Get all 28 David A. Harley releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Brookland Voices, The Road, In a Folkier Vein, Swan Songs, So Sound You Sleep (More Tears of Morning), Seven Years In The Sand (single), Nobody's Song, Marking Time - The 3rd Demo Album, and 20 more.
1. |
Ten Percent Blues
03:42
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Got a seat facing the engine
So I don’t have to face where I’ve been
Luggage on the rack, no reason to look back
At all my wrecked and reckless vagrant dreams
No more bright lights, no more white lines
Or crashing in the back of the van
No more hustling small-time gigs
I guess time has beaten the band
No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home
Got a ticket to take me to tomorrow
It can’t be worse than today
So driver, take me home and don’t spare the horsepower
I’m on a ten year holiday
No more missed chances and chickenfeed advances
Cold chips in the back of the van
No more blown tires and fuses, no more broken promises
Time has beaten the band
No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home
No more spotlights, no more ups and downers
Absolutely no stage fright
No more superstar fantasies
From today I’m strictly 9-5
No more infighting, no more moonlighting
No more one-night stands
All along while the band was beating time
I guess time was beating the band
No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home
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2. |
The Road
03:34
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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
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3. |
Marking Time
01:38
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We both know the lines and we both know the score
And we sit drinking scotch with no time for no more
The time shuffles past like a drunk in a bar
Our hands meet and lock, trying to cover the scar
And just like a sundial the shadow moves round
Helping to darken the good news we just found
Outside these four walls there’s another day’s rain
Inside our two minds another day’s pain
Now down the road walking, our footsteps in rhyme
It seems for so long we’ve been just marking time
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4. |
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A trace of your scent still lingers on my pillow
And raises echoes in my memory
And I believe you’re missing me almost as much as I miss you
But I wish to God you could be here with me
The sun will surely rise on another soft blue morning
And lying in your arms is where I’ll be
With sweet dreams still in my eyes I’ll wake and kiss your hair
But it’s a long, cold night while you’re not here with me
This guitar once played for keeps, but since you changed my life
This guitar just plays for you, if that’s OK?
This guitar rang bells for losers, but there’ll be no more songs of losing
Though this guitar just plays the blues while you’re away
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5. |
The Last Musketeer
02:31
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Now that the war is over
And the battles are all lost and won
The glasses are raised and the caterers praised
And the happy couple are gone
Bound for the sun on a honeymoon cruise
And nobody knows where they are
The last musketeer has traded his sword
For a mortgage and family car
All the words like ‘forever’ are spoken
Though the meaning’s not always quite clear
The wine and the song have together run dry
And the last of the guests disappeared
And mum and dad take a look at themselves
Now the last of the nestlings has flown
The last musketeer takes stock of his life
Amazed at the new thing he’s found
And a lifetime away from just yesterday
Well on the way to elsewhere
En route for tomorrow they pause to shake
Confetti out of their hair
The treaties are signed and the campaign is won
And another skirmish begins
The bride smiles and the last musketeer
Takes a look at ‘forever’
And grins…
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6. |
Orpheus with his Loot
02:27
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I used to push pens in the City
Being paid to milk someone's cash cow
I once served my time at a dollar a line
But that's not the job I do now
A seducer wants words for a lady
A sonnet to melt her cold heart
Though he orders a charm that will open her arms
Cupid's quiver is empty of darts
The clown wants some words to divert you
And asks me to build him some jests
A wink and a nudge, to distract a harsh judge
But that's not the job I do best
The emperor assumes that I love him
This bully, this man without shame
He commands me to praise all the lies he portrays
From his seat on the gravy train
Friends of the Fancy, nose to the trough
Trade their vast profits for pain
I can buy with sweet notes my way onto the lifeboat
If I comfort these grandsons of Cain
The rats have abandoned this Ship of Fools
The saints have forgotten to pray
Orpheus counts loot that he earned licking boots
But his tongue is silent today
And this is my text for today
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7. |
What Do I Do (About You)
02:05
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I can write the first line at 2.45
And finish the song by 5 to…
I can write an opera in an hour and a half
But what do I do about you?
I can play the Minute Waltz
In 35 seconds flat
But I can’t seem to get you out of my head
So what do I do about that?
Sometimes I fly gliders or water-ski
Before making breakfast for two
From my own recipes
(of course you’ve read my books?)
But what do I do about you?
I can make cocktails like you’ve never seen
Ask anyone – I can do
Things with an olive you’d never believe
– But what do I do about you?
I can build a cocktail with a sting like an asp
Pernod, tequila and lime
Crushed ice and soda – now it’s almost done
Buddy where’s the grenadine?
I can build furniture, drive racing cars
I’ve painted a mural or two
But I can’t seem to get you to remember my name
So what do I do about you?
What do I do about you?
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8. |
Rain
03:43
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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
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?
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?
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9. |
Paper City
05:46
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I woke up with my mind’s eye facing your direction:
I looked hard and I saw you needed help.
You’re choking on paper and tape and legislation,
But you can’t produce one thing to help yourself.
(Ch.) Paper city at the heart of a paper empire:
You’ve got strings to pull, you’ve got wires all over the earth.
Sky-climbing parasite, concrete and paper jungle,
You’ve got money to burn, but I know you’d rather freeze to death.
You’ve got stacks of stocks and shares and bonds:
You’ve got telephone and telex,databank and dateline too.
But you can’t produce as much as one lead pencil,
Or a bar of soap, or a rubber band to pull you through.
The media twitch at the flash of a freemason’s handshake:
Speeches are made and the punters gather round;
Paper politicians and faceless company men,
Taking the pulse of an ailing paper pound.
I bet you know just what you’re worth on paper:
When the market crumbles, what will that do to you?
So many cold people don’t own the earth they lie in:
Will you be all right in your green-lined paper tomb?
Paper city at the heart of a bankrupt empire:
Your towers get higher as your assets hit new lows.
Nose-diving parasite, I wouldn’t mind you dying,
But you’ll take so many with you when you go.
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10. |
Snowbird
04:44
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11. |
Swift Variations
02:11
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12. |
The Wild Swans at Coole
06:17
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The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.
The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.
I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.
But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?
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13. |
Cornish Ghosts
03:49
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Close to where I stand on Trecobben
Pilgrims walk St. Michael's Way
Few today 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 in 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
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14. |
Hilltop Snapshots
03:38
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In this photograph we’re walking
Among the Devon tors
Every vista made us think
We might just manage one hill more
But the sun was sinking fast
And it was time for food and beer
Happily, it was all downhill from there
In this snapshot I'm walking
With the baby on my back
Though I swore she’d gained an ounce or two
With every foot of Lakeland track
But the view was worth the trek
As she chuckled in my ear
And anyway. it was all downhill from there
Up here on this hilltop
I could almost touch the sun
As it rose from the sea
A fresh-rinsed day had just begun
The view was worth the climb
And home was still quite near
And anyway, it’s all downhill from here
There’s another golden sky
The sunset paints behind the hill
Today the path’s too steep to walk
I wonder when I ever will?
With the clarity of hindsight
I can see my last few years
The trouble is, it’s all downhill from here!
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15. |
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In spring a young man’s fancy is supposed to turn to love
An older man takes time to reminisce
He takes the path from Helford on a sunny afternoon
Searching once again for Frenchman’s Creek
Too soon for love-lies-bleeding, too late for love’s young dream
The sun plays peek-a-boo among the trees
By the gate at Kestle Barton, he stops to rest a while
Before following the signs to Frenchman’s Creek
Sometimes we lose our bearings, our love lost in a mist
We glimpse our Ithaca but doubt laps at our feet
Sweet 16 to 70, too many times been kissed
Was that the road to Manderley or Frenchman’s Creek?
Left high and dry so often by the tides of desire
Yet in autumn days a heart may rise from sleep
And still recall with thanks the times love wasn’t such a liar
And the tide may turn again in Frenchman’s Creek
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16. |
Song of Chivalry
03:58
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When M’Lord returned to his sheets of silk
And his gentle lady of musk and milk
The minstrels sang in the gallery
Their songs of slaughter and chivalry
The rafters roared with laughter and boasting
Beakers were raised and drained in toasting
The heroes of Crécy and Azincourt
Or the madness of some holy war
The hawk is at rest on the gauntlet once more
Savage of eye, and bloody of claw
Famine and fever are all the yield
Of the burnt-out barns and wasted fields
The sun grins coldly through the trees
The children shiver, the widows grieve
And beg their bread at the monastery door
Tell me then: who won the war?
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David A. Harley England, UK
David Harley is a former professional musician, administrator, IT security editor, author and researcher, and former much else that is even less impressive. He now lives in Cornwall. More info at whealalice.com
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