Home from the ball [demo]

Cinders, home from the ball: words and music copyright David Harley, 1975 

I haven’t sung this in decades, so this is rough – still not sure I remember the chords correctly – but I’ve been finding old songs and thinking, “Gosh, this is worth saving.” A better version should be along sooner or later. :)

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Strange landscape
of soda lights
blank windows
city nights

The Lord of Revels folded up
the streetcorner faces
the small hours swallowed whole
and Cinders hurries home from the ball

Cinders you’re the saddest song I’ve sung
barely grown, aching and alone
fingers fumbled numbly for the key
to fit that Bluebeard’s door
and she wondered “is that all?”

She lets herself in
from the cold into the cold
creeps up creaking stairs
and hopes that no-one calls
and still the war drags on
but there was fresh blood spilt tonight

Southside

Recently rediscovered version with some slide overdubbed.

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Acoustic version recorded for Ian Semple’s show on Coast FM, but not actually used on that occasion.

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And an old electric version.

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Words & Music by David Harley, copyright 1987

I’ve got a woman on the Southside
Two more above the timberline
But it’s you, you, you
In my heart and on my mind

I followed you across the city
Anywhere your footprints led
But I just can’t stand to think of you
In that other man’s bed

I’m going across the river
To some bar where the lights don’t burn too bright
I might need you so bad right now
But I won’t even know your name by midnight

I’m leaving soon one morning
For any place my footsteps fall
If I can’t pay the fare
I’ll walk till I have to crawl