Wycoller Hall
Lyrics, music, guitar and vocals by Beck Siàn
Grey... hollow casements
Dark birds fly through
Wet... shattered walls
Of moss and mildew.
Sad... cold sky
And lonely, old stone
Damp... chilled air;
Dreams that have flown.
Silent are the fragments
Hushed are the leaves
Just the time-shattering cry
Of the rooks in the trees.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
The Black Silk Handkerchief
Based upon 'The Holland Handkerchief' (traditional)
Arranged/altered and adapted by Beck Siàn
Music by Beck Siàn and Steve Palmer
Vocals by Beck Siàn
A wealthy squire lived in our town
He was a man of high renown
He had one daughter, a beauty bright
And the name he called her was his Heart's Delight
Many young men to court her came
But none of them could her favour gain
Till there came one of the low degree
And above them all she did fancy he
But when her father he came to know
That his only daughter loved this young man so
Over fifty miles he sent her away
All to deprive her of her wedding day
One night as she lay in her bedroom
Her love appeared from out the gloom
He touched her hand and to her did say,
"Arise my darling and come away".
With this young man she got on behind
And they rode swifter than any wind
They rode on for five hours or more
Till he cried, "My darling, my head feels sore!"
A black silk handkerchief she then took out
And with it wrapped his aching head about
She kissed his lips and these words did say,
"My love you are colder than any clay".
When they arrived at her father's gate
He said, "Get down, love, for the hour is late!
Get down, get down, love, and go to bed
and I'll see this gallant horse is groomed and fed".
Then she arrived at her father's hall
"Who's there, who's there now?", her father called.
"'Tis I dear father, you sent for me
and my love was the messenger, was sent by thee".
"Oh no my daughter, that can never be
Your words are false and you lie to me
For on yonder mountain your young man died
And in yon green meadow his body lies".
The truth then dawned upon this lady brave
And with her friends they exposed the grave
There lay her love though nine months dead
With a black silk handkerchief tied 'round his head.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
The Moon on the 13th
Music by Steve Palmer
Lyrics and vocals by Beck Siàn
It's moonlit tonight
I can see my way
But I don't know where I'm going
Around a corner
Across the moors
A warm light shines
On dark stone walls
But who's within
& who's without?
& I feel alone
But I know
I'm not alone
There are footsteps behind me
Always
Footsteps behind me.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
Ye Olde Silent Inn
Lyrics, music, acoustic guitar and vocals by Beck Siàn.
On twisting roads
Through pale green I came
Ever-stretching pale green
And russet bracken
And heather-lined lanes
And the wind moaned as an old man
With arthritic knees
Bones creaking and rustling like leaves
And the wind... wuthers.
I enter the inn: it is warm within
Test the windows: check the doors
The locks are fast: the bolts are drawn
But whose little faces stare at me
From between the banisters?
Keep silent
Keep silent
And the wind... wuthers.
Rain rattles the window panes
Something glides just out of sight
A storm-whipped night
A storm-whipped night
It's a wicked night for one to be out on the moors
From whence come the bells?
From beneath the gnarled trees?
Or between the wind-blasted tussocks
And skeletal leaves?
And the wind... wuthers.
Inside the warm inn,
Long shadows fall
But who's that calling out on the moor?
A moth beats its grey, dusty wings against the glass
And the wind... wuthers.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
Down in Yon Forest
Traditional. Arranged/altered/adapted by Beck Siàn.
Vocals by Beck Siàn.
Down in yon forest there stands a hall
The phantom bells I heard them ring
It's covered all over in purple and pall
And I love my love above anything.
In that hall there stands a bed
The phantom bells I heard them ring
It's covered all over in scarlet and red
And I love my love above anything.
At the bed's foot there grows a thorn
The phantom bells I heard them ring
It flowers and blossoms at dusk and at dawn
And I love my love above anything.
Under that bed there runs a flood
The phantom bells I heard them ring
The half it runs water: the half it runs blood
And I love my love above anything.
Over that bed the moon shines bright
The phantom bells I heard them ring
I sense he is here again with me this night
And I love my love above anything.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
The Dark Stairs
Music by Chris Gill
Lyrics and vocals by Beck Siàn
The small flame falters
And I hesitate
Upon dark stairs
Old stairs made of ships' timber
Still groaning on the waves.
Flocked wallpaper dances
In the shifting light.
A swish of trailing garments
Chilling by
Somewhere a door opens
Slams shut again
Heavy steps creak the boards
A low voice murmurs
Psss-psss-psss
A dark shadow moans past.
(I'm brushing past you now
I'm brushing past you now).
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
The Moors
Music by Chris Gill
Lyrics and vocals by Beck Siàn.
Sensuous wind, foxy wind, you whip the sad skin from my face
Battered by you, my careworn soul sings, O mistress of this spirit place.
Toes in heather on the lonely moor, there's a hole in my heart and the wind moans through
Looking out on the lonely moor, there's a hole in my heart and the wind moans through
I am as wind-torn as that ravaged hawthorn
Yes, I am as wind-torn as that ravaged hawthorn.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions 2012
Lady of the Wind
Words by John Carder Bush (reprinted here by kind permission of John Carder Bush)
Vocals by Beck Siàn and John Carder Bush
Violin by Raven Bush
Music by Beck Siàn
The wind has the heart of a wicked child
That laughs and moans when she sings -
The wind will come to you whenever she is wild,
Just let her in, let her in.
When the wind blows, open your windows;
When the wind roars, pull her indoors,
For the wind is a person, pretty and fearsome,
With a force so vast she can haul down the past,
Or cast her whispers, like a gang of giggling sisters,
In a corner, in a nook, or across the pages of an open book.
Feel the wind as she snuffles at your skin,
In her playful haste she might just brush your face,
Taste your thoughts and what you've caught,
Then chase a hair left behind by someone fair,
Bare the covered table, like wind from a fable,
Or smash all your windows with a poke of her elbow.
Lasting just a beat, she clears away the heat
Of nights of summer passion, turned grey and ashen,
She fashions shapes from smoke of midnight tokes,
Long gone rotten, into ghosts best forgotten.
Cottons swirl and flap, water sprays across the tap
As she strokes your back, sighs and then goes slack.
Across the misted glass the wind is flying past -
Let her into your room, let her rattle and boom;
With a flick of her tail she'll scatter your mail,
With a toss of her mane she clears away rain,
With a thump of her knees she can flatten trees,
With a kiss of her lips she can blow us to bits.
Can you hear her Slamming all your doors,
Tugging at the bolts on all your winter stores,
Coming up the stairs and then across your floors
To try and open all your secret, hidden drawers?
Here comes that wind tapping with her salty paws,
Here comes that wind running along your corridors.
Tacking over the bedclothes she licks and throws
The silks of leisure over the creases of pleasure.
Treasure the lady of the wind for she whips away sin
With her sweeping fins flipping over edge and rim,
Scattering empty tins and knocking over your bins:
But to clean what has been, you must first let her in.
When the wind blows, open your windows;
When the wind roars, pull her indoors,
For the wind is a person, pretty and fearsome,
With a force so vast she can haul down your past,
Or cast her whispers, like a gang of giggling sisters,
In a corner, in a nook, or across the pages of an open book.
The wind has the heart of a wicked child
That laughs and moans when she sings -
The wind will come to you when she's wild,
Just let her in, let her in.
© Beck Siàn/Haunted Forest Productions/John Carder Bush 2012
Molly Malone
Traditional. Arranged/adapted by Beck Siàn.
Vocals by Beck Siàn.
In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"
She was a fishmonger and sure it was no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they both wheeled their barrows
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"
"A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!"
Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"
She died of a fever and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
Now her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"
"A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels alive a-live O!"