David Harley Words & Music

Backup:

Close to where I stand on Trecobben
Pilgrims walk the St. Michael’s Way
Few today will reach Santiago
Most will cease their journey at the Bay
The Mount is rising from the distant water
Yet barely seems an arm’s length away

Causley on the road to Marazion
Dreamed of one last summer on the Med
Sheets are dancing Morris in the wind
A buzzard slowly circles overhead
Engine houses march along the skyline
A sea fret daubs the coast in brown and red

Beyond the darkening horizons
Beyond the hills to the West
Beyond Pendeen and Cape Cornwall
The Longships founder off Lands End
Sea nymphs and mermaids pluck the heartstrings
But the bells no longer ring in Lyonesse

Around me march the ghosts of long-dead armies
Recalled among these ancient stones
The engine house beyond the farm
Still offers shelter to the crows
I watch the sun sink slowly to the West
Back into the sea from whence it rose

Notes:
Trecobben is an alternative name for Trencrom Hill and the giant who is supposed to have lived there and passed the time by throwing stones at his counterpart Cormoran on St. Michael’s Mount, which can clearly be seen from the top of the hill (weather permitting).

The St. Michael’s Way is part of the network of pilgrim’s paths that converge on the pilgrim route that leads to St. James Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. It’s believed that pilgrims and missionaries from Wales and Ireland would land at Lelant and walk overland to Marazion rather than risk sailing/rowing around Lands End.

The second verse refers to Charles Causley’s ‘The Seasons In North Cornwall’ where he talks of meeting ‘Old Summer’ on the road to Marazion.

Living around Trencrom, we’ve had lots of time to observe that the horizon is often obscured by low-lying red-brown cloud, especially when pollution levels are high.

The Longships are a series of islets a mile or so off Lands End, known for the lighthouse on Carn Bras.

In Arthurian legend, the kingdom of Lyonesse was said to have bordered Cornwall but to have sunk beneath the waves between Lands End and the Scillies. Walter de la Mere’s ‘Sunk Lyonesse’ refers to Nereids playing lyres in “sea-cold Lyonesse”, while the Mermaid of Zennor has her own place in Penwith mythology.

There is a plaque on the Iron Age fort at the top of Trencrom that reads:

“This property was presented to the National Trust by Lt Col C L Tyringham, of Trevethoe in March 1946 & at his wish is to be regarded as a memorial to the men and women of Cornwall, who gave their lives in the service of their country during the two world wars. 1914 – 1918, 1939 – 1945”

There are a good many engine houses in the area, but the one beyond Trencrom Farm is the one variously known as Wheal Alice and Wheal Foxes, part of the former Trencrom Mine.

MP3 links removed, as the song is now available on Bandcamp.

It’s late and the driver has nothing to say
One more stop ahead
On an endless highway
One more place to be, and nowhere to stay
For the road was the ruin of me
The tour bus, the tranny,
The fluffed chords of fame
The days in the airport, the runaway train
You don’t care for my songs
And you don’t know my name
For the road was the ruin of me

I was never a drifter, I’d no urge to roam
But somehow the tour bus
Became my home
The scenery fades
And the scene is long gone
And the road was the ruin of me
The smoke and the pipe dream,
The whisky, the beer
There’s nothing to treasure
And nothing to fear
There’s no one here now
To send out for some gear
And the road was the ruin of me

The call of the wild,
And the song of the road
The end of the game
And the call of the void
There’s no one to meet
And there’s nowhere to hide
The road was the ruin of me
The heroes and villains,
The bait and the switch
The hole in my sock
And the travelling itch
I’ll never be famous,
I’ll never be rich
For the road was the ruin of me

I drank much too deep at the wishing well
I knew what I wanted but never could tell
Now I’ve only these dreams
And these few words to sell
For the road was the ruin of me
All that I’ve learned is how little I know
All I’ve come home to is a new place to go
And it’s never a place that I wanted to be
For the road was the ruin of me

The oldest of my songs that I still perform.

Backup:

Rain, the gentle rain that hung upon the grass
The autumn rain that touched the fields so early
When the summer sun returns, will you hold me in your arms
Once again, among the fields of golden barley?

Summer was a burning wind that raised a bitter crop
That came and went so quickly and unfairly
Then the autumn rain put a rust upon my heart, left alone
Among the fields of golden barley

A pale song, a sad song to hold within my mind
A bitter song of summer love gone from me
Such a pale song, a sad song to hold within my mind
Left alone among the fields of golden barley

Rain, the gentle rain that hung upon the grass
The autumn rain that touched the fields so early
When the summer sun returns, will you hold me in your arms
Once again, among the fields of golden barley?