody I know?
Can I fish just a little to ease my body and soul?
Just sit and
dream on the river bank
Let my mind relax and let my consciounsness be easy and free
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Come here sweet
lover
Come do, take my hand
Carry me
So far from here
Take me far across
Desert burning red
Mirage
Can Take me there
Take me to the end
Over rainbow dream
Falling into your arms
I'm going back baby
way behind the sun
I'm going back baby way behind the sun
I'm gonna find me some honey and I just might bring you some
Now I'm going back baby don't you want to go
Now I'm going back baby don't you want to go
Goodbye to trouble never come back no more
Your gonna go out
and find one of those fancy men
You better go out and find one of those fancy men
He'll roll you over in the clover and never come back again
I'm going back baby way behind the sun
I'm going back baby way behind the sun
I'm gonna find me some honey and I just might bring you some
In Bruton town there
lived a farmer
Who had two sons and one daughter dear.
One told his secrets to no other,
but to his brother this he said,
"I think our servant courts our sister,
I think they have a mind to wed.
I'll put an end to all their courtship,
I'll send him silent to his grave."
A day of hunting was
prepared,
Where only bush and briars grew.
And there they did this young man murder,
And in the brake his body threw.
"Now welcome home, my dear young brothers,
Our serving man, is he behind?"
"We've left him where we've been a-hunting,
"We've left him where no man can find."
As she lay dreaming
on her pillow,
She thought she saw her own true love;
She dreamt she saw him standing by her,
She saw his coat was red with blood.
"Don't weep for me, my dearest jewel,
Don't weep for me nor care nor pine,
For your two
brothers killed me cruel
In such a place you may me find.
"Rise up, my love, tomorrow morning,
Go straightway to that brake you know,
For there you'll find my body lying,
Where only bush and briars grow."
She went out early
in the morning,
And in the garden brake she stood
And there she found her own dear jewel,
All covered o'er in a gore of blood.
She took a kerchief
from her pocket,
And wiped his eyes though he was blind.
"Because he was my own true lover,
My own true love and a friend of mine."
Three days and
nights she did sit by him,
And her poor heart was filled with woe,
Till cruel hunger crept upon her,
And home she was obliged to go.
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Personnel:
Terry Cox: Drums, Percussions
Bert Jansch: Guitar, Vocals
Jacqui McShee: Vocals
John Renbourn: Guitar, Sitar, Vocals
Danny Thompson: Bass
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Hear My Call |
A song from the Staple
Singer's repertoire. The Staple Singers were an afro-american vocal group,
formed by members of Staple family, first active since the eary sixties as
a gospel group and then as a R&B group. "Hear My Call" is a
minor success of the group. |
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Pentangling,
Mirage
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As transcribed by Doug Johnson (11/2002), with
further integrations. |
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Bruton Town
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Traditional folk song. Taken
from an anthology. Lyrics are slightly different form those included in
the album. |
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Has
there ever been a first LP which was not "eagerly awaited"?
Visions of Pentagular faithful squatting, swollen-eyed and
morning-mouthed, outside garish Wilson Picketted shop windows. This record
has been a long time in gestation but in the wonder of its birth all the
waiting is forgotten. The nicest thing about it all lies in the fact that
the whole process has been public and, through earlier records, can be
recalled at any of its stages. As solo performers the ingredients of the
Pentangle have won the admiration of the public and their fellow
musicians. Bert Jansch, owner of the
most mis-pronounced name in Britain, and John
Renbourn must have more imitators than any other contemporary
guitarists. Their several solo LPs and the beautiful "Bert and
John" LP (TRA 144) are all logical steps toward the record you are
clutching in your hand. Jacqui McShee
has also survived a prolonged baptism of fire in the clubs, concert halls
and pubs. If you own, as you should, John Renbourn's "Another
Monday" LP (TRA 149) you will already know her. She has developed her
reputation both as a blues-singer and as a traditional folk-singer. If you
are in the spirit for mature investigation check some of those records
that you treasure the most. If they credit the musicians -and they
probably don't - you will find the names of bassist Danny
Thompson and drummer Terry Cox
cropping up with bewildering regularity. They are two-fifths of the
Pentangle. In a brother's girl-friend's flat over coffee and behind
forgotten conversations, we listened to records a year ago. Slowly the
witless chatter fell into the black carpet and the music filled the spaces
where it had hung. This was a first introduction to Bert Jansch and a week
later the same music danced into the aromatic night air from a rusting
ship within a few weeks' reach of legislation. In the following weeks John
Renbourn and Jacqui joined the mornings and those listening wrote
gratefully. The Pentangle have been heard this year on Radio One. It would
have made your Sunday afternoon brighter if you had heard them. If you
did, you will be buying this record anyway. Is it necessary to talk of
"fusions of traditional folk forms", "musical
innovations", "collective explorations" and the like?
Answer "No" in sixty words or less. Play this record to those
you love.
(John
Peel)
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Published 1968 Transatlantic
Records Ltd. / Gold Disc-Carlin Music: 1,2,4,5,6,7,8 / Copyright Control:
3 |
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