Harvest - songs and tunes appreciaaative of Nature

The sound samples are from the most representative section of a track. The times listed are the total track time, not the length of the sample! The samples range from one to two minutes in length.

THE BARLEY SONG 2:37
England

The personification of Nature spirits is prevalent throughout mythology. Here the different grains are given various human attributes with the barley being the most stalwart and reliable.

Taylor Whiteside - violin

Oh, come out. 'Tis now September, the hunter's moon be gone
And through the wheat and stubble is heard the frequent gun
All the leaves are turning yellow and kindling into red
And the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down his head.

All among the barley, who would not be blithe
When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling on the scythe

Oh, the wheat is like a rich man that's sleek and well-to-do
And the oats are like a pack of girls, laughing and dancing, too
While the rye is like a miser who's sulky, lean and small
And the ripe and bearded barley is monarch of them all

Oh the Spring is like a young girl who doesn't know her mind
And the Summer is a tyrant of most ungracious kind
While the Autumn's like an old friend who helps one all he can
And he brings the bearded barley to glad the heart of man

COME BY THE HILLS 3:22
© Gordon Smith, BBC

One of the most enticing invitations ever written, it was originally composed for a BBC documentary and has since passed into tradition

Dennis Jumper - Uilleann pipes

Oh come by the hills to a land where fancy is free
And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the rocks meet the sea
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is gold in the sun
And the cares of tomorrow shall wait till this day is done.

Oh come by the hills to a land where life is a song
And sing with the birds in the air as they sing all day long
Where the trees sway in time and even the breeze sings a tune
And the cares of tomorrow shall wait till this day is done.

Oh come by the hills to the land where legend still lives
Where stories of old fill the heart and may yet come again
Where the past has been run and the future is yet to be won
And the cares of tomorrow shall wait till this day is done

FARAWAY TOM 3:50
© 1964 Dave Goulder, Scotland

Dave tells me this was originally inspired by the traveling men who passed through Achnashellach in the far north of Scotland. I learnt it though the folk process however, with the last verse omitted, giving the impression of a timeless wood spirit in the tradition of Robin Goodfellow. Dave has kindly allowed me this interpretation but I include the last verse here fot the record.

When the calendar brings in the cuckoo
And the season comes following on
In the fine mists of day see hin running away
And they know him as Faraway Tom

The earth is his bed and his pillow
And his sheets are the clothes he has on
He sleeps all afternoon then goes hunting the moon
As it rises on Faraway Tom

He sees the fox leaving his hollow
And he knows where the badger has gone
He watches the fawn in the sheltering thorn
But they don't see old Faraway Tom

He knows nothing of letters and learning
And of manners and such he has none
But he counts all the seasons on fingers and toes
As they pass over Faraway Tom

(And what of the winters that follow?
Will age and cold winds bring him down?
And where will he lie when snow fills the skye
And the years tell on Faraway Tom?)

THE ASH GROVE 2:41
Wales

The prescence of the trees always provides solace and refreshment for the weary spirit and may return one to a childlike wonder and awareness.

The ash grove how graceful, how plainly 'tis speaking
The harp through it playing has language for me
Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
A host of kind faces is gazing at me
The friends of my childhood once more are before me
Each step marks a memory as freely I roam
With soft whispers laden the leaves rustle o're me
The ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home

When my lips smile no more and my heart loses its lightness
No dreams of the future my spirit can cheer
I come to the ash grove with its green, leafy brightness
The hope of my heart is again living here
My friends from the shadows deep forward to greet me
I lift up my eyes to the towering dome
And others are there leaning forward to meet me
The ash grove,the ash grove alone is my home

DAFT ROBIN (ROBIE DONUA) 2:17
Scotland

From the collection of the famed Scottish fiddler, Neil Gow (1727-1807) listed simply as "an old Highland song". I have not unearthed ant lyrics but have arranges the basic tune for harp.

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 3:18
© 1991 Julia Lane BMI

There are many old homes in New England abandoned due to hard economic times. My son and I found this place whilst hiking through the woods in back of our house.

Fred Gosbee - low whistle

High on a hill overlooking the bay a lovely old house stands alone
Acres and acres of forest and files bordered by walls made of stone
Northern lights dance all across the night sky glowing with millions of stars
Waterfalls run and apple trees bloom at the house on the hill in my heart

Someone admired the place where it stands, this hill overlooking the sea
And timber by timber, with strong loving hands, a beautiful home came to be
Fires for warming the body and soul smoldered at night on the hearth
Waterfalls run and apple trees bloom at the house on the hill in my heart

The barn is now gone, the fields are unmoved, the people have all gone away
And season on season of sunlight and snow have weathered the clapboards to grey
Talk in the town is of tearing it down; dividing the hillside apart
But waterfalls run and apple trees bloom at the house on the hill in my heart

LAMENT FOR THE WILD SHORE 2:33
© 1990 Julia Lane

The loss of a treasured unspoiled place can be as moving as the departure of a loved one. Real estate development is taking its toll along the Maine coast; places once open for play or reverie are now subdivisions, fenced and closed.

MONHEGAN 2:35
© 1990 Julia Lane

Monhegan is a rocky jewel of an island three miles long and half a mile wide. There is a community of hardy fisherfolk, descendants of early European explorers, but the primary inhabitants are seals and seabirds. A forest of evergreens crowns the 100-foot cliffs on the eastern side.

Fred Gosbee - pennywhistle
Gary Clancy - guitar

I could fly from your high cliffs, I feel as if I'm lighter than air
And far below in the clear green waves
The somersaulting seals fish and play as they go
Flying through the sea.

Oh Monhegan, oh Monhegan, deep and green is the song you sing.
Oh Monhegan, rock and ocean, oh Monhegan is calling me.

Soaring high an osprey brings her catch back to her nest in the tall and fragrant pines.
Beneath the moss brown roots are reaching deep and clinging to your rocky heart

SONG OF THE SEA 4:17
© 1991 Julia Lane

When walking on a windy beach, one cannot always tell whether the sounds are merely those of the wind, wave, and seabirds, or the song of the sea itself. This is a translation of a song I heard one September afternoon.

Southwest Wind - wind harp
Gulf of Maine - waves
Larus argentatus - gull choir

Seabird calling, gull wind laughing
Leave the tired shell on shore
Sun dance shining all are saying
Come to fly the waves once more.

Speckled eagle on the wing
From the ledge the seal-men sing
"Oh la lady lady loo
Oh la lady low"

Too long sighing, too long parted
From your ancient watery home
Come to singing, come to freedom
Once again the sea to roam

Deep and green the fishes throng
From the ledge the seal-men's song
"Oh la lady lady loo
Oh la lady low"

It is said that the only certain thing in life is change, but another poet said that the more things change, the more they stay the same! The concept of cycles was particularly important to the ancient Celts as evidenced by their spiral designs and the repetition of characters and ideas in story and song. This piece was originally inspired by the constantly changing New England weather but evolved into a broader idea as I played it.

THE SOUTHWIND 3:18
Ireland

I believe these lyrics were probably "written" although I have not discovered the author. I learnt it in the traditional way from friends at a late night gathering. Mayo, Connaught, and Munster are Irish place names.

Sharon Pyne - Irish flute

Oh Southwind of the gentle rain, you banish winter weather,
Bring salmon back to the pools again, the bees among the heather
If northward now you mean to go as softly you rustle above me
Godspeed be with you as you go and a kiss for those who love me

I come from south with velvet breeze, my world all nature blesses.
I melt the snow sand strew the trees with flowers and soft caresses.
I'll help you to dispel your woes, with joy I'll take your greeting
And speed it to my loved Mayo upon my wings so fleeting

Oh Connaught famed for wine and play, so gay, so leal, so loving
Here's my fond wish I'll send this day upon the wind and its roving.
These Munster folk are good and kind, right royally they treat me
But this land I'd gladly leave behind with my Connaught pipes to greet me.

This familiar, timeless aire has had over one hundred of lyrics over the centuries.

Fred Gosbee - recorder
Mark McNeil - cello

Oh Ireland fair, oh noble emerald lady
Set glowing like a jewel in the sea
Your ancient hills with beauty never fading
In spite of all that man has done to thee.
Where falcons fly through skies of brightest azure
And salmon run swift rivers to the sea
Where mountains rise in peaks of ageless grandeur
And blooming heather moorlands sing with gathering bees.

In ancient times the people knew your wisdom
They heard your voice in stream and rock and wind
Before their minds were bent on forming kingdoms
And all the beasts and birds were known as kin.
The minstrel bards still tell us of your glory
Though sounds of war obscure the ancient song
Oh may we hear aging your mystic glory
And may we live in peace and learn to sing along.

Harvest - Julia 1992