Bow

Of your yellow hair, oh, I will fashion a bow
To scrape out a tune on your heart.
Of your long fingernails I will fashion ten quills
To pluck on your veins like a harp."

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

Bow as in bows & arrows

See Armed Conflict

Bow as in bow & curtsey

And the boy of blazing brow on the rood, on the rood
And the boy of blazing brow on the rood
And the boy of blazing brow before whom every knee must bow
And the boy of blazing brow on the rood

I Saw the Boy of Blazing Brow Take to Rood Like Groom to Bride, unreleased

Chord

What cares the wren for the jinx of rhinic [?]
Or the plain of cadence for the dominant chord?
Or the dull munlo for the high cathedral?
Or the insown hero for the dormant lord?

What Cares the Crow for the Plaint of Lapwing? unreleased

And when will you return again
Tell to me my new found brother
When chords consent to songs' intent
Like siren child and happy mother

The End of Breeding, unreleased

Composer

Now the age has come to rust, we've seen the death of wonder
Now we rob graverobber's graves and redisplay the plunder
And we fill some dead composer's staves with irony and thunder

Ned Ludd's Rant (for a World Rebarbarised), Spoils

Drum

I fell in love with the roll of her drum,
Fell in love with her horn's blaring noise.
And I fell in love with her lute's gentle strum,
And I fell in love with her voice.
....
"I will squeeze your lungs like the bellows of an organ,
And blow on your bones like the pipes.
With a rat-a-tat-tat on your skull like a drum,
A rat-a-tat-tat on your skull.

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

The sound of our music is shrouded in linen
The pipe and the drum under cold iron sway
Venerable Ossian and noble MacCrimmon
Will lay down the weapons and soon pass away

The Merry Wake, unreleased

Fiddle

Then by there came a fiddling taylor
By there came a tayloring fiddler
By there came a fiddling taylor down among the hawthorn
O-ho! Who ever heard of a fiddling taylor?
Who ever heard of a tayloring fiddler?
Oh who among you ever heard of a fiddling taylor
Especially down among some hawthorn

The fiddler, he struck a note upon his fiddle
And as he played, he swirled around
He swirled and swirled and swirled and swirled around!
And as he played, I came unstuck
...
Oh, you, you could have scathed me, but you saved me
You could have fiddled me further in
You could have scathed me, but you saved me
Barely even trying
Why was that?

The Ruby in the Hawthorn, unreleased

Guitar

That's only what this old guitar puts into my mouth

Ned Ludd's Rant (For a World Rebarbarised), Spoils

Harp

Of your yellow hair, oh, I will fashion a bow
To scrape out a tune on your heart.
Of your long fingernails I will fashion ten quills
To pluck on your veins like a harp"

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

And in the balcony so high
Men of avarice rushing by
And when I asked they gave a sigh
"We're all looking for our legs"
And in the dining hall so long
The shackled harper sang her song
And the stone-eared feasters sang along
They sang "we're all looking for our legs"

Unyoked Oxen Turn, Spoils

It is the wound unstaunchable
It is the healthy woman sailing
It is the ship unlaunchable
And yet forever doomed to sailing
And also the harp of triple song liberator lancer and marauder
And also the axe of double blade cleaving in and- in between disorder

The Yarn Unraveller, The Wyrd Meme

Strike the bray harp, strike up the bray harp
Strike the harp and let the wires breathe
Strike up the harp and raise your tiny voices
In Homeric hymns to mitochondrial Eve
Homeric hymns to mitochondrial Eve

The Sacred Nine and the Primal Horde, Revenge of the Folksingers

Horn

Oh Thomas and Bartleby, Gareth and John,
Ryan and Warren, and Hector and Horace,
Come follow, come follow, the musical horns
Link arms and join our lusty chorus

Join Our Lusty Chorus, Farewell Sorrow

I fell in love with the roll of her drum,
Fell in love with her horn's blaring noise.
And I fell in love with her lute's gentle strum,
And I fell in love with her voice.

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

!!!Possibly not a musical horn
Now knife is in chest, poison in horn
Famine and pest and babies unborn
Knife is in chest, poison in horn
Famine and pest and babies unborn

What Cares the Crow for the Plaint of Lapwing?, unreleased

Lute

I fell in love with the roll of her drum,
Fell in love with her horn's blaring noise.
And I fell in love with her lute's gentle strum,
And I fell in love with her voice.

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

Melody

Polly lay over, so close to the wall,
When I opened my mouth for to sing.
And my throat could not stall the melodious call,
My words in the chamber did ring:

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

And the larks sang melodious, Polly,
At the dawning of the day.
And they only know the one song, Polly,
But they sing it wondrously.

I Went Hunting, Farewell Sorrow

As I roved out one Shrovetide Eve
Among the bramble and the cloudberry
It's then I heard a melody
A-blowing over the Northern Sea:
The song of the old men of the shells

The Old Men of the Shells, The Amber Gatherers

Music, musical

Oh Thomas and Bartleby, Gareth and John,
Ryan and Warren, and Hector and Horace,
Come follow, come follow, the musical horns.
Link arms and join our lusty chorus

Join Our Lusty Chorus, Farewell Sorrow

The man was me, the groan my own
Then they moaned and came and cried
And raised their voices in Dark Triad
Saying "the music of our tethered sphere
Is only silence failing
It's mere distraction, mere veneer
While we ‘wait the great unveiling"

So Bored was I (Dark Triad), Spoils

The sound of our music is shrouded in linen
The pipe and the drum under cold iron sway
Venerable Ossian and noble MacCrimmon
Will lay down the weapons and soon pass away

The Merry Wake, unreleased

Organ

"I will squeeze your lungs like the bellows of an organ,
And blow on your bones like the pipes.
With a rat-a-tat-tat on your skull like a drum,
A rat-a-tat-tat on your skull.

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

Piano

And the one with whom I broke a bed vow
Her head inclines to the piano
There upon her neck so narrow
I lay a first fragmenting kiss

The Hidden Sin, unreleased

Pipe

"I will squeeze your lungs like the bellows of an organ,
And blow on your bones like the pipes.
With a rat-a-tat-tat on your skull like a drum,
A rat-a-tat-tat on your skull.

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

The sound of our music is shrouded in linen
The pipe and the drum under cold iron sway
Venerable Ossian and noble MacCrimmon
Will lay down the weapons and soon pass away

The Merry Wake, unreleased

Rhythm

When Boreas at last relents and the sun again is shining
We'll let the rhythm guide the sense, the sense misguide the rhyming

Hyperboreans, A Selection of Marches, Quicksteps, Laments, Strathspeys Reels and Country Dances

Sing, singing

Sportsmen, arouse! The morning is clear.
The larks are singing all in the air.

Join Our Lusty Chorus, Farewell Sorrow

Polly lay over, so close to the wall,
When I opened my mouth for to sing.
And my throat could not stall the melodious call,
My words in the chamber did ring:

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

And the larks sang melodious, Polly,
At the dawning of the day.
And they only know the one song, Polly,
But they sing it wondrously

And the beauty of the singing,
All along the valley ringing,
And the beauty of the singing
Stayed my hand.

I Went Hunting, Farewell Sorrow

And she gave me the wreath and she sang like a starling,
My fingers intwined in her feathery hair,
But she shrugged me away and said Alasdair, darling,
When a song's on the wind it belongs to the air.
....
See Polly, she sings as she sits at the spinning wheel.
Mary, she sings as she skips with her rope.
Jonny, he sings as he fetches the herring creel
And Billy, he sings as he rolls down the slope.

And the whole house is singing, The whole house is singing,
The rafters are ringing, and the timbers are thrown,
The whole house is singing, the whole house is singing,
And I overhear them, and this is their song.

The Whole House is Singing, Farewell Sorrow

I can do nothing but fly in the wake of my kin.
I will soar onward undaunted and die on the wing.
I'll die in the canyon of echoes; you'll still hear me sing,
And still I will give to you all the things I bring.

Waxwing, The Amber Gatherers

And though the words they sang were few
They had the ring of something true
I listened long and began to sing
They way the unfledged bird takes the wing
I sang with the old men of the shells

I cast around to find my tune
Thinking to sing the song all alone
But wise words on a foolish tongue
Howsoever sweet they be sung
They jangle like the brassy bells of hell
They'll never please the old men of the shells

The Old Men of the Shells, The Amber Gatherers

Men of avarice rushing by
And when I asked they gave a sigh
"We're all looking for our legs"
And in the dining hall so long
The shackled harper sang her song
And the stone-eared feasters sang along
They sang "we're all looking for our legs"

Unyoked Oxen Turn, Spoils

In every room an open tomb
In every tomb a broken ossuary
Singing over the low low coom
Screaming over the high prairie

The Royal Road at the World's End, The Wyrd Meme

The chandler his tallow,
The farmer his fallow,
The fletcher his feather,
The cobbler his leather,
Taverners and hostellers
And every trade now lost to us
Singing:

"Sleeping lord, oh sleeping lord
Father of the primal horde

The Sacred Nine and the Primal Horde, Revenge of the Folksingers

It's of an untrue womb I sing
Wherein I find my mother
The untrue womb where all the plagues
Of all the ages gather

The Untrue Womb, First Edition

The lily in the lochen and the rowan by the clacken
The gowan and the bracken in the heather by the shore
The clamour of the gannetry, the blatter of the grackle
The singing of the planet that no brother can ignore
The small birds of the outer air, the soarers in the stratosphere
A chorus of the ones who've seen beyond and gone before,
Sing on, sing on, sing on, sing on, sing on, sing on
Sing on, sing on, sing on, sing on, sing on, sing on

The ptarmigan stands by the well at the world's end
Hoping to sunder your song, a strong burden
Hoping to steal your own song from you, sparky
To silence your song of one million tongues
Now don't let them stolen your song from you, sparky
Why must you die, there's no lie in your lungs

Oh tiny wren, tiny wren, under the linden
Pondering in wonder the human conundrum
Tiny wren, tiny wren, under the linden
Pondering in wonder the human conundrum
Oh but something has stolen the song from you, sparky
Silenced your children, your girls and your boys
Now don't let them stall in the song from you, sparky
Why must we die? There's no lie in your voice

So sing, sing the mystagogue, the psychopomp, the twisted god
Within the cosmogonic egg, the maiden and the crone, crone, crone
Sing the friar of denial, the abbot of unreason

The Wheels of the World, unreleased

And come spring the birds will sing in the burning woodland
Cuckoo, coo, cuckoo, coooo, coooo
All through the livelong day and into the evening

The Loudness Wars, unreleased

When wind blows in to waken
the laverock in the blackthorn
She sings of all the aching
In her scotia of the ills

When rain pours down to quicken
The blackbird in the aspen
She sings of how we sicken
Of Breadalbane's rolling hills

The Laverock in the Blackthorn, unreleased

While crooked and shawled we are combing
The shore for some grim tombstone feast
In rags and in robes we are roaming
Singing woe to the rein of the beast

The Year of the Burning, unreleased

Song

And the larks sang melodious, Polly,
At the dawning of the day.
And they only know the one song, Polly,
But they sing it wondrously

I Went Hunting, Farewell Sorrow

And she gave me the wreath and she sang like a starling,
My fingers intwined in her feathery hair,
But she shrugged me away and said Alasdair, darling,
When a song's on the wind it belongs to the air.
....
And the whole house is singing, The whole house is singing,
The rafters are ringing, and the timbers are thrown,
The whole house is singing, the whole house is singing,
And I overhear them, and this is their song.

The Whole House is Singing, Farewell Sorrow

As I roved out one Shrovetide Eve
Among the bramble and the cloudberry
It's then I heard a melody
A-blowing over the Northern Sea:
The song of the old men of the shells
...
And though the words they sang were few
They had the ring of something true
I listened long and began to sing
They way the unfledged bird takes the wing
I sang with the old men of the shells

I cast around to find my tune
Thinking to sing the song all alone
But wise words on a foolish tongue
Howsoever sweet they be sung
They jangle like the brassy bells of hell
They'll never please the old men of the shells

The Old Men of the Shells, The Amber Gatherers

Men of avarice rushing by
And when I asked they gave a sigh
"We're all looking for our legs"
And in the dining hall so long
The shackled harper sang her song
And the stone-eared feasters sang along
They sang "we're all looking for our legs"

Unyoked Oxen Turn, Spoils

Here's the dowry of the leper
A walnut shell and a peck of pepper
And an alder spray to carve a quiver
For a gang of hazel dowsers
They dowsed themselves into a tangle
Called themselves a hazel bush
They snarled so sweet and incomplete
That they stole the heart of a little song thrush

Hazel Forks, Spoils

It is the wound unstaunchable
It is the healthy woman sailing
It is the ship unlaunchable
And yet forever doomed to sailing
And also the harp of triple song liberator lancer and marauder
And also the axe of double blade cleaving in and- in between disorder
What sisterhood has joined together no brother feud can ever sever
And when will you come back again

The Yarn Unraveller, The Wyrd Meme

The ptarmigan stands by the well at the world's end
Hoping to sunder your song, a strong burden
Hoping to steal your own song from you, sparky
To silence your song of one million tongues
Now don't let them stolen your song from you, sparky
Why must you die, there's no lie in your lungs

Oh tiny wren, tiny wren, under the linden
Pondering in wonder the human conundrum
Tiny wren, tiny wren, under the linden
Pondering in wonder the human conundrum
Oh but something has stolen the song from you, sparky
Silenced your children, your girls and your boys
Now don't let them stall in the song from you, sparky
Why must we die? There's no lie in your voice

So sing, sing the mystagogue, the psychopomp, the twisted god
Within the cosmogonic egg, the maiden and the crone, crone, crone
Sing the friar of denial, the abbot of unreason

The Wheels of the World, unreleased

This song's made in anger, this song's made in love
Where the croak of the hawk meets the coo of the dove
Where minstrels see slander and right turns to rage
To make a song about the renovation of the age
...
And joy to those who'd use their songs as clues to find their clan
And woe to those who'd use them to enslave their fellow man, or fellow woman

Song Composed in December, unreleased

Saying there welcome one to sow dischord as dragon teeth among all nations
To tear away your tawdry wreaths and dream to dry all your libations
The plunder within my abandoned room is nothing but fairy treasure
And know that soon come the day of doom
They'll come to cut my sprawling song to measure

Bring Me the Glass, unreleased

Her carnal song unbridles vice
And brings her father to despair
With phantom limbs of antichrist
Sprawled on endless sulphur air
...
And when will you return again
Tell to me my new found brother
When chords consent to songs' intent
Like siren child and happy mother

The End of Breeding, unreleased

Stave

Now the age has come to rust, we've seen the death of wonder
Now we rob graverobber's graves and redisplay the plunder
And we fill some dead composer's staves with irony and thunder

Ned Ludd's Rant (for a World Rebarbarised), Spoils

Tune

Of your yellow hair, oh, I will fashion a bow
To scrape out a tune on your heart.
Of your long fingernails I will fashion ten quills
To pluck on your veins like a harp."

I Fell in Love, Farewell Sorrow

I cast around to find my tune
Thinking to sing the song all alone
But wise words on a foolish tongue
Howsoever sweet they be sung
They jangle like the brassy bells of hell
They'll never please the old men of the shells

The Old Men of the Shells, The Amber Gatherers