Folk music news

The flowers in the valley all bloomed today as one
And the people of the parish woke to find
That summer was out walking like he’s never been away
And all the world was in a joyful mind

-Jon Boden, Under their Breath

Oh the Prickle Eye Bush
That pricks my heart for sore
And if ever I get out of this Prickle Eye Bush
Then I never will get in it any more

Bellowhead

Caught between the air and the windless deep
you float like a lily flower
and you look just like you fell to earth to sleep
and you’re waiting for your waking hour

Seed, bud, flower, fruit
they’re never gonna grow without their roots
branch, stem , shoots - they need roots.

Show of Hands

For shelter and shade has the oak tree grown
the ship the cradle the hearth and home
arms so strong they hold the sky
stood so long that the heart can’t die

The Oak.
Show of Hands.

A Country round my shoulders
It’s a flag raised on a gallows tree
I won’t let it get me down

Kris Drever, John McCusker and Ruddy Woomble
The Poorest Company

In the hearts of the children
A pure love still grows
Like a bright star in heaven
That lights our way home
Like the flower that shattered the stone

John Denver
The flower that shattered the stone

Won’t you buy my sweet blooming lavender
There are 16 blue branches a 1p all in full bloom
You buy them once
You buy them twice
They makes your clothes all smell nice.

Lavender
Lisa Knapp

You’ll remember me when the west wind blows
Among the fields of barley.........

There were roses, roses
There were roses
And the tears of the people ran together

There were roses
Cara Dillon

Said he, ’My pretty maid, what brings you here this way,
Oh, have you come to rob my flowers so gay?’
She says, ’No thief I am, but I am in search of some young man,
Who promised that he’d meet me here tonight.’

Martin Carthy/Trad, The Bloody Gardener

They both went out together in the Monday mist,
She never saw it coming, waiting at his wrist,
He struck her swiftly and she fell right down,
Flowers grew around her a body never found.

Whenever you’re walking out in the snow,
Think of poor Josie all on her own,
Wherever those flowers stand out unknown,
Youll be steppin’ on her gravestone

As I passed by a willow tree, willow tree
That willow leaf blew down on me
I picked it up, it would not break
I passed my love, he would not speak

-Eliza Carthy

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