1. |
Hearts Of Steel
05:17
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Hearts of Steel
Chris Pyam & Ken Punshon (2010)
[The furnaces of Teesside laid tracks for railway wheels
Gave bridges to the Empire, and many a good ship's keel
But the steelworks would be nothing without the men of skill
The courage, sweat, and labour of these men ...
These men with hearts of steel]
They found iron ore at Eston Bank, and nearby there was coal
Limestone added to the brew, iron was their goal
The sinter and the pellets, and the coke as well
Went into the furnace, creating merry hell
The Bessamer started belching flames into the sky
Laced with molten rain and metal sparks flew high
[]
90,000 men did come to work within the trade
Stamping "Made in England" on everything they made
First integrated steelworks was built at Cargo Fleet
But still it fed upon these men, toiling in the heat
The billets flew towards them at 40 mph
With tongs they would catch them, but not a man would cower
[]
Lackenby, the world's best steel plant, built by Dorman Long
Then Europe's largest furnace to Redcar did belong
The flashing white hot ingots rolling through the mill
Still required those hardened men, moulded with their skill
Nationalised then privatised, time and time again
Production still depended on these hardened, skillful, men
[]
They've had blast furnaces on Teesside since 1851
But the industry's gone ta ta, and in future there'll be none
Now only Scunthorpe, Port Talbot, and Newport as the third
How long will it be now, before THEIR knell is heard
What will they do, how will they feel
These men (these men) with hearts of steel
Now the furnaces are cooling
They'll need those hearts of steel
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2. |
Mysteria
02:59
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Mysteria
Ken Punshon & Chris Pyam (2010)
[Picking, picking, picking, worrying the nail
Showing nervous tension, self confidence is frail
Gabbling at the phone, then texting in despair
Increasing desperation - why is no one there?]
Battered iPod dented, cracked across its face
Smears of oil upon it, torn protective case
Slips the head phones on then rummages for fags
Cannot smoke them on the train; considers it a drag
Dark glasses hide the eyebags the flicking eyes of strain
Frantic-al-ly searching out the window of the train
Searching there for something, she has a frantic need
More phone calls she's trying, her rings they do not heed
[]
Whisky in the handbag she clearly needs a sip
Without it she'll have trouble, finishing this trip
Now munching chocolate mini bites, that's how she gets her fix
Carefully not biting the pins stuck through her lips
Lipstick inches thick is smeared onto her cheek
Whatever else she may be, she's certainly not chic
Mousy dark brown hair, now coloured strawberry-blonde
Of all the numbers that she calls, not one of them responds
[]
While the train is moving she's scratching on the glass
Then hides her face behind her hands to let the stations pass
All the time she's trembling, it's slowly getting worse
Muttering and mumbling, then uttering a curse
What on earth's the problem making her so tense
Exhibiting the stress, so mark-ed-ly intense
Now she's got me wondering, this woman on the train,
Is the problem that's she is cold turkey from cocaine?
Picking, picking, picking, worrying the nail
Showing nervous tension, self confidence is frail
At the end she gets off, is lost to history
Her cause of agitation remains a mystery
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3. |
Wreckage
03:42
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Wreckage
Ken Punshon & Chris Pyam (2010)
We wait on the beach for the light of the dawn
Then hunt for the wreckage of the ship that was drawn
Search for rich pickings, and bodies forlorn
For the poor sailor boys who the fires didn't warn
They came from the west in the teeth of the wind
Soaking wet through, their knuckles were skinned
Crossing themselves, for they had all sinned
Pleading for mercy, that nature rescind
That night they had found themselves tossed in a gale
Bucking and leaping in a ship that was frail
Stricken with danger, their faces so pale
Struggling to float, but the storm would prevail
When they realised they were nearing the land
They prayed to their maker they would end on the sand
But nature, hard hearted, didn't hear their demand
The ship ran aground, still fully manned
In the depth of the night, at just two o'clock
The ship ran aground, hard up on the rock
Two men then perished, just from the shock
The rest were left drowning, for the fates they had mocked
{Hum a verse}
If the world you will roam and try be free
Sailing the main to far-off countries
Remember the danger, the power of the sea
And the ships that are now just broken debris
We wait on the beach for the light of the dawn
Then hunt for the wreckage of the next ship that's drawn
Search for rich pickings, and bodies forlorn
For the poor sailor boys who the fires will not warn
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4. |
Clogau
05:01
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Clogau
Chris Pyam & Ken Punshon (2010)
Anna's father was a blacksmith skilled, who lived near Red Wharf Bay
To his forge a merchant came when his horse was lamed one day
The smithy warned that the horse must rest, after he'd removed a nail
He invited the man to share some bread. and cheese with a flagon of ale
[Around her neck she wore seashells, and beads of silvery blue
With her long black hair and the darkest eyes, she was bewitching too]
The men were chatting as they quenched their thirst with several flagons more
Glancing and smiling, without a word, Anna sat (quietly) by the door
You're a charming young lady, the merchant said when he caught her eye
With a striking necklace, just like witches wore in those days gone by
[]
My family brought it from Ireland Anna's father did softly say
For sixteen years she's never been ill, she wears it every day
Listen to the shells and then you'll hear spirits from long ago
They guard against the evil eye, keep her safe where'er she goes
[]
The merchant determined there and then he'd have to have the charm
So his own daughter could be safe from illness and from harm
With persuasive words he tempted Anna, to sell her amulet:
"You could buy fine clothes and travel far, a dowry you would get"
[]
At last she succumbed when piles of gold did on the table lay
As the merchant left and called farewell from the doorway
After the visitor had disappeared, Anna went upstairs
To a chest of treasures left for her great-great-grannie's heirs
[Around her neck she wore NO shells, NOR beads of silvery blue
With long black hair and the darkest eyes, STILL bewitching THO]
She found more neck-laces there inside, made of beads and shells
Selected one, tied it round her neck mutter-ing a spell
Then briefly calling in her father's forge, she set out along the trail
Enjoying her walk in the evening sun, scattering rusty nails
[]
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5. |
The Burning Sun
04:41
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The Burning Sun
Chris Pyam & Ken Punshon (2010)
A hosepipe ban is coming, or so the papers say
Gardeners are reacting with expressions of dismay
The reservoirs are falling due to a dry year
Cars are staying dirty, what a thing to fear
[Three miles we walk each day, under the burning sun
To collect our muddy water, WHEN the rivers run
6,000 die each day from water that's unclean
Please can you tell us what water shortage means]
We go out for a pleasant stroll in the summer sun
Or perhaps go biking, sometimes even run
If we're feeling thirsty we can sup fresh Adam's Ale
But when we water all our plants we have to use a pail
[]
Now it's getting serious, we must walk one hundred feet
To get our fresh clean water from standpipes in the street
Still we find it easy to-drink, three litres every day
Perhaps more importantly, the sewage goes away
[]
Need a million Afrique boreholes in the next ten years
So just for a moment, lay aside YOUR water fears
Remember people using begnoir, the siwar and the kotc
Perhaps we should consider changing our approach
[Three miles we walk each day, under the burning sun
To collect our muddy water, WHEN the rivers run
6,000 die each day from water that's unclean
Please can you tell us what water shortage means
Three miles we walk each day, under the burning sun
To collect our muddy water, WHEN the rivers run
6,000 die each day from water that's unclean
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6. |
Memories
03:02
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Memories
Ken Punshon
2009
What did we used to do dear
Where did we used to go
I can't remember anything
But still would like to know
[The faculties are fading
The memories have all gone
The only thing to do then
Is sing a happy song]
The joys of spring and summer
And those of winter too
They must have been delightful
I only wish I knew
[]
Pleasures raising children
Of pets and christmas trees
All of these occasions
Hold no memories for me
[]
So what then of the future
The days still yet to come
I'll enjoy them as I live them
But memories will have none
[]
Now some of you may ask me
Why did I write this song
The reason's very simple
The reason...no it's gone
[]
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7. |
Winter's Grip
02:10
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Winter's Grip
Ken Punshon (2009)
Amber leaves are falling
The birds are flying home
Summer memories calling
Now that autumn's come
Foggy wisps are swirling
Moisture specks the boughs
Dewy droplets pearling
The spiders' webs like flowers
The evenings are a darkening
And fires are burning high
To winter we are harkening
The fields do empty lie
Christmas cheers us boldly
While snow and ice abound
New Year enters coldly
We scarcely hear a sound
Winter's fist is gripping
With frozen ground and sky
It seems life's hold is slipping
And everything will die
Winds are blowing strongly
Ice begins to thaw
Mists are taken wrongly
For frost's still at the door
Then come the first signs of the spring
With green shoots peeking through
Country sounds again do ring
The world has been renewed
Then come the first signs of the spring
With green shoots peeking through
Country sounds again do ring
The world has been renewed
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8. |
Fishergirl
03:04
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Fishergirl
Ken Punshon & Chris Pyam (2009)
There was a Dorset family, who fished across the seas
Tradition passed from man to man, for over three centuries
Henry Miller started sailing, sold his fish upon the shore
He passed it on, to his son John, when he could fish no more
John's son John did start upon, the searching for the fish
Another Henry, son of John, carried on the family wish
Joseph, and his son Edwin, continued on the same
Selling fish thru merchants, but in the Miller name
Power arrived when Charles, his son, took on this arduous chore
He scoured the seas with memories, of those who'd gone before
The next of them to go to sea, his boat called Silver Foam
Was Charles's son, Jim by name, across the seas he'd roam
Three decades ago, the next one, Joe, did start upon the brine
Set the crab and lobster pots, caught fish upon the line
In recent years they've sold their fish, from a shop in Lulworth Cove
And on the wall there hangs a chart, listing those who've roved
Now's come a time, when only son, a lad by name Levi
Don't want to fish; tradition's lost, and finally might die
Come the time, come the lass, his sister will sail the main
The first female to go to sea, in the Miller name
She's sailed for years, with her dad, and fishing's got her caught
As good a job as any man, that's how she has been taught
She knows the boats, she knows the ropes, she loves the rushing spray
She already helps for a couple of hours, after school each day
But one sad fact you can't escape, with quotas and restrictions
Declining fish stocks make it hard, to keep up these traditions
When done with school Becci'll try, to weather out that storm
And keep the family heritage safe, for others not yet born
When done with school Becci'll try, to weather out that storm
And keep the family heritage safe, for others not yet born
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9. |
Gardening
03:40
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Gardening
Chris Pyam & Ken Punshon (2009)
Wood smoke drifting past
The hours are creeping, not so fast
Glassses of red wine can make me see
Butterflies patterned wings
Bumble bees with their stings
The garden carries on ignoring me
A robin flutters by
The garden fountain bubbles high
Woodpeckers are cutting down a tree
Pairs of dragonflies
Mating all their short lives
Water boatmen rowing on their sea
Hedgehogs snort and snuffle
Sparrows' feathers always ruffled
Ladybirds are trying to fly home
Fish are cruising, quiet and deep
A cat on mouse, stealthy leap
Frogs are hopping round the garden gnome
Snails do rush around
Worms are wriggling, on the ground
A fox was found, hanging from a fence
Leather jackets, under stones
Dog sniffing, at old bones
The spider keeps the fly in suspense
A heron watches, for a snack
The squirrel warns that he'll be back
To take the bacon pieces from the birds
Ants are marching in a file
And we know that in a while
The bats will come and feast, but not be heard
An eagle soaring high
Against the dazzling azure sky
Watches all the movement down below
How the gardens every one
Seem so peaceful in the sun
Is a mystery I'll never know
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10. |
Alcoholic
02:52
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Alcoholic
Ken Punshon & Chris Pyam (2010)
[Eyes blink at the ceiling
Brain inside is reeling
Body has no feeling
Another morning comes]
Once her life had meaning
But then the children leaving
Stopped her self-believing
Soon the problem comes
[]
Struggles to stand steady
Credit card is ready
To purchase potions heady
Waiting 'til it comes
[]
Could not make the meetings
Rarely got a greeting
Husband he was cheating
Still the pain it comes
[]
Stands there in the morning
Nearly ends up falling
Voice is plaintive calling
Hoping someone comes
[]
Daily lives in hell
Sober for a spell
But that's all very well
When no one comes
[]
Now crying for her son
After all he's done
He couldn't save his mum
Even when he comes
[]
Shuffles to the corner
Noone tries to warn her
Noone even mourns her
Now that she has gone!!
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11. |
Painted Lady
02:08
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Painted lady
Ken Punshon (2009)
Painted lady, why you cry
For you did surely try
As Madam Butterfly
Fluttering round the stage
Finding salvation soaked in gin
Not knowing how to begin
Convinced you can never win
Trying to escape your cage
Now you sit there dabbing your face
Saving just the smallest trace
Of the fading grace
That you have lost with age
But you have character still
With a forceful will
Your life to fulfill
Not just to earn a wage
Now you know you're going to sing
Open your voice, give it wing
Searching for the applause it brings
When your soul's engaged
Oh the splendour of that sight
Sparkling voice, glittering light
Everyone remembers that night
When the world you upstaged
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12. |
River of Life
05:44
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River of Life
Ken Punshon & Chris Pyam (2010)
[Oh sweet Nile, how wonderous thy flow
Watering our land, ensuring our crops grow
Sustaining us in ages past
You still provide today]
Silt comes down from Ethiop
That annual bounty gave us hope
Meeting the white Nile at Khartoum
Then the river flowing on
[]
Nubian loop where the cateracts'
Treacherous narrows navigation detracts
But still the crops are watered there
From the river flowing past
[]
As-wan dam has tamed the flood
But stops the ancient gift of mud
Many problems it has caused
But power is flowing on
[]
Moun-tains red, glowing to the west
Where tombs are hid where bodies rest
The tourists still pay homage today
As their boats go sailing on
[]
Sun beats down whilst you feed our land
Narrow green strip midst the rolling sand
Felucca and dhow in balmy wind
Blowing back through time
[]
Cai-ro town then the delta green
Where rich fauna and flora are seen
Home of stately papyrus
That history wrote upon
[]
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13. |
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When The Coffins Come Home
Chris Pyam & Ken Punshon (2010)
[The notes are appearing in windows and doors
Another flight's schedule is known
And everyone asks how many more will there be
Carrying so many of the coffins back home]
The big plane is coming from far overseas
Bringing the soldiers back home
But not for them the triumphal march
Just a lonely engraved headstone
[]
Pallbearers move slowly down from the plane
As the Last Post sounds (out) its knell
Then carefully the coffin is placed in the hearse
Carrying the body of the last one who fell
[]
People wait quietly, tears in their eyes
The community stands as a whole
Daddy it says there in roses blood red
St Bartholomew's bells start to toll
[]
Many just hold their hands on their hearts
As the soldiers go on to their graves
The families now know their loss has been seen
Perhaps it might help them be brave?
[]
It happened by chance, just three years ago
When first they saluted the dead
But now as the cortege comes past through their town
Everyone stands and lowers their head
[]
Just a small market town, a very large heart
Once again saying farewell
They don't want the TV, they don't want the fame
They'd rather stop ringing the bells
[]
Carrying so many of the coffins back home
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Thursday's Child UK
Thursday's Child was born on a Monday (August Bank Holiday 2009)!
Chris Pyam and
Ken Punshon got together to try out a couple of ideas for songs. That afternoon they created about eight songs; since then over 100 more have emerged, with a few more 'bubbling away'.
Heather Dunn joined us in Nov 13 to contribute additional harmonies during the creation of our third album (Carry My Thoughts).
... more
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