1. |
Lesson Learned
04:12
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I politely declined Jesus on my way to work,
Didn't have no reason, I just didn't wanna talk,
and I slide down the trunk of these bailey walls
where your eye-line picks your pockets
as you rattle round half moon halls.
The fruit hangs low
'round these sardined streets
and the Lord Mayor's giddy architecture
already creaks,
But it's a lesson learned,
Call it a lesson learned,
'cause the less we learn
the less we see.
The old time Suffolk porter breathes its aromatic smile,
Got every hundred-metre fancy lacing up now for the mile.
But all it really makes for are restless hands
colouring outside the lines of the scenes we draw
in five-year-plans.
A lesson learned,
Call it a lesson learned
'cause the less we learn
the less we seek
yeah, a lesson learned,
Call it a lesson learned,
'cause the less we learn
the less we seek.
Well fickle is the sentiment towards the woollen mill
now the sun has got to preaching 'bout all it's done, and all it will.
The blossom's falling hard about this itchy-headed Spring
and the night lights up with oil drums, they'll make you dream
of bones and wings
A lesson learned,
Call it a lesson learned
'cause the less we learn
the less we see
yeah, a lesson learned,
Call it a lesson learned,
'cause the less we learn
the less we see.
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2. |
Too Late
03:59
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I see you standing there, alone amongst the crowd,
I raise my voice, shout your name out loud
But it's late,
Much too late
to do much good.
You were in my dream last night,
making veg- and red wine stew.
I put my arms around your back
and I whispered, "I miss you,"
But it's late,
Much to late
to do much good,
to do much good.
You just couldn't see through the deep blue
and the light that you shone didn't shine on you.
It's late
'cause you had to go.
Well the bride left early,
so our night was short,
the bus halved our stories
through the green lights we caught.
I rose the next morning
to an empty room,
'cept for a note in your place
saying 'I will see you soon'
But it's late,
Much to late
to do much good,
to do much good.
Well you just couldn't see through the deep blue
and the light that you shone didn't shine on you.
It's late
'cause you had to go.
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3. |
Rumbling Mind
04:29
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I'd sooner fall out of your grace
than stand here one moment more.
The lesson's been learned,
committed to heart:
the longer we wait
the weaker we are.
My body runs on this Wessex blood.
Any question you dig it'll quickly fill up.
Now my friend rides the rails
to that great western front,
moving so slow
I could walk to catch up.
We must make our peace
with the moment we're in.
No portal to Summer nights past
in your glass - or your next glass -
of fruit juice and gin.
The rime played its treason
on that wet-footed king,
and I promised myself
I'd not end up like him.
I cannot speak my rumbling mind.
Though thunder may seek to arrest,
it only lengthens the stride.
Well I've pushed against grief
found it unshiftable stone,
and it's only when I've let up
it drifts off on its own.
The rime played its treason
on that wet-footed king,
and I promised myself,
yeah I promised myself,
yeah I promised myself
I'd not end up like him.
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Shayler & Brooke Bristol, UK
Combining heartfelt and intelligent storytelling with close harmonies, finger-picked guitar and clawhammer banjo, Shayler &
Brooke make contemporary folk music that draws on traditions from both sides of the Atlantic.
Shayler & Brooke comprise of Londoner Kate Shayler (vocals and banjo) and Dorset-born Chris Brooke (vocals, fiddle and guitar).
... more
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