Get all 3 Ringlefinch releases available on Bandcamp and save 35%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Tall Tales, Gory Stories EP, and Mass Trespass EP.
1. |
||||
I thought I lost her at "Hello", when she said "One for joy, and two for sorrow"
She weighed my heart there for a while, then let it fall to join the others in the pile, and she said
"Do you think you want to know me? Do you want to map my soul?
Then come and crack my spine, and turn the page my dear,
And I will swallow you up whole…
Cos I read Edward Gorey's gory stories when I was far too young,
If I'm an open book, come choose your own adventure – or has the tiger got your tongue?"
I said, "There's no surprises here, I always read the last page first
And I've got cheat notes in all your margins" – and she said,
"Then come, dear reader, do your worst!
There's no York Notes to help you now, and you are going in alone,
For there are parts of me have not been read before, and here be monsters…
Cos I read Edward Gorey's gory stories when I was far too young,
If I'm an open book, come choose your own adventure – or has the tiger got your tongue?"
"You read Edward Gorey's gory stories when you were far too young
If you're an open book, I'll choose my own adventure – and it's only just begun.
Come let's read Edward Gorey's gory stories so late into the night,
The candles gutter gently up there on the mantle, and softly fade from sight –
And I guess we'll be alright."
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
2. |
The Prince Of Poyais
04:36
|
|||
Gregor Macgregor returned to London town
Ten years in the Americas, Loch Lomond skin tanned golden brown
A soldier and adventurer, I heard him often say
As he lulled our ears with tales of sweet Poyais
Now Poyais was a country on the verge of breaking good
With rivers full of gold, fertile fields and exotic wood
And they’d made the Scot their Prince, he told us there that day,
As he asked us to hie hither to Poyais
Up and away! New land, new life! Poyais!
They’ll think of us, they’ll say “Luck, she loves the brave!”
Heart high, head low! Hold true, hold fast!
I know we’ve got some leagues to go, but he will lead the way -
The Prince of Poyais!
The day that we set sail, my folks all came to see
Two strong ships all packed with goods, four hundred heroes, and me -
A humble shoesmith late of Fife, and soon enough to be
The Royal Cobbler to a whole country…
I know, I know, I know, I know, oh hubris is the king of sins
I know, I know, I know, I know, can’t trust the sea, can’t trust the winds
We’ll claim our fortunes bold, though the storms may huff and puff -
Just a shame our Prince couldn’t make it to the docks today somehow to see us off
Up and away! New land, new life! Poyais!
They’ll think of us, they’ll say “Luck, she loves the brave!”
Heart high, head low! Hold true, hold fast!
I know we’ve got some leagues to go, but he showed us the way -
The Prince of Poyais!
The call came down “Land ho!”, and we ran to the side
Champing hard to see, hearts hammering, as one man cried
“But where are all the fields and trees?” - for it was plain as day
There was naught but bog and bugs in all Poyais
We had no choice but to settle and stay, our passage was paid one way
No gold, to our dismay, and at first we thought there was some mistake
But the months starved by, fever set in and we started to die
And we came to see Macgregor’s lie…
Death and decay! We’ll rot here in Poyais!
They’ll think of us, they’ll say “Those fools deserve their graves”
Hands high, hearts low, the end is nigh I know
The Devil take Gregor Macgregor and his greed -
Devil take Poyais!
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
3. |
Making It
03:38
|
|||
We have cut the candle in half
We have burnt each half from each end
But we’re no closer yet to working this out
Let’s just close our eyes, cross our fingers and pretend
We’re making it up as we go along
We’re faking it til we belong
Taking every chance to get it wrong
We’re making it up til we make it
When we were young we were always getting lost
The map was a maze of scribbles and lines
We doodled in the margins, and this is the cost
Things have got their own bright dumb ideas
They don’t quite ever work out for the best
But through these hapless years I’ve come to believe
Muddling through is the new success
We’re making it up as we go along
We’re faking it til we belong
Taking every chance to get it wrong
We’re making it up til we make it
We’re making it up as we go along
We’re faking it til we belong
Taking every chance to get it wrong
We’re making it up til we make it
We’re making it up as we go along
We’re learning to laugh as it all goes wrong
If we end up dead or we end up strong
We’re making it up til we make it
We’re making it up til we make it
One of these days...
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
4. |
Tongue In Cheek
02:47
|
|||
A stray word escapes, like an angry bee
It buzzes around, kind of spitefully
I bat it away - it settles down to wait
Like the days-old fish
Going stale
On her plate
And she said, "I'm full of questions,
Questions and sushi,
The sushi we made last week."
"That's fine," I replied, as her smile broke out wide,
"I could tell you were tongue in cheek"
The silence unfolds, like a dirty sheet
Left over from when we stayed in bed for a week
So we fold it up, and we stow it away
Such a stress and a fuss
For a word
Gone astray
And she said, "I'm full of questions,
Questions and sushi,
The sushi we made last week."
"That's fine," I replied, as her smile broke out wide,
"I could tell you were tongue in cheek,
Tongue in cheek"
And she said, "I dream in metaphors,
Metaphors and 'pataphors,
They haunt me when I am weak."
"That's fine," I replied, like a ghost by her side
"I could tell you were tongue in cheek,
Tongue in cheek."
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
5. |
Just Enough Rope
03:19
|
|||
A Sunday afternoon in Kentish Town
The wind been turning norther for a week
I found an empty bench and sat me down
And the young man sat beside me turned to speak.
He said, "I'm wearier than my few years should allow,
And the sanctity of my silence is a sham.
I know I must get through this all somehow,
But days I don't remember who I am."
And I said, "Hold on tight, try not to let go."
His hair was wild and matted to his face
The sorrow in his eyes cut to the bone
His voice, as dry as winter leaves, was that
Of a man who reaped more than he had sown.
I said, "Hold on tight, try not to let go."
There was something in his voice that chilled me through
There was something in his words almost malign
There was something in the story that he told
That but for luck could easily be mine
Years gone by and sometimes I still see
A matchstick figure in the corner of my eye
And now I know that one day he will be
Right there sat beside me when I die
Saying, "Hold on tight, time now to let go."
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
6. |
Ophelia
04:25
|
|||
Starting in the wrong place
We missed the opening line
It all moved on without us
That's fine
The middle was slightly confusing
Our metaphors got slightly mixed
Whatever went wrong with the ending
Can't be fixed
Your grief has cold blue fingers
Your grief has weeds in its hair
Whenever you turn to confront it
It’s not there
The secret is to keep breathing
The secret is to keep breathing
The secret is to keep breathing
Just let yourself drown
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
7. |
Woolpacks
00:34
|
|||
8. |
Gone South
04:13
|
|||
Tell me why do birds
Suddenly disappear
Gone in a gust of feathers and dust
Every time she draws near,
She is a maiden with ice
In her smile and in her eyes
She gave us goosebumps, chilblains, and such
She gave us loving with a northerly touch, yeah
Her moods were lovely, dark and deep
Her voice was crystal as she sang the world to sleep
Let’s go south for the winter
Gonna take our chance with the sun
She can hang here - Lady Chill
Keep an eye on things while we’re gone
The final geese cut the sky
In a V flicked at me as they fly
It's not unfair - the cupboard was bare, and
The golden goose made a pukka pie
But now we’re left eating crow
The taste is bitter I know
Kickin' leaves as the summer grieves
Pretty soon we'll be kickin' snow
We knew she'd freeze us out some day
She is as she does, she can't be no other way
So let’s go south for the winter
Gonna take our chance with the sun
She can hang here - Lady Chill
Keep an eye on things while we’re gone
Let’s go south for the winter
Gonna find some sun and make hay
She can hang here - Bad Weather
Cat’s gonna play while the mice are away
Let’s go south for the winter
Gonna take our chance with the sun
She can hang here - Lady Chill
Keep an eye on things while we’re gone
Yeah, we’re gone til the summer
Gonna head south til we find
The days in the sun that we used to live for
The days in the sun that we left behind
Gonna head south til we leave her behind
If you see her, tell her we gone south
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
9. |
Dust & Stones
04:11
|
|||
Come paint our story in dust and in stones
Wrap us in cloud as a shroud for our bones
Bury me here with my face to the sky
Let each morning's dew be the grief in my eye
We skip and we stumble, never did learn to fly
I don’t burn bridges, I let them decay
The rot sets in, it fades gently away
No thunder and fireworks scorching the sky
Just a vague sense of loss and mumbled goodbye
One fumbled toss of the coin - and goodbye
So charge up your glass, and drink to the beat,
To this one golden moment, fleeting and sweet
We’ll nod to the ghosts of our past, and we’ll toast
The dust and the stones lying under our feet
At this buffet of woe, there’s enough to go round
Come pile up your plate, if a plate can be found
Eat, make merry, but don't meet the eyes
Set deep in the masks that are gathering by
Dance through the hollows with barely a sound,
Let the dogs take the scraps that fall to the ground
So charge up your glass, and drink to the beat,
To this one golden moment, fleeting and sweet
We’ll nod to the ghosts of our past, and we’ll toast
The dust and the stones lying under our feet
So charge up your glass, and drink to the beat,
To this one golden moment, fleeting and sweet
We’ll nod to the ghosts of our past, and we’ll toast
The rust and the bones there under our feet
The dust and the stones lying under our feet
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
10. |
The Masochism Tango
02:38
|
|||
I ache for the touch of your lips, dear
But much more for the touch of your whips, dear
You can raise welts like nobody else
As we dance to the Masochism Tango
Let our love be a flame, not an ember
Say it's me that you want to dismember
Blacken my eye, set fire to my tie
As we dance to the Masochism Tango
At your command, before you here I stand
My heart is in my hand (yeuch), it's here that I must be
My heart entreats, just hear those savage beats
And go put on your cleats, and come and trample me
Your heart is hard as stone or mahogany
That's why I'm in such exquisite agony
My soul is on fire, it's aflame with desire
Which is why I perspire when we tango
You caught my nose in your left castanet, love
I can feel the pain yet, love
Every time I hear drums
And I envy the rose that you held in your teeth, love
With the thorns underneath, love
Sticking into your gums
Your eyes cast a spell that bewitches
The last time I needed twenty stitches
To sew up the gash that you made with your lash
As we danced to the Masochism Tango
Bash in my brain, and make me scream with pain
Then kick me once again and swear we'll never part
I know full well I'm underneath your spell
So, darling, if you smell something burning, it's my heart
Take your cigarette from its holder
And burn your initials in my shoulder
Fracture my spine and swear that you're mine
As we dance to the Masochism Tango
[Lyrics © Tom Lehrer]
|
||||
11. |
Pomme De Lune
03:51
|
|||
I built her in the Pennines in the village I called home
Thirty foot of English oak, and a polished crystal dome
Fifty mile or more from the nearest wave on the nearest shore
From the terrible salty carnivores that hunt beneath the foam
I built her not for rivers, not for to go to sea
For I was raised in mountains, and the mountains keep me free
I built her for the night, far away from the crash of the city light
To sail the sky as the stars burn bright, that's the life for me!
Yo, heave ho! My Pomme de Lune
Not quite a boat, nor yet balloon
Yo, heave ho! My Pomme de Lune
I promise dear, we're leaving soon...
Any day now I'll pack my troubles in my old kit bag
I’ll set her sails and cast her off, and heave into the black
We’ll skim the moon, across the Sea of Serenity we’ll tack
Set a course for the dog-star’s nose, and never once look back
“Lunatic!” they cried, as the tears stood sharp in my mother’s eyes
Lunatic? Yes, I deride the fears that hold them back!
Yo, heave ho! My Pomme de Lune
Not quite a boat, nor yet balloon
Yo, heave ho! My Pomme de Lune
I stole the key, we're leaving soon...
Yo, heave ho! My Pomme de Lune
Strangely like an aerial bassoon
Yo, heave ho! My Pomme de Lune
Come, we’ll race you to the moon
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
||||
12. |
Coldwell Clough
16:23
|
|||
Coldwell Clough I: A River Nearby
I never get lost with a river nearby
I just follow the water, learned to keep my feet dry
There are sudden meanders, there are oxbow lakes
But I feel for the current, go wherever it takes
I was six years old, high up on the moor
My first time dowsing, feet tired and sore
Hours since I saw them, since I heard their cries
Alone on Kinder, trapped under the sky
Was it me, or the willow? Pulling for water or home?
I can barely remember, lost between the heather and the loam
The hillside beating with every step I took
I listened for the water as the mountain shook
The things I saw, the treasures I found
I hold every colour, I dream every sound
They pull me back to them secretly
A divining rod for who I used to be
Is it me, or the willow? Pulling for water, or home?
I can barely remember the heather and the loam
The hillside beats with every step I take
There's a sudden meander, there's an oxbow lake
So I never get lost with a river nearby
I feel for the current, and I keep my feet dry
There are sudden meanders, there may be oxbow lakes
But I listen for the water
Listen for the water
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough II: Halfway Down The Coffin Trail
Halfway down the Coffin Trail
Nine more miles to go
The fog crept in while we looked up
And stole the world below
We've been climbing on since dawn
And each step pulls us back
Halfway down the Coffin Trail
Halfway down the Coffin Trail
Full five fathoms left
Til we reach the top of old Mam Tor
Bedraggled and bereft
No low church bell to knell us home
Or raise us up again
Halfway down the Coffin Trail
Three score years and ten
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough III: Mam Tor
They used to bring the dead
Up this track by Hollins Cross to Hope,
Four strong backs, and a box of lead -
Til the road came through, that lashing cotton rope
Who am I to walk in their steps?
My burdens and my sadness are mundane
And Mam Tor shivers like she is afraid
Of an idea both sacred and profane
She shrugged off the road like yesterday's shroud
And cast it aside on the valley floor below;
So they carry their dead up the roof o' the world
And I turn off their trail and climb on alone
Up Jacob's Ladder, past Edale Cross, to the Mermaid's Pool
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough IV: Easter Eve At The Mermaid's Pool
We got up here just at noon
Watched the sun laze across the sky
Chasing myth across the moors,
Chasing our tails, and any grand old lie
Oh it's tempting, I agree -
Every river meets the sea;
But who would want to sit forever,
A stagnant pond clogged with reeds?
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough V: Kinder Downfall (Instrumental)
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough VI: Bleaklow Stones Part I
Come, take me home
To Coldwell Clough and the Bleaklow Stones
We'll watch the lights in the valley below
As the night pulls down and near
Lie and listen to the wind
As we nurse hot tea to warm our sins
The world drawing in
Til there's nobbut us here
A star above the trees
The fire in the grate that waits at home
The candlelight dancing in your eyes…
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough VII: Mass Trespass Part II (Instrumental)
= = = = =
Coldwell Clough VIII: Bleaklow Stones Part II
Come, take me home
To Coldwell Clough and the Bleaklow Stones
In my heart I never left, and I never felt more alone
Some day I'll return
To lay my head and rest my bones
In Coldwell Clough and the Bleaklow Stones.
[Lyrics © Andy Logan]
|
Ringlefinch London, UK
A core part of the scene built around boutique label Folkroom Records, London-based alternative folk seven-piece Ringlefinch
have been described as "Like Bellowhead before them... just one appearance on ‘Later With’ away from becoming nationwide favourites".
They release debut album 'Tall Tales' on Folkroom Records on 25th June 2021.
... more
Streaming and Download help
Ringlefinch recommends:
If you like Ringlefinch, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp