1. |
Moelfre Hill
03:55
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High on Moelfre Hill
The seasons come and go
Generations built
Solid walls of stone
And they worked and prayed
Among these ancient fields
And watched as children played
High on Moelfre Hill
Was it on Moelfre Hill
That all the hurt began?
Or did it wait until
You took your chance and ran?
As if a child could learn
What joys and sorrows fill
The road of no return
Away from Moelfre Hill
Whatever roads we travel, whatever paths we tread
One day comes a twitch upon the thread
And what coincidence or what strange design
Has brought us here at this place and time?
On Moelfre Hill we play
These sweet resistance songs
On Bastille Day
As if the walls were gone
As if our hearts could talk
As if our love could still
The very ghosts that walk
The paths of Moelfre Hill
Oh, Moelfre Hill
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2. |
Rue Mouffetard
04:07
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I waited for you on the rue Mouffetard
I walked down the hill past the cafés and markets
To the Place St Médard
Among the friends shaking hands
After work in a bar
I ordered a beer and I thought of the past
Of the rue Mouffetard
Oh, rue Mouffetard
When the river still flowed
Through the tannery yards
There was blood on the stones of the rue Mouffetard
Another barricade fell,
Another dreamer was lost
Another symbol crashed, burned,
Flashed and turned into dust
Oh, rue Mouffetard
Now those big city lights seem so far away
Those big city dreams
And the grand boulevards
And all those big ideas, do they matter today?
Do they still shine a light
Down the rue Mouffetard?
Did they change everything or nothing at all
For the tourists, the students,
The beggar asleep on the wall?
Did they change who I am?
Did they change who you are?
As we walk away, up the rue Mouffetard?
Oh, rue Mouffetard
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3. |
Every day is Sunday
03:53
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Flossie said to me, sometimes it seems
Like summer’s never coming
Stuck behind your window
Listen to the wind blow
Watch the water running
But when the sun breaks through
There’s nothing you can do
It only takes just one day
You thrown open the door, forget what went before
When every day was Sunday
Marie said she thought her straw was far too short
Her sand too swiftly running
The tide was too far out
She said she’d come to doubt
That love was ever coming
But when lightning strikes
It takes you by surprise
And it leaves you there to wonder
How you ever felt so low, the time went by so slow
And every day was Sunday
Sometimes seems to me that this is what will be
And change is never coming
Then one day you wake, you feel your world just shake
Walk out through the rubble
And everything that’s gone, all that’s still to come
Is so deliciously uncertain
Will every day be clothed in bramble or in rose
And will every day be Sunday?
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4. |
Sirocco
03:04
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Sudden wave breaks on the shore
Breeze blows in from Morocco
Desert dust on my bedroom floor
Blown in by the sirocco
Sirocco
Temperature rises and now it begins
Leaves blow and shutters clack
No escaping the heat and the wind
A child cries and a parent cracks
No matter which way the wind blows
We all live with what the wind takes
Summer sun and winter snow
The joy and the heartache
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5. |
Tenderness
03:41
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If sometimes I may seem less present
If sometimes I may be harder to find
I won’t be trying to hurt you
Or to be unkind
For if tenderness counts for anything
And if we can reach out over the abyss
And if what we have now is everything
Remember this
Look for reflection in the water
Listen to the bird that’s in the hand
And if you should need assistance
I’ll be doing all I can
For if tenderness counts for anything
And if we can reach out over the abyss
And if what we have now is everything
Remember this
Only if you’re bleeding, only if you cry
Only when you’re dreaming, only when you try
For if tenderness counts for anything
And if we can reach out over the abyss
And if what we have now is everything
Remember this
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6. |
October wind
03:46
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I met her by the riverside
She gave to me a wheelchair smile
Basking in the February sun
As if the past and winter both were gone
I was into counting and to sums
And things that needed to be done
And things I didn’t need to know
Down where the rivers flow
She told me of the people she had known
Friends and lovers now long gone
Children after children who had flown
Along life’s open road
She told me of the splendours she had seen
The darker moments in between
And how none of us is what we might have been
Down where the river flowed
The poets and the artists who were here
The writers and the philosophers
Their words may remain or disappear
And no-one, no-one ever really knows
I came back with the first October wind
The wheelchair lying by the bend
And gentle laughter echoing
Down where the river flows
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7. |
Leo's party machine
03:01
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Number 2 Clarement, not far from the station
Is a place you don’t notice at all
But when the wind blows there’s a breath from the Bosphorus
A taste of old Istanbul
Wherever I wander, wherever I raom
Wherever I might have been
There is good food and company, good wine and music
At Leo’s party machine
From Italy, Serbia, Austria, France
Morocco, and Ukraine
From Frieberg to Freetown, from old to new Amsterdam
From Rio and Rochdale they came
A United Nations, bound by the charter
That friendship is all that we need
And that nobody’s glass should be ever half empty
At Leo’s party machine
Now I’m growing older, my hair has turned grey
And I’m sometimes in bed by half ten
And I’ve seen such deception, corruption and greed
And I wonder where it’s going to end
Leo moved back to his home by the Bosphorus
But tonight we gather again
For friendships like these can never grow old
At Leo’s party machine
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8. |
The dust of time
03:24
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The dust of time
It settles on us all
There is no hiding
Under the skin, behind the wall
Whether you sleep on a park bench
Or in a penthouse fine
Makes no difference
To the dust of time
The dust of time
It settles on the artist’s hand
It mingles with
The colours and the sand
The Mona Lisa
Or the graffiti sign
They mean nothing
Without the dust of time
The dust of time
It launched a thousand ships
After the kiss
It lingers on the lover’s lips
After the dance
The music and the wine
You wake unravelled
Beside the dust of time
And now my fingers
They dance among the dust
I sing my songs
Of oxygen and rust
I search this land of melody and rhyme
My inspiration, the dust of time
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9. |
The camper van song
02:38
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Those hippies were crazy
But they sure knew what to drive
Got myself a Volkswagen camper van
From 1965
Going to drive over the A65
Green on the outside
Purple on the inside
Spend the night by the lakeside
In my camper van
I sing this song for Amanda and Kevin
They drove their camper van up onto Otley Chevin
Just to spend the night a little closer to heaven
And it was cold on the outside
Hot on the inside
Take a walk on the wild side
In my camper van
It must be some kind of midlife crisis
But half my friends drive around in mobile paradises
Onboard showers and a comfortable mattress
No more steamy nights under leaky canvass
We drive these roads without a care
Eating our Asda apples and our Tesco pears
And voting for Boris, or Cameron or Blair
Because they’re shiny on the outside
Rotten on the inside
Drive them all of the cliff side
In my camper van
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10. |
The Gandhi
03:42
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John Meed Cambridge
John Meed is a singer-songwriter who lives in Cambridge, UK, and writes and performs in the folk and acoustic traditions. His songwriting has been compared to that of Al Stewart, Leonard Cohen, Christy Moore, Jacques Brel and Richard Thompson. He has released eight albums and his music has been played on national and local radio. See johnmeed.net. ... more
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