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Out From Under The King

by Blyth Power

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1.
God's Orders 05:36
On God's orders to their sleepless desert lair The knights from their commanderies bore Cold Christian soldiers seasoned prepared Standing guard behind me in the campfire glare Until the gold dawn rose kneeling in prayer The sand piles twisting shift and heave There's sand in all our waking hours and sleep There's sand and flies in everything we eat And the sand piled horizon is shifting in the heat Then shaking fades as another day in paradise is burned away And the white knights wonder why they came But it's not the sand the flies the heat or the desert smell Or the chafing of the harness and the mail But too much doting on the old crusader tales Have left me somewhere west of Heaven's Gate and too far south for Hell When I believed that fear and deprivation could make a man out of me I was taken from behind and undeceived Do not go gentle unto the light When you can snuff the candle out and curse the night Do not go gentle that would virtue find Or for wisdom seek or beauty in a narrow mind Do not go gentle unto sin But caparisoned in armour with a barbel's sting Do not go gentle to a marriage bed That seeming paved with roses may be bloody red Do not go gentle unto that good knight Cold Christian soldiers disease and despair Tragedy indifference and distemper share But on Rhodes thorned rose intent and aware Of God's orders
2.
Bracken green and lilies decked my marriage bed I was dressed in silver with a rampant lion red My guests to welcome at the door The Woodvilles and the Percys and the mossmen from the moor But the distant sound of cannon spoiled my wedding day The King of France's daughter sailed back home in disarray Now all along the border wall Muster arms the heralds call For Lord Clay Cross my Lord Clay Cross Be calm be steady believe me It's a battle that's better off lost For Lord Clay Cross Black sky white heather white frost How many blue eyed barons kissed your hand today How many swore allegiance as they brushed your tears away And told you where there's a tavern in the town Fine ideals recline on finer eiderdowns But while you made your power play I changed my mind Slipping past your sentry posts I forsook the battle line No oath remains unbroken very long When the better part of valour Is admitting that you're wrong Lord Clay Cross deadlock dead level dead loss Rode back to his manor in Redesdale I burned my bridges when you broke the news Cast the sword aside I'd never learned to use To search for quietude and prayer No bleach marks on the bath towels no plugholes full of hair But I bore no grudge preserved no sullen air There's no smothered nephews buried underneath my stairs No one to censure or to blame No loose ends to tie or maintenance to pay For Lord Clay Cross my Lord Clay Cross Be calm be steady believe me It's a battle that's better off lost For Lord Clay Cross White star white feathers white horse From my vows delivered unfreeze me
3.
I'll go back to the shires someday Where the fields are green and the sky's not cloudy all day Because there's not enough room here and not enough money to pay Hearts in my hand reading seven and ace My hand's on my heart when I'm saying my grace I'm thanking the saviour for stuffing my face With my pigs and my fishes and wine I'm the heir to my sorrows a couple of cows My horse my sheep and my farrowing sow And we go to church now it isn't allowed To work on Sunday no more We bow our heads in the family pew We never ask why so we never know who Calls us there with the rest of the Heaven bound few To teach us one day at a time In Westminster and Wandsworth the fish still continue to rise To snap up the bait with the wool pulled over their eyes With a crack on the head it's into the basket they go Then it was clubs bills and longbows we took in our hands And went off to London to make our demands We're fed up with WOMAD and socialist bands We wanted our freedom we wanted our land Take a jump cried the Bishop ride over your cross Save up for your sins and avoid at all cost When you all live together over Stratton-on-Foss Once more King Richard's away to the wars For a reason as vague as his aim is obscure None of the press gang care what it's for So long as he's paying them square But when Redcar Shotton on Dee and Appleby close And Powergen stuff the pits with American coal What will poor Robin do then to keep out the cold In Glasgow Lyons and Chicago Calcutta Shanghai Steamrolling all over the moles go scurrying by No one sees as behind the skirting they blow When our ship comes down to the banks of the river we'll flow The yeast will rise if the fists keep pounding the dough Soon into the furnace for baking the people will have to go Andromeda you mustered your children away from their ploughs Some are in prison some are still free to tell how Beneath the earth that you promised them rashly Some are pushing up daisies for you now
4.
Emma 03:19
Emma says I you caught my eye You beckoned and I followed you through Now how long do you expect to engage me here? What do you expect me to do? What kind of a man do you take me for Tell me what are you trying to prove? You would refuse my advances she answered if only you knew Then Emma says I the stars are bright But there isn't that much of a moon The guests will be ready for dinner at eight So we'd better be getting in soon She said your haste isn't tasteful or decent And it's tarnished your silvery spoon You are amusing sometimes but I wonder if ever you're true You can amuse me whenever you choose Take me pray gentle Jane To the cold heart of the matter and make it plain Tell her story state her claim Every book every page Every word every speech you make her say Let your ordered mind arrange And pray gentle Jane Make her play take her measure make her pay I'll make her rue the day she came And you will excuse me for using her name In the coppice gales mourn as a coach is drawn For Emma getting ready to go With the sour faced squire from a midland shire Who's offering his body and soul She says his heart is a lion regardless While mine is a pancake roll Now they will have music together forever wherever they go They will have music wherever they go
5.
Unwilling lips your majesty Unwilling kisses give though seeming keen to please But I've no affection left to spare now for anyone but me I early learned to entertain To shut my mouth until he called it into play To bite my tongue and keep my cool while the fool had his way To think of England in my dreams At reminiscences of other English queens Beneath his passion saddled gored by the boor I lay serene Stifling my screams I know his route from day to day I can mark his leaden tread from several rooms away I know all the widows and their schemes and the rooms where they play He's getting older getting slow He's no straw and I've no camel's back to bear him so Nor steady hand to mop his brow when his bowels lose control I know his belly every fold Each damp depression where the canker's taking hold Each sweating crevice to my fingertips is a well travelled road But I will lay down my load And I will survive him I will last I'll be alive to see him wormcast To watch the carriage bear his cask and the pallbearers pass I set the flags to halfmast Bought the candles paid the priest to say the mass Had marble columns raised And fools paid to praise him To parade And read his epitaph
6.
Lord Derby thought his tarot cards would never tell him lies With a Yorkist Sunne in Splendour thought he'd backed the winning side That was on the field at Bosworth back in 1485 There was Stanley there was Percy with a pricetag on his shield Jackie Duke of Norfolk and Lincoln in the field There was weeping Henry Tudor with his sinus' and seals And ships lined up from Dungeness to Dover While the liar and the unicorn were fighting for the crown King Richard in the middle and the centre giving ground The Percys cast a sovereign up and lay their weapons down I was born of an Oxford joiner there and only twelve years old When the preacher took my measure ambition took me hold And I met the Earl of Lincoln and the jeunne d'armes De La Pole First they crowned me king in Dublin and we crossed the Irish sea Lord Derby sought his tarot cards a vision for to see Of one hundred thousand Furness men standing on the glebe But he cut the pack and turned the fool's card over When we failed to raise the commons we failed to raise the peers Back we rode like madmen through the missiles and the jeers With the sky as black with arrows as our boots were wet with fear Both John le Pole and Lincoln bold were better men than me To death they went impenitent and turning took their leave Saying never make concessions to placate the enemy While Henry Tudor licked his lips his lips he licked with glee As I trembling knelt before him his mercy to receive And when he sent me to his servant halls the closets for to clean I gladly kissed his ring and called him master Now Lord Derby and his tarot cards are scattered to the wind The hanging men are laughing as the tide is coming in And I'm a kitchen porter now instead of being King
7.
Owen's Tail 04:29
Owen's pressgang came for me Hauled me from my mother's knee Scarcely whelped and scarcely weaned Down from the hills returning With crows and convicts cold unkempt Ten long weary years I spent To all my long lost gods I sent From Dyfeds windy marches my lament Owen's sword is red with rust Owen's standards grey with dust Are Owen's prop and Owen's crutch No thanks to his barber surgeon Owen's quartermasters bold Own us body sword and soul They cut our rations steal our dole Giving Owen ten percent of the profit in gold Owen's praise demands my song Owen right or Owen wrong Owen's soldiers curse and brood Short of money short of food He owes them long arrears of pay And he'd better watch his back When we catch him off his guard someday Owen's praise demands my song Owen's minstrels play too long Owen's pages pale and young Firm of thigh and deft of tongue Omens show that come what may He'd better watch his back When we catch him off his guard someday Owen's wife the soldiers sing Fair of grace and lewd of wink Will oft by night to the sentries slink Down by the campfires burning Stealthy now to the guardhouse creeps While Owen's drunk and Owen sleeps Shakes the cup with practiced ease To dice till dawn and the grumbling watchmen fleeced Owen's praise demands my song Owen swift and Owen strong Owen vain and Owen proud Owen's laughter shrill and loud Owen's dues in time we'll pay And he'd better watch his back When we catch him off his guard someday
8.
From the sign on the door NO HAWKERS HERE Where The Devil sits weeping into his beer To the Triple Tun townhouses' muted cheer The ale has all turned sour Flower of England meet my need I've been up all night with a cause to plead I need a warrior born to bruise and bleed For Arthur of the bower When The Devil said son let's make a deal If your brain's of straw and your nerves of steel You can turn the wrath of Ezekiels wheel If you'll give to me your soul I said sorry boss no martyr I As the lord is my witness I'm his bride No bastard son to be crucified So I can't accept your role But what do you think they were saying When they spoke to The Lord that night They tugged on the bellropes with all their might As if they thought He'd hear But He just sat on His cloud in the sky Trying to make up His mind Throwing the dice from left to right As He grinned from ear to ear Now Father O'Brien is making a stand While The Devil comes roaring up the land A can and an hourglass in His hand And the clock strikes five past three The ecologists fell to fire and sword When they lay down in protest before The Lord The JOB DONE sticker on the vatican door Was plain for all to see Now the fascists hang from the telegraph poles The anarchists march on burning coals It's afternoon tea and sausage rolls For The Devil The Lord and me
9.
Swing 05:48
Down among the caddis and the reeds Float great renaissance ladies wrapped in satin winding sheets And their rumour spreads like ripples through the weed Lapis eyes the water gently bathes Great artists come to paint them the estate has agents paid To keep the fishes and the waterfowl at bay And by'r Lady who's to blame Now who will fetch the water from the well Who will bind our broken ankles tell her children's tales And take the cattle to the slaughterhouse to sell Whose hand will sketch the lily and the rose Who will pay the old retainers and the tradesmen all they're owed And spread alms among the villagers below Where everybody loved her so It fell upon a holy day a crowd was coming in For the murder of his lady wife to see Lord Barnard swing Some were dressed in velvet pressed and some wore black and scarlet Some had come as he kicked and spun To celebrate and fete our Lords departure The sun came down to see the sportsmen play The nimble man to hang him the parish priest to pray And the stable lad to lead the nag away Who will climb the Oak tree by and by To swing him high above the hayfields in an arc against the sky And let ballads songs and snatches testify That everybody's satisfied But who will drive the gypsies from the door? Who will rape the farmers daughter now set hounds about the poor And kill fair ladies and their lovers by the score? Who will sew the linen for his shroud? And give comfort to his kinsmen when they grieving gather round For we'll miss his steady hand upon the plough So everybody tells us now Down among the caddis and the reeds Float great renaissance ladies wrapped in satin winding sheets And their rumour spreads like ripples through the weed But time will pass the water taking hold What once was fresh and beautiful will blacken and corrode
10.
Bonaparte walked through the beanfield As he studied the rolling terrain He said here's where I'll station my cavalry lines Over here my artillery train And here's where I'll raise a pavilion To keep the foul weather at bay So the revellers and the jugglers And the bands can play He said but sometimes it seems I'm in heaven It's the way they described it in school With nothing to do but reflect and construe And none to talk to but fools Sometimes I can't be bothered Sometimes I just want to go home And leave the empires and the beanstalks And the standing stones Able was I When I thought I was willing and able and ready to try But the wind blows and the rainfalls And the sirens cry When the battle was finally over The old guard had broken and fled The peasants looked up from their labours and swore As I helped them to bury the dead The emperors army was scattered And when the soldiers had wandered away They left the churchbells and the birdsong At the close of play
11.
Now the Holly bears a witness fair as another winter falls We sang to please Our Father as we climbed the priory wall We sang to praise Our Saviour Christ of a virgin mother born And begged his grace and favour for the Sisters of St John We sang to save the fishermen to the merry organ's groan Six hundred tuneless children sang to raise the harvest home In the rising of the sun in the running of the deer In the playing of the merry organ sweet singing in the choir Now the Holly bears her redback berries down the winte'rs tale As black widows tempt the children from the hanging Ivy trails Sunset's tints indifferent sink as stark against the sky From the bare Elm tree branches the ragged rooks arise And where ancient feet familiar streets and the quiet pastures trod I have not seen Jerusalem nor the Holy Lamb of God

about

Back at Trinity Heights, the band finally began to be Blyth Power again, after several years' blundering. All of a sudden things went right. There was Fred again, Steve Maden's brilliant 3D artwork, which had been languishing since Karpov got shelved, and most of all, there were no frustrated songwriters with hidden agendas trying to steer things in different directions. From beginning to end, Out From Under the King has the strength of its convictions. OK, there are some hitches - Lord Clay Cross and Owen are too fast and could do with a bit more beef, and Battle of Nations wasn't rehearsed in advance, but most of it could not have been better. Released on CD only, as we finally worked out that cassettes were as big a waste of money as vinyl, this put the band back on track. Alnwick & Tyne with keyboards was what the boss had been looking for. This was all that and more.

credits

released May 5, 1996

All songs by Joseph Porter
Arranged by Blyth Power

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Blyth Power UK

Since 1984 Blyth Power have been playing and recording original music, which although regarded by many as fitting into the folk rock catergory goes so much further. Based around the lyrics of songwriter Joseph Porter, the band's sound is unique, and there is an atmosphere to Blyth Power that adds a depth to the music, and makes them more than just another pop group. ... more

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