Cut-Rate Rolling Stone [demo]

I wrote this in the early 70s (or possibly even late 60s), then mostly forgot about it till today. So only demo quality at this point, but I intend to come back to it.

backup:

Cut-Rate Rolling Stone

Words & Music © David Harley

I never could hold down a job more than a month or so
Mostly I’d get itchy feet, and down the road I’d go

But I never meant to live the kind of life I’ve known
I guess I was designed to be a cut-rate rolling stone

There never was a woman born who could ever tie me down
Some just quit trying, some just wore me down

Somehow I always found myself back on the road again
With a backpack full of dreams and just a roadmap for a friend

I’ve tried to put down roots in some places that I’ve been
Sometimes I thought that I’d found love but it was all a dream

David Harley

Bottle (demo)

Backup:

Words and music (c) David Harley

Bottle

I called out softly through the darkness
Hoping someone might try the door
Hoping someone might have the key
But I don’t trust the daylight anymore

Someone knocked the bottle over
It happened once before
I suppose it might have been me
But I can’t trust the daylight anymore

I believe I’m getting stronger
Than I ever was before
But I won’t get up to look
Because I don’t believe in daylight anymore

David Harley

Adventures in Video: Young Hunting (Trad2Mad version)

This is an unaccompanied version of ‘Young Hunting'(Child 68) I found when I was still at school in the 1960s, though I’ve undoubtedly changed it since. I didn’t have a tune for it, so I cobbled one together. Unfortunately, I don’t remember where I found the words, though I’ve come across a fairly similar American text (unattributed) since.

I don’t always sing it unaccompanied, though.

Light down, light down my own true love
And stay with me the night
For I have a bed and a fireside too
And a candle that burns so bright.

I can’t light down and I won’t light down
Nor spend the night with thee
For I have a love and a true true love
Would think so ill of me

But he’s bent down from his saddle
To kiss her snowy white cheek
She’s stolen the dagger from out of his belt
And plunged it into him so deep

She’s taken him by his long yellow hair
And the maid’s taken him by the feet
They’ve plunged him into that deep doleful well
Full 20 fathoms deep

And as she’s turned her round to go home
She’s heard some pretty bird sing
Go home, go home you cruel girl
And weep and mourn for him

Fly down, fly down you pretty bird
Fly down and go home with me
And your cage will be made of the glittering gold
And the perch of the best ivory

I can’t fly down and I won’t fly down
And I’ll not go home with thee
For you have slain your own true love
And I’m feared you’ll murder me

I wish I had my bent horn bow
And drawn with a silken string
I surely would shoot that cruel bird
As sits in the briars and sings

I wish you had your bent horn bow
And drawn with a silken string
I surely would fly from vine to vine
And always you’d hear me sing

Audio capture:

Backup:

David Harley