SONG LYRICS
THE GATHERING ALBUM, 2007 & 2026
All song lyrics © Marianne Segal
SEPTEMBER SONG
“Oh, once in a lifetime,” sang the empty wind
“September is the swan-song, farewell to morning dew.”
He was the last one, never no more
Shall all the birds sing, at her front door.
I’ll sing this one for Harry, who treads upon the moors
September comes to everyone; you are not alone.
He was the last one, never no more
Shall all the birds sing, at her front door.
Oh, choose what you want to, try what you will
Cold winds will harm you, don’t touch the morning dew.
Cruel is the winter, closing all around
Far away is spring song, without good company
Look into a crystal ball, see the passing years
Standing in the autumn rain, won’t hide the falling tears.
He was the last one, never no more
Shall all the birds sing, at her front door.
He was the last one, never no more
Shall all the birds sing, at her front door.
He was the last one, never no more
Shall all the birds sing, at her front door.
He was the last one, never no more
Shall all the birds sing, at her front door.
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CIRCLE ROUND THE SUN
Gifts of gold, are hard to come by
To decorate and make you happy
Gifts of gold are souvenirs
To tease, to tempt the spirit in you.
There was a man came to our land
Who said, “Love me and be free…
All that you need, all that I am
Is me, you must believe…
When you love, you really love
You don’t need no things like finery
And when you die, you die, you die
You only take what God has given you.”
What kind of man is this
Who sends a circle round the sun?
What kind of love is this
That goes on and on and on, and on?
What kind of man is this
Who sends a circle round the sun?
What kind of love is this
That goes on and on and on, and on?
“Can’t you see that I am love?
And love is God and God is good?
Take my words, I’ll pray for you
You just take my hand; I’ll wait for you.
Can’t you see that I am love?
And love is God and God is good?
Take my words, I’ll pray for you
You just take my hand; I’ll wait for you.
And when you love, you really love
You don’t need no things like finery
When you die, you die, you die
You only take what God has given you.
When you love, you really love
You don’t need no things like finery
When you die, you die, you die
You only take what God has given you.”
What kind of man is this
Who sends a circle round the sun?
What kind of love is this
That goes on and on and on and on?
What kind of man is this
Who sends a circle round the sun?
What kind of love is this
That goes on and on and on and on?
Round the sun…round the sun…
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ROOT PEOPLE
Down, down, down, down, down…
Root People, live in the ground
Root People, have wavy arms
Root People, grow flowers and leaves
Root People, have knobbly knees
Root People, yeah!
Root People, um wacka um
Live in the ground, tum te tum
Root People, um wacka um
Have wavy arms, tum te tum
Root People, um wacka um
Grow flowers and leaves, tum te tum
Root People, um wacka um
Have knobbly knees, tum te tum
Root People yeah!
Root People, Root People, Root People…
Tum te tum, a – yeah…
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SUSSEX DOWNS
Wood smoke is gently rising
As I wander home from work
The old, grey mare is weary
Dusty coat, shoes filled with dirt.
Weighed down, with ample pickings
Of golden apples from Sadie’s field
Now we walk by, Primrose Lane
With a slowness in our heels…
I’ve lived here and I’ve lived there; I must admit, I’ve liked to roam
Oh, but there’s nothing, like the smell of woodsmoke
As we walk, the Sussex Downs.
I see the robin on Martha’s wall
That I liken to, this life of mine
Bright colours and a tuneful song
As it hangs, from the columbine…
Well, I’ve lived here and I’ve lived there; I must admit, I’ve liked to roam
Oh, but there’s nothing, like the smell of woodsmoke
As we walk, the Sussex Downs.
I have seen the seasons turning, I have felt the pull of distant lands
But the sweetness of this life here, it calls my heart
To leave those travelling days behind…
And old Joe Crow, who never leaves my lawn
Except to feast, on the ripened corn…
Yes, old Joe Crow, who never leaves my lawn
Except to sleep, in the broken barn…
Well, I’ve lived here and I’ve lived there; I must admit I’ve liked to roam
But there’s nothing, like the smell of woodsmoke
As we walk, the Sussex Downs…
No there’s nothing like the smell of woodsmoke
As we walk, the Sussex Downs.
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LITTLE LUCY MINNIE LOCKET
Little Lucy Minnie Locket, almost fits in dad’s coat-pocket
When she first came to our house, hardly bigger than a mouse
Fluffy, warm, and sort of brown
She could curl in my mum’s hand.
Little Lucy Minnie Locket, came to me on my fifth birthday
It was such a big surprise, looking up with shiny eyes
I asked my mum, “Whose dog is that?” She said, “It’s yours!”
I jumped and clapped.
Little Lucy Minnie Locket, kiss, kiss, lots of kisses
Just sometimes she bites my nose, it’s her way of saying, ‘hello’
She gets caught in my mum’s feet
All my friends think she’s so sweet.
Little Lucy Minnie Locket, loves to walk while we go shopping
A pink ribbon in her hair, even boys bend down to greet her
I’d have thought they’d call her stupid
But they say, ‘She’s so cute!’, Lucy
Yes, I’d have thought they’d call her stupid
But they say, ‘She’s so cute!’ Lucy’.
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LAPIS WINGS
Behold, the minstrel, writing songs under yew trees
In the shadow, of the silver birch
Was it a gift? Or a curse that she carried?
For it hardly ever filled the purse.
But she tarried on, for the journey beckoned
Like a hand, waving in the mist
And so, she sang and wrote for her living
Riding her horse through all the villages.
A wandering minstrel, there for their pleasure
A dreamer, who dared to howl at the moon;
A jester, who knew to play the fool well
While courtiers mingled in the sun-filled rooms.
She took her bow, in the galleries and gardens
Used her best shot and her arrow straight
To hear applause, was the minstrel’s pleasure
The winding road seemed to be her fate.
She told them tales, she’d make them smile and titter
Sang with heart and she wooed them well;
And the wine did flow, and their voices chattered
Her blonde guitar was strung with amber shells.
Sometimes it seemed, that her life was absurd
With just the trivial, she held in her hand
But what is gold and what are riches?
When she had freedom and the rolling land.
Where was the house, standing by the river?
And the fair one, to mind the sheep?
Where was the dream, that seemed to elude her?
She often wondered, as she fell to sleep.
To have, to have not, is a measure of the mind
To win, to lose, twists like columbine
Circle of life, will turn to meet you somewhere
With what you’ve lost at the most perfect time.
Yes, what is gold and what are riches?
Can you point them, assuredly?
Could they be, the voice in motion?
And the pen that writes the words, so carefully?
So, like a bird, she will soar with the music
As she sings, to the courts and the kings
And the words will land, as certain magic
Just as a dragonfly, with lapis wings.
□
SAINTS ON TAPESTRY
Stepped into a church today
Just to see a friend get married
Oh, and I gazed at the saints on tapestry
But the place did not seem holy, no;
I sat in a square today
And a young man about my age
Well, he asked me for a shilling or two
He was hungry, he needed a meal…
Build me a fire, build me a wall
And I ask you, who in the world, the world, will save me?
Those coloured jewels and rosaries
And pretty saints on tapestry
All the gentle harmonies, now
They will not help me;
Oh, and I might just have begun to sway
To the words that the man of God did say
But then he talked about collections
And not to throw confetti on his gardens, no…
Build me a fire, build me a wall
And I ask you, who in the world, the world, will save me?
Well now I might just have begun to sway
To the words that the man of God did say
But then he talked about collections
And not to throw confetti on his gardens, no…
Build me a fire, build me a wall
And I ask you, who in the world, the world, will save me?
Build me a fire, build me a wall
And I ask you, who in the world, the world, will save me?
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KICKING UP THE SANDS OF TIME
We were skimming the skies, with our thoughts that flew high
Dare-devil divers, Houdini subscribers
Not yet bruised by collisions of pride
Not yet lost on the stairway of life
Curiously naïve, call it my springtime.
And peering through the view of iguana eyes
There was still leeway to bide my time – till
I hit the nets of the vines and the twines
In the jungle of twisted greenery;
Call it the summertime for me, oh…
Hook, line and sinker, not able to move
I’d call that my late summer blues
Dragging behind you with heavy shoes
Trying to retrieve some sense for my soul
Knowing full well you had swallowed it whole…
Standing in the rain, trying to keep the storm, from flooding out my yard
Seems so peculiar as I fight it alone
With no one now to help me, beat back the harm
But looking back in some hindsight, I never really did pay it much mind
No, not at the right time…
So now I’m kicking up the sands of time with my mind
Kicking up the sands of time
Sifting through the layers of life, that I knew
Wondering what’s yours and what’s not mine
I’m wondering what’s yours and what’s not mine.
And my guitar sometimes strums the night
Oh, with diamonds and spikes
I’m tamed by the seasons of time, yet,
I still keep that crazy, somewhere inside
…Call it the autumn of my life…
Standing in the rain, trying to keep the storm, from flooding out my yard
Seems so peculiar as I fight it alone
With no one now to help me, beat back the harm
But looking back in some hindsight, I never really did pay it much mind
No, not at the right time…
So now I’m kicking up the sands of time, with my mind
Kicking up the sands of time
Sifting through the layers of life, that I knew
Wondering what’s yours, and what’s not mine
So now I’m kicking up the sands of time, with my mind
Kicking up the sands of time
Sifting through the layers of life, that I knew
Wondering what’s yours and what’s not mine
I’m wondering what’s yours and what’s not mine…
Wondering what’s yours and what’s not mine.
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DREAMERS
Come all ye dreamers, wherever you may may be
Bring out your visions and sit beside of me
I’ve been sat here in this lonely loft, where dreamers often do
In silence with my pen, in thoughts and dreams anew.
Come all ye dreamers, in towns and in fields
Put down your bags and rakes and bring your faith and hope
For sharing is a common thing, whether complaint, tale or boast
But sharing one-another’s dreams, can bring the greatest moments.
I live in a whitewashed house, built in 1822
The fishermen who lived here then, their wives and children, who,
Had shutters worn and wooden, that still hang here with me now…
I have imagined how they might have lived, in 1822
And I wonder what their dreams were then
And if some of them came true?
So, come all ye dreamers, bring your sunshine and your rain
We can sip golden honey-mead and sing a few refrains
I know those times when work and toil deplete the mind to fly
Into spheres of embracing the mysteries of life
Into spheres of imagining our castles in the sky.
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All song lyrics © Marianne Segal