1. TRAVELLERS' TALES
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1980s

Come sit you down you poor weary traveller I see you are hungry and cold
Here's a bed for the night, a bright fire for your warming and hot steaming soup in a bowl.
'Tis all that we have and all that we ask in return is an hour of your time
To tell us your tales of those wonderful places and people you surely have known.

CH:
For travellers' tales are food for our dreaming and travellers come rarely this way
And we sail our ships upon our dream oceans when we hear those travellers' tales
When we hear those travellers' tales.

Well, the traveller began to tell of his journeys and wonderful yarns did he weave
Of his dangerous times and far flung adventures and such that we could not believe
Of mythical beasts in the far mystic east and the hard frozen plains to the north
And the many strange breeds and colours and creeds of the people who dwell on this earth.

CH

Later that night I lay in my bed and I dwelt on the travellers words
And I longed to be a soldier of fortune and wander all over the world.
Then I fell asleep, and deep in my slumber I dreamed that I sailed on the sea
And I was a man, a traveller, a rover and the whole world belonged just to me.

CH

2. HARLEQUIN DANCES
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

The people have gone, the theatre is empty
The doors are all barred, the theatre's closed.
The shows and the companies won't be returning
The last curtain call was a long time ago.
No more rehearsals, no more leading ladies
No more ballerinas or hams or buffoons.
Gone is the limelight, the nerves on the first night,
Gone are the comics and clowns and signature tunes.
I can remember the place in its heyday
The laughter, the lights, the cheers from the stalls.
The houses were full, well all the stars played here
Just look at the names on the dressing room walls.

CH:
And wasn't it nice
Wasn't it lovely
Wasn't it grand, oh wasn't it gay.
The magical nights, the make believe journey
Now they're all gone and they're faded away.

Some people say the theatre is haunted
Phantoms appear and go through their scenes.
An audience of ghosts applauds them in silence
Those dancers and jugglers, those princes and kings.
Hamlet is wand'ring in Elsinore's hallways
Feste the jester still goes through his rhymes,
Poor Cinderella runs home after midnight
And Harlequin dances once more with sweet Columbine.
Chorus lines, pantomimes, operas and farces
This grand lady theatre took them all in.
Some went to the top, some fell on their faces
But they were her children, each one the same.

CH twice

3. JACK OF HAWTHORN
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990's

See Hawthorn Bay, the blackened rock, the withered grass, the sand so dark and grey
In Hawthorn Bay the wind howls off the North Sea all the night and all the day
And here upon this blasted land a hermit man once stayed
In a driftwood shack a driftwood man named Jack lived his life away.

CH:
Jack of Hawthorn lived down here from the ending of the war
How could a man live all those years upon this feral shore
Upon this feral shore.

We made our way down through the ferny valley and across the shattered bay
With offerings, a ball of string, a tin of beans, a can of paraffin
Jack told us tales of when he'd sailed the seven seas around
But it was not true, no we all knew he'd been a miner in the ground.

CH

Us kids we grew, left childish things behind, moved on as people have to do
I once returned to seek old Jack, that driftwood shack and then it was I learned
Well meaning Welfare people came and put him in a home
He lived a week, died in his sleep, they say he died of being warm.

CH

The years they raced, Spring tides rolled up and washed away all knowledge of that place
There is no trace that Jack lived in his little shack with the wind upon his face
Driftwood comes and driftwood goes upon the tidal race
Old Jack has gone, the tide rolls on, the dark wind still howls off the waves.

CH

4. NORTH COUNTRY
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

She wears no paint upon her face, no rings upon her fingers
She walks the world with grace, enchanting all who see her.
She captured me right from the start, the first day that I met her
A hostage was my heart, my soul the willing prisoner.
Together we did sail beyond the realms of understanding
Lost on the tides of love in oceans never ending.

CH:
My love is in the north country and ever will she be there.
I am in the cold country and ever will I stay here

With all my heart I loved that lass, so much my feelings hurt me
My love exceeds my grasp, my reason deserts me.
I could not bear those wracks of pain, so I had to leave her
And the pain of being away is less than being with her.

CH

Had I loved her a little less perhaps I'd still be with her
Not in this wilderness, this life of ever winter.
I never can go home again to my beloved country
Nor walk the hills again with my beloved lady

CH

5. A PICTURE OF YOU AND ME
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

I was rummaging round in the kitchen today
In search of some money I'd hidden away
When I found an old photograph there in the drawer
Taken some years back but when I'm not sure.
A picture of you and me
And it stirred up some old memories.
We must have been just twenty two, twenty three
But even back then you looked younger than me.

CH:
And I just can't believe
What the years have been doing to me
Take a look at us now and I think you'll agree
The years have been kinder to you
Than to me.

I look at you now and I'm simply amazed
You don't look any older, you scarcely have changed
Your face is so young and your eyes they do shine,
Perhaps there's just one or two more laughter lines.
And I can't help wondering
How you've stayed so slender and slim
Your body is ever so youthful and trim
Must be that stuff that you rub in your skin.

CH

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
This elderly stranger is looking at me
With his tired old eyes and his beard of grey
And a face that has certainly seen better days.
Yes a face that looks battered and bruised
A body that's been badly used,
Those thousands of cigarettes, gallons of booze.
Too many late nights waiting up for the Muse.

CH

6. THE PEDLAR'S ROAD
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

My journey's been long said the Pedlar man
I've bought and I've sold and I've done what I can
I've had more than my share of this miserable land
So I'm going back home, I'm on my way home.

I've been whipped by the wind and the hail and the rain
Every bend in the road is tattooed on my brain
And for every long mile I've an ache and a pain
So give me some cheer, come pour me a beer.

CH:
The pedlar's road is a hard road,
The pedlar's road is the loneliest road to be on and I'm glad I'm all done
For the kindest of roads is the road that is taking me home.

I'll be off after dawn in the fresh morning air
With the sun on my back and the wind in my hair
And a hangover paid for tonight fair and square
So pour some more beer, some more and some more.

I'll be at the border not long before noon
Leaving this land not a minute too soon
I'll arrive at my home by the light of the moon
Humming a tune, I'll be humming a tune

CH

When he slipped 'neath the table we were not alarmed
Gently we dragged him feet first to the barn
And he slept with his horse quite safe from all harm
And they snored and they snored, Lord how they snored.

At morning the pedlar was good as his word
He woke up with a head he so richly deserved
He just hitched up his horse and the last that we heard
He was humming a tune, humming a tune.

CH

7. SALAMANDER
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

Fellow travellers in this time, listen to this tale of mine
Come spare a moment, hear this rhyme, for every word is true.
The road of life is hard and long, and every mile I travelled on
I gathered stories, gathered songs, here's a song for you.
So pass the bottle, fill my glass, storytelling's a thirsty task
Your ears, your ears are all I ask, perhaps a coin or two

CH:
Hear the tale of the storyman, the little spider that spins the yarn
A Salamander on a sailors arm, my rhyme is your tattoo.

When I was young I left my home, had to travel on my own
A Romany, a lonesome stone that could not help but roll.
Through Samarkand and far Cathay the Silk Road it was my way,
Cold nights in the Himalay, frozen to the bone.
In Byzantium I learned to laugh, in Mandalay I took my bath
The Road became my garden path, the world became my home.

CH

I tarried in Luangfrabang and there I joined a Caravan
We travelled deep in the Southern Lands along the Crystal Sea.
We came to rest in the Ironland, a city built on crimson sand
And there my heart betrayed my plan, for there I fell in love.
I fell in love with a minstrel girl, dark eyes and a crown of curls,
And in her navel shone a silver pearl.oh she took my breath away.

She was betrothed to another man, he did her wrong, he gave her harm
I broke his head I broke his arms and sent him on his way.
I played the hawk, she played the dove. I was the hand she was the glove
On the magic carpet of her love she flew my soul away.
She said I will not tie you down! For I am Romany from now!
Show me your world you Gypsy hound.Ah we sailed away that day.

CH

We played to kings in Amritsar, my silver rhymes, her silk sitar
And to the North we charmed a Czar, so we made our way.
We beat a path unto the West, the Romanys' infernal quest
The years flew till we made a nest in Erin's Northern isle.
And when we'd grown a family my Lady Grey she said to me
'For sure they'll fly' they're Romany', and sure those fledglings flew

CH

My Lady grew too old to play. Her sitar in the corner lay.
She bade me go and tell my tales, but no I stayed at home.
My Lady passed away this year, so my friends you find me here
I sing my songs, I drink your beer. She's gone and I'm alone.
Fellow travellers I hope you find a love as deep and as true as mine.
There is no knife so sharp so fine, there is no knife so sharp so fine.
No knife so sharp so fine as love so sweetly honed.

CH

8. MAN OF THE EARTH
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Every day as I go through the old shanty town where the sheds and allotments all stand
I see an old man on his land with a rake or a spade in his hands
And he's there in all weather in sunshine or rain and I hesitate as I go past
Is he happy or sad with his task, oh I haven't the time for to ask

CH:
The man of the earth the man of the soil
In his lonely allotment he labours and toils
There's not much to do since he turned sixty five
So he took to his garden to keep him alive
And I think it's his joy and his pride.

Fifty years in the ironworks broke his will and his back and his shoulders are round
There was no other work in the town, so they had him both fettered and bound
Then all of a sudden he turned sixty five and his bosses said thankyou my man
And they stuck a gold watch in his hand and behind him the door quickly slammed

CH

Every Saturday evening he's down at the pub and he stands by himself at the bar
Slowly sipping a solitary jar, oh a pension won't go very far
So he sells a few things to his neighbours and friends, a few of the things that he grows
But he's got to watch out how he goes or they'll stop all his pension he knows

CH

Every day as I go through the old shanty town where the sheds and allotments all stand
I see an old man on his land with a rake or a spade in his hands
But I really can't linger I must be gone, for I work in the ironworks too
Oh I started there five years ago, only forty five more to go

CH

9. THE WINDWITCH
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Where do you go with your sword held so, your crucifix and bible in the morning?
I go to the hills where the Windwitch dwells and I'll take away her life this very evening
For many's the year she has made men to fear to be travelling her forest in the evening
Many journeys do end on that path in the glen when she thirsts for your blood to be drinking.
So I took my sword and my Book of the Lord and I did go to her doorway darkling

Rise up from your sleep in your cavern so deep, come out and be slain this very moment
So that travellers may tread without fear and without dread for their lives and their souls

to be stolen
She howled like the wind, like the cold Wintry wind and she laughed like the crows of the forest
I'll break all your bones and I'll drink all your blood and I'll leave you for the crows in the forest.
Then she called for her fiends, her demons and fiends and the air did grow cold with the evil.

They crawled from the trees and from under the stones, they slid and they slithered to meet me
They tore at my clothes and they tore at my skin and they clawed at my heart to defeat me.
I slaughtered them there with my sword and my prayer and they fell and they died there before me

Then I turned to that witch, to that black eldritch and she ran to her cave to escape me.
So I took my sword and my book of the Lord and I did enter her doorway darkling.

Ye witch o' the night I come to do the right, to slay you in the name of the Lord
With these words no sooner said, I did strike off her head and the black blood did spill and did pour.

I builded a fire for a funeral pyre, and her black broken body I burned
Then taking my sword and my book of the Lord, to my home I did return.

10. THE VILLAGE FOOL
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

The village fool goes everywhere, singing to the empty air
Empty air and empty head, he doesn't care just sings instead
Are you lonely, Oh no sir says he
The birds and beasts they are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

He stands upon the village green, making faces dreaming dreams
Seeing things and being things, the village people they smile at him
Do they hurt you, oh no sir says he
All these people are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

Once when all his roses died, first he laughed and then he cried
Empty heads don't realize, seasons change and flowers die
In his sadness and his madness still he sings
The flowers all they are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

He strolls along, he rambles on, and everywhere he sings his song
And through the trees and on the breeze, his broken voice comes merrily
Are you happy, oh yes sir says he
All these things they are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing.

The village fool goes everywhere, singing to the empty air
Empty air and empty head, he doesn't care just sings instead
Are you happy, oh yes sir says he
All these people are my friends
And always will I sing for them
Good morning I sing
Good morning do I sing

11. DAVY
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

My name is Davy, though some have called me king of fools
For I laid down my tools and I went away in a sailing ship on a cold grey day
For a stranger in my soul was telling me to go and seek the world around
He said

CH:
Davy, Davy
Your heart is wild your heart is free
Davy, Davy
Sing your songs beyond the sea, beyond the sea.

I was a sailor and many's the ship that I sailed in
And with my mandoline 'neath harbour lights
I have sung for the moon on moonless nights
And in those dingy harbour bars I played the lusty tar and many's the maiden I sailed in
And they cried

CH

I was a wanderer in every sweet and bitter land
And on some desert sands I have longed somehow
For an English breeze on this English brow
And times I've been alone with dreams of going home when my stranger he came to me
He said

CH

I was a seeker and I sought all the treasures of the old
I found a horn of gold 'neath a golden tree
Then the gypsies danced and sang with me
And many's the winter's day we played the cold away till those rovers they said to me
They said

CH

When I'm an old man may the west winds carry me back home
Just a plain gravestone and a place to lie
In an English field 'neath an English sky
But I've a long way yet to go and sometimes I feel as though my journeys will never end

CH

12. THE HARPER
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

When the sun touched the brow of every hill
Sweet music flowed like a stream
Over everything it teemed
And the village did awake to the day.
When the sun touched the door of every home
Every child, woman, man stood together on the land
And the travelling man came tripping down the lane.

CH:
The harper plays, the harper sings
And all the valley gently ringing with the song
And still we hear the song the harper plays.

As the morning passed into the afternoon
Still we listened to him play
No work was done that day
As he held us fast before him with his song.
He sat there with his harp upon his knee
His fingers danced upon the strings
As a spider surely spins
With silken sounds he wove into the air.

CH

When the evening marked the passing of the day
His harp he gently laid it down
Picked the farthings from the ground
And without a word went tripping down the lane.
We stood a while as if within some dream
Then we shook our senses clear
But still we seem to hear
Each and every note the harper played.

CH

13. FINAGLE'S DREAM
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1970s

Long have I wandered far and wide with my harp in the misty mornings
Many's the song and the tune I played on many a starry evening.
Played you a jig and I played you a reel
Played for a penny, a drink or a meal
But I dream of a day at court I'll kneel
And play to a king and his lady.

CH:
Well I've waited long to play my songs
But now I am old and leaning.
You hear the old man sighing near
'Tis Finagle the harper dreaming.

In the summers I played in the meadows green with my songs both gentle and stirring
In the long cold nights I played in the light of the tavern fires burning.
Songs of the forest and songs of the sea
A song for your brothers and a song for thee
But I dream of a day at court I'll kneel
And play to a king and his lady.

CH

But the seasons they pass and the short years fly, creeping upon my shoulders
The legs grow weak and the eyes grow dim and the nights are feeling colder
Now I am aged, my head is old
My hands are feeble and my fingers cold
And my songs are forgotten and strewn by the road
And all of my tunes forsaken.

CH twice

14. THE BETHLEHEM CAFÉ
Written and Composed by Bernie Parry 1990s

Gazing from my window at the rooftops of the town
When the twilight's coming down upon the day.
The lights come on down Easy Road, the clip joints, the dirty show,
The cross above the Bethlehem Café.
Long the shadow, deep the dark, not even fools walk through the park
Taxis scurry by along the shore.
Sirens wail downtown somewhere, my room is cold, I do not care,
For love no longer knocks upon my door.

CH:
Easy. Too easy
We met, we loved, we lost, she slipped away.
Lonely. I got lonely
And I went back to the Bethlehem Café.

The Bethlehem Café shines like a beacon in the dark
And many's the moths are drawn toward the light.
The wanderers of the city plain, the sad, the mad, the lost, the strange
And any lonely heart that haunts the night.
And on that night we chanced to meet, we talked of things beyond our reach
We reached for things too far, too far away.
We hummed and hovered in the night, two moths against the naked light
Burning at the Bethlehem Café.

CH

The greatest fool in history, the empty bedroom laughs.
The kitchen echoes hollow like a tomb.
And lying soiled upon the stair, the bathrobe that we used to share
When passion once danced barefoot through these rooms.
The Bethlehem calls out to me. I make my way down Harbour Street.
The boat lights dance like moths out on the bay.
Drinking from an empty glass, watching faces drifting past
The window of the Bethlehem Café.

CH