Fisherman’s Song (David Powell, Arr. Exit Smiling)
I wrote this song to celebrate the seine fishing that, along with net making and farming, formed the backbone of the village economy in the early 20th century. The song was first performed by Burton Bradstock children in a school play in 1996.
Up at dawn and down to the strand, heave pull, heave pull, pull.
The Burton Crew turn their backs to the land, haul away.
The rising sun lights a mackerel sky…
We scan the sea from the strand up high…
The sea explodes into boiling steel…
As the hungry mackerel fight for a meal…
The boat sets off in the foaming brine…
Jack in the stern pays out the line…
Mackeral birds wheel, dive and cry…
Their silver prizes borne up high…
The net goes in, our muscles strain…
The shoal is trapped in the Burton seine…
A hundred stone the Captain cries…
We grin and rub our salt-stung eyes…
Back to the Dove for a pint to sup…
Our days work done and the sun just up…
Roots (Douglas Northover, Arr. Exit Smiling)
In his poem, ‘Roots’, Douglas reflected on how the landscape he lived in defined and shaped the person he was.
These fields, these hills that feel my boots,
‘Tis here, deep down, you’ll find my roots:
On shingled Chesil, changing sea,
The pages of my history.
Here by season’s luminate
You’ll find the pages of my fate:
With autumn leaves and winter’s plough
A primrose bank, a lowing cow.
Summer’s darting mackerel shoal
The wheeling terns which dive below.
When done at last with earthly fears,
Quiet lay me with my peers,
Where I may hear upon the breeze
The distant sound of breaking sea
Music Men (Simon Douglas, Arr. Exit Smiling)
A true story from a shopping trip to Bath. Good songs touch your heart and make you think. Hopefully some of our songs will do the same for you.
It was Christmas Eve in old Bath Town
I was listening to the music going round and round and round
I’d heard the dulcimer and the Sally Army Band
But when I reached these two I just had to stop and stand
To stop and stand, they were…
Music men with music lives
They had tunes for their lovers and for wives
There was one on the bodhrain and one on the squeeze
They were playing together with the greatest expertise
They’d not met before, they didn’t know their names
There was feeling for the music running through their veins
Running through the veins of the…
Music men with music lives
They had tunes for their lovers and for wives
The songs they were playing were both happy and sad
There were shining white heroes and villains oh so bad
They sang about love, they sang about hate
Just busking together they’d ben bought together by fate
Together by fate, they were…
Music men with music lives
They had tunes for their lovers and for wives
Made me think about when I’d been happy, when I’d been sad
Made me think about when I’d been good, when I’d been bad
I thought about love, I thought about hate
I won’t plan for tomorrow, I’ll leave it to fate
The crowd threw their money into the hat on the floor
They threw pennies and pounds so the men would play more
It was time to go, as I walked down the street
I could still hear the squeeze box and the drummers drumming beat
I could hear the beat of the…
Music men with music lives
They had tunes for their lovers and for wives
Loyal Volunteers (Anon, Arr. Exit Smiling)
Discovered in a box of papers in a Burton Bradstock house recently, this recruiting song, dating back to the Napoleonic Wars, encouraged the men of Burton Bradstock to defend the life and honour of the village and country against Boney’s army. Rosi and David arranged
the song concluding with the Dorset hornpipe, ‘Corfe Castle’.
Come, my lads of courage true, ripe for martial glory:
See the Standard waves for you, and leads the way before ye.
Burton's sons were always brave, on the land or ocean
Ready for to kill or save, where honour's the promotion.
To the field of Mars advance, join in bold alliance
Tell the bloodstain'd sons of France, we bid them all defiance.
Burton long has had a boast, and right and well deserving:
For pretty maids a standing toast, of natures sweet preserving.
Gallia's sons invasion plan, threat'ning to destroy us:
Seize our maidens, houses, land, and as slaves employ us.
We must fight or starve or fly, hope nought else remaining,
Or wives may faint and children die, with no hand sustaining.
Lives are lent for laws and King, when that they may need 'em
Let us then in chorus sing, give us death or freedom.
Moonbow (David Powell, Arr. Exit Smiling)
Driving over Askers Hill before dawn one morning, pitch black, with a bright silver moon shimmering through dark curtains of showery rain, I saw a pearly bow of light hanging over the head of the Bride Valley: A moonbow…beautiful yet sinister and cold. The song flowed from this experience and from the emotional turbulence that I’m sure I’ve shared with most people at some point in their lives.
Sunlight caresses green hills all around me
Sunshowers sprinkle the grass and the trees
Sunbow arcs high over rain-dimpled river
A symbol of love and of hope and of peace
But the end of the rainbow is elusive and distant
As I reach out my hand it drifts further away
You take out the coin and you smile at me slowly
Hold my fate in your grasp…will you go, will you stay
This coin has two sides, war and peace, love and hatred
It is forged in life’s fires fuelled by passion’s hot coal
Toss it high, hold my breath as it spins and turns slowly
You reach up and capture my heart and my soul
Moonlight dapples the slumbering valley
Pools of deep shade around hills of pale light
Moon-showers drift down from dark clouds framed by silver
Moonbow’s pearl mist sprays the velvet-black night
Second-hand sunlight is false and uncaring
Draws life from the landscape and hope from my heart
Paints the canvas of love with brushstrokes of sadness
Glinting cold in the moon the coin tears us apart
This coin has two sides, war and peace, love and hatred
It is forged in life’s fires fuelled by passion’s hot coal
Toss it high, hold my breath as it spins and turns slowly
You reach up and capture my heart and my soul
Along the Beach (Douglas Northover, Arr. Exit Smiling)
Douglas used the Bride Valley, Chesil Beach and the sea as a metaphor for life’s journey. In this poem he looks back down life’s path with fondness and sadness.
Roll waves! Roll!
For lovers who wandered warm hand in hand
Or drowsily murmured as they lay on the sand
When the skies were all blue long ago.
Roll waves! Roll!
For the days of lost youth with blood red and warm
When we chased the green mackerel in the teeth of a storm
With the friends that we knew long ago
Roll waves! Roll!
For the barefooted children who sang as they played
And the dreams that they had and the plans that they made
When the skies were all blue long ago
Roll waves! Roll!
For the goals that we aimed for and never did reach
For the times that we drifted like wrack off the beach
When the skies were all blue long ago
Roll waves! Roll!
For life worn away as the sea does a stone
Till we wander in dreams on the beach all alone
Under skies that were blue long ago.
Chesil Song (Douglas Northover, Arr. Exit Smiling)
A celebration poem in which Douglas paints a warm picture of Chesil Beach, keeping local language alive. The ‘lerritt’ is the boat used for seine fishing and the ‘killick’ is a heavy Chesil pebble, tied to a rope to act as an anchor. The ‘fine nut-brown maid’ dances to the Dorset 4-Hand Reel, a dance tune from Puncknowle, a village in the Bride Valley.
Sing me a song of the long Chesil beach
Where the mackerel birds dive and herring gulls screech.
At the end of a line the lerritt’s afloat
With the sea out beyond as smooth as a moat.
Sing me a song of the sun hung in brass
When the sea’s all aboil with the shoals as they pass.
The cliff top’s all pink with the froth of the thrift
The swells are so lazy as shorewards they drift.
Sing me a song of the fisher longshore
Who can tie a sheet bend and pull on an oar
Or can stay with the drift and put out a trott
Whilst he knows just the place for a full lobster pot.
Sing me a song of a fine nut brown maid
Who can splice a good rope and knows how to braid,
Can make you a home and cook you a meal
Sing you a song or dance a good reel.
Sing me a song of the long Chesil Beach
Where the mackerel birds dive and herring gulls screech
Let me drop kellick, here let me stay
Until the sun sets at the end of my day.
Saint or Sinner (Simon Douglas, Arr. Exit Smiling)
A song about deciding who you are and then standing up to be counted. As I’ve got older, I’ve tried to do this but haven’t necessarily always succeeded. I’ll still keep trying, though!
Are you a saint or a sinner, are you a loser or a winner
Do you give or do you take, do you make or do you break
Win or lose…pay your dues…you must choose…you must choose
We must care for each other, mother, father, sister, brother
Look through the colour of the skin, look for the heart that beats within
Hold my hand…across the land…make a stand…make a stand
It’s time to light up the fire, it’s time to take this thing higher
Stand up it’s time to unite, stand up and fight for what is right
It’s time to share…show you care…we must be there…we must be there
We must fight for food and water, for every son and every daughter
We won’t fight with guns or swords, we will fight with peace and words
Right the wrong…sing the song…we must be strong…
Are you a saint or a sinner, are you a loser or a winner
Do you give or do you take, do you make or do you break
Win or lose…pay your dues…you must choose…you must choose
Childhood Odyssey (Douglas Northover, Arr. Exit Smiling)
In this poem, Douglas imagines a conversation between two people reminiscing on how they played as children in the valley. Those who know the valley well will identify where Graston’s Islet and Bredy’s Bridge are. For the rest of you, we suggest an OS map and a hearty walk!
Do you recall when we were young,
With all the world ablaze?
We heard the blackbird’s anthem sung
Along the leafy ways.
From Bredy’s bridge we watched the trout.
And caught them in a dream;
Then scampering on, we’d screech and shout
Along the placid stream.
By Graston’s islet was the main
Many a pirate there
The hordes of redskins on the plain
Just cows that came to stare.
Was Livingstone in Browns’es Copse
Did Stanley meet him there?
And were black rooks among the crops
Eagles huge and rare?
Arch bridge was by Horatio held,
With wooden sword and shield;
And many a matador was felled
by bulls in Bishop’s field.
The Saxon arches nobly led
Attacked the Normans tall
And charged right through the withy bed
To take the waterfall.
To home at last their footsteps led,
Thatched palaces for kings;
To dream perchance that night in bed
Of what the morrow’d bring.
Time Keeps Ticking (Simon Douglas, Arr. Exit Smiling)
I gradually became more and more aware that I was getting old and was letting life pass me by. Eventually I told myself to do something about it. I wrote this song but am still letting life pass me by.
Tired of waiting I just want to move on, don’t want to wait another day, no.
So tired of waiting I just want to move on,
Time keeps ticking away yeah, time keeps ticking away.
Like a river flowing from the source to the sea, my life travels on every day
From the ever flowing current I just want to break free
I’m not ready to be swept away with the tide, I’m not ready to be swept away
Well I was born a long time ago, when the world was in black and white
Now it’s in colour and I just want to know
How I’m going to win my fight against time, how I’m going to win my fight
Chorus
My head’s moving faster but my legs are moving slower
I keep landing flat on my face, ow!
She thinks I’m putting pressure, but I only want to show her
I just want us to win this race together, I just want us to win this race
When we’re not together it breaks my heart, I haven’t got the words to say oh no
She never lost me while we were apart
She just gave me away for a time, she just gave me away
Chorus
I’ve lived more years than I’ve got to come, I’m racing through middle age
I’ve lost my brother and my dad and my mum
I’m working from a blank page, sorry but I’m working from a blank page
Got friends all around me and it makes me feel good to know that they’re always there, yes they are
They kept me going whenever they could
Just want my girl to share my life, I just want my girl to share
Chorus
Broken Heart (David Powell, Arr. Exit Smiling)
A warning to the feckless! How easy it can be to find yourself falling in love and sometimes how hard to fall back out. I wrote this following a recording session when Rosi was revising for a biology exam. The astute among you may spot that I was looking at the revision book diagram of the human heart upside down!
I’ve got a problem that I’ll share with you that I’ve had since I was 10
That’s when I stopped seeing girls as boys in skirts, when I stole a kiss from Jen.
I’d always been a clumsy kid, falling down, scraping my knee
Now I fall head over heels in love with every girl I see.
Strolled past this girl called Penny the other day, my thoughts up in the sky.
She raked her gaze across my face, and grabbed me by the eye.
My old blood pump never had a chance it took such a funny turn.
I tripped and fell into her heart, oh will I never learn!
Here’s how to climb out of your broken heart, how to fall out of love.
Grab your superior vena cava, climb to the atrium high above,
Jump in the nearest chamber, wriggle through from left to right
Pull yourself up by the ventricles, jump free with all your might.
I found myself in the hospital, ‘cus when I fell I’d banged my head.
A lovely nurse bent over me, as I lay there in the bed.
She took my hand and gazed at me, asked me if I was in pain
Brushed fingertips on my racing pulse, Oh here we go again!
Chorus
Nothing broke, she said to me but little did she know,
That beneath my heaving manly chest, my heart had split in two.
With a heavy sigh I prayed my muscle of love would heal in time.
Strapping on my trusty crampons I began that tricky climb.
Chorus
And so, dear friend take my advice, when the next girl comes along.
Try to avoid those tempting eyes, sing the chorus to this song.
Or you’ll end up sitting broken hearted in the wreckage of your life
Get thee behind me, Valentine, time to go home to the wife!
Turn Towards Me (David Powell, Arr. Exit Smiling)
I lost a dear friend, a young Burton Bradstock mother, to cancer. It was a huge privilege to be asked by her family to write and deliver her eulogy. The song springs from this; from her love of the valley and the village. I’ve attempted to weave the journey of the River Bride from Bridehead to the sea in with the comfort she found in her daily walks along its banks.
Turn towards me, play beside me,
Dip and dive into my soul.
Sit beside my swirling waters,
Share my journey, chase my goal.
Born in the calm pool, protected from danger,
Well up from deep stone, Bridehead cradles me tight.
Catch my breath, give a cry and tumble down freely,
I dance in the sunrise, the birth of the light.
Confined by my course, my passage runs faster,
Held firm by stone walls and protected from harm.
Bringing power and strength to the farmers and flaxmen,
Lifeblood of the village, the hamlet, the farm.
Turn towards me, run beside me,
I’ll share your laughter, dry your tears.
Wrap my loving arms around you,
Chase your shadows, calm your fears.
My world opens up, horizons are hazy,
My energy fades; I’ve more time on my hands.
I swirl through my valley, green hills roll around me,
Reach into the soil and give life to the lands.
Turn towards me, stroll beside me,
Drift into my swirling heart.
Leap across me, dance around me,
Promise me we’ll never part.
At the end of the valley the village stands proudly,
I open my arms; wrap my life round its stone.
Drifting on, in the distance the Chesil is calling,
I gather my strength; greet the sea, welcome home.
Turn towards me, reach out to me,
Let me heal your aching soul.
Help me weave us both together,
As we drift towards our final goal.
The girl walks beside me, the woman, the mother,
Drawing comfort and strength as we drift to the night.
We know that we’re nearing the end of our journey,
We reach out and welcome the death of the light.
At night in the village, when the Chesil surf’s booming,
With the stones of the strand beating time with the sea.
If you strain very hard you still hear our laughter,
Deep under the water deep in you, deep in me.
Turn towards me, reach out to me,
Let me heal your aching soul.
Help me weave us both together,
As we drift towards our final goal.
Vale of the Bride (Douglas Northover, Arr. Exit Smiling)
The Bride Valley has nurtured, cradled and supported our families for many years. Douglas captured his love of the valley in this simple, affectionate poem. This song is dedicated to our dear families and good friends.
On land or on sea, wherever I’ve been,
My thoughts have come back to my own native scene:
From Bridehead’s calm pools to Freshwater’s tide
The lovely green vale of the small river Bride.
Of Chesil’s steep crub when winter seas roll:
Of Chilcombe’s quaint church and Puncknowle’s high knoll
I think once again and somewhere inside
My heart swells with love for the Vale of the Bride.
I see gentle hills and the green water meads,
The pools and the bars where the grey heron feeds.
Oh just take me home and there let me bide
In the peace and the calm of the vale of the Bride.
On land or on sea, wherever I’ve been,
My thoughts have come back to my own native scene:
From Bridehead’s calm pools to Freshwater’s tide,
The lovely green vale of the small river Bride.
