English Acoustic Collective

Subject: RE: English Acoustic Collective
From: RTim
Date: 28 Jan 07 - 05:40 PM

MARI-LWYD (Hugh Lupton)                Page 239

The Hodening Hoss, the Marbury Dun,
Old Bone-face the deathless am I,
Heavy with foal two thousand years,
Bridled with sorrow, Saddled with fear,
I canter through pastures of tremble and quake,
I gallop the track between sleep and awake
Seeking the deep of welcome
And stint for my tears.

The Mare-headed Queen, the Mari-Lwyd,
I was mother of all the herds.
Ten thousand years my shining foals,
Bridled with starlight, Saddled with gold,
I Leapt the divide between living and dead,
I Quickened the year with each toss of the head,
Seeking the deep of beauty
And never grew old.

But Mother of God, the Mary Mild,
The pregnant virgin came,
Bursting with Jehovah seed
She entered my stable and cried out her need.
With rope I was dragged from the birthing straw,
Aching with foal I was heaved to the door,
Swapping warmth for bitter weather
And birth of a rival creed.

And now I am nightmare, I am rattling womb,
The Uffington wraith I've become,
Forced into dark you've made me a fiend,
Bridled with shadow, Saddled with scream,
From window to window traversing the night,
My face in your glass in a shudder of light,
Seeking that deep of welcome
Befitting a Queen.
Let me in once again,
Let me in!


From Tim Radford

Subject: RE: English Acoustic Collective
From: The Borchester Echo
Date: 28 Jan 07 - 05:28 PM

BLEARY WINTER

A lost breath blows the wood awake
Remembering griefs it used to know
The sparrowhawk has seized the song
I lost so long ago
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

The seven sisters in the sky
Tend to the kitchens of the dead
Look, every lost forgotten fire
Is blazing overhead
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

The jolly boys beneath the field
The darlings of the wanton plough sing
Break our hearts cleave us apart
And fill our throats with corn
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

Only the child beneath the weeds
Weeps for the lack of love and air
Build me a little house of skin
And bone and woven hair
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter
For the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

(Hugh Lupton)

If you email Hugh Lupton at his site I expect he'd send you Mari Llwyd.

Subject: English Acoustic Collective
From: GUEST,Mad Musix
Date: 28 Jan 07 - 04:47 PM

Hi people
Anyone got the words to hand of 2 poems (or any others) by Hugh Lupton ... Bleary Winter, and Mari Lwyd on the English Acoustic Collective CD. I was taken by the tunes, that keep echoing round my head. Plus images of the Hooden Horse, and the Seven Sisters cooking up in the sky. But I can't say I remember much else of the words ...

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