Songs on the disc

1. 2. 3. 4.

Canterbury Road King of Spain (Philip II) Joan of Arc Bosworth Field (The King and the Land are One) 5. The White Ship 6. Saint Patricks Breastplate 7. Tower of London Song (I am the Tower) 8. Falstaff at the Boars Head Tavern 9. The Lady of Shalott (Gone Away) 10. The Golden Bough at Whitsuntide 11. Little Saint Hugh of Lincoln (Blood Libel Ballad) 12. Chapel Song (For Bertha by Ethelbert) 13. Beowulf Suite (The Last Hero 14. Hatikvah (Instrumental Bonus Track) 15. McMusicman (RIP Bob McMillan, 19522013)

Canterbury Cathedral, Kent, England

On the Road to Canterbury

Eat and drink and lets be merry On the road to Canterbury Tell a tale and lighten the load On the good old Pilgrims Road Twas April, when sweet breezes blow The showers fall and flowers grow And hearts grow warm and yearn to go On the Canterbury Road At Tabard Inn to bed on down In Southwark, down in Londontown Heading off to County Kent To Saint Thomas Shrine we went Twenty-nine in hostelry And there I made their company On our Pilgrims Way to see what we could see On the road to Canterbury From every station, rank and kind A sundry lot by fate combined Off to see what we could find To pass the time of day A nun, a parson, and a squire, A noble night and men for hire A wife from Bath, a monk and friar Full England in array And the tales that we did tell Made the time pass by so well That when they were written down They did gain a great renown

With their earthy wit and rhyme And their subtlety sublime They passed beyond their time to history On the road to Canterbury As we came into the city you could hear the bells that tolled And the pilgrims just kept staring into the evening sun of gold And when you looked up in the sky you saw those spires reaching high Theres no way you can look down when you reach Canterbury Town I dont know but Ive been told That words do come and words do go And some words somehow touch the soul And some words fade away And some words somehow linger on After all our time has gone Like the pictures they have drawn They never really die And all those tales that we did say Were such a slice of everyday That they spoke to old and young In their common English tongue And at Westminster you still can see The Tomb of Sir Geoffrey In the Poets Corner there for all to see Still on the Road to Canterbury

King of Spain
Well the road to Santiago seems a hundred miles wide With the shrines to Mother Mary, blessed saints on every side And the sun is always shining on the Andalusian Plain And thats why I wish I were the King of Spain Yes how I wish I were the King of Spain tonight Bellas canciones in the Barcelona light Senorita of Cardona, meet the mistress of Lorraine And thats why I wish I were the King of Spain tonight Thats why I wish I were the King of Spain Ivory white of the Alhambra, gold and silver of Peru Dusty streets of old Toledo, sunny skies of azure blue Brown-eyed Spanish princess, shes the treasure of my reign And thats why I wish I were the King of Spain Yes how I wish I were the King of Spain tonight

Spanish Castle Magic in the Barcelona light Senorita of Cardona, meet the mistress of Lorraine And thats why I wish I were the King of Spain tonight Thats why I wish I were the King of Spain Well I dreamed I had a mighty host of ships upon the sea One hundred fifty galleons sworn to battle heresy And I dreamed I wed a virgin queen and made England my domain And thats why I wish I were the King of Spain Oh the fast food strip is sprawling here in Somewhere, USA Forecast cold and rainy, cloudy skies of steel grey Wont you meet me off in somewhere Therell be no need to explain To His Majesty, the Royal King of Spain Oh how I wish I were the King of Spain tonight Spanish Castle Magic in the Barcelona light Ever more Beyond, sail out far past the Spanish Main And thats why I wish I were the King of Spain tonight

Philip II of Spain (1556-98). He launched the famous Spanish Armada against England's Queen Elizabeth

Joan of Arc
Ride on through the rain Ride on through the pain Though the arrows might fly from the castle on high Wont you ride on sweet Maid of Lorraine Voices call in the night Say to keep up the fight And dread England will fail and fair France will prevail Raise on high your pure standard of white In the green of the glade Joan she knelt down and prayed And the Lord from above saw her heart of pure love And the goodness inside of the maid And He answered her call The Great God of us all And he brought pride again to the hearts of the men And a nation half ready to fall

Dark the water across the river wide Dark the tower across the other side Orleans, with no place to run or hide Let the maid be your guide Hail, hail to the King To the altar we bring With his power divine, the true prince of our line Loud his praises we sing Left to fend for her own England finally seized her alone And they took her on down to the heart of the town And they burned at the stake the fair Joan Looking up to the sky As the flames rose on high And the fire seemed to shine round the saint like a shrine And the wind seemed to echo the cry Joan of Arc

Figure 1Hermann Stilke, Joan at the Stake

Bosworth Field
Now the day is ending, and a new day has begun And I see my day of glory has begun And the white boar he has fallen upon the fields of Bosworth ground And I see my time of glory all around And now a red rose is arising And now the king and land are one In the summer of the season, in the summer sun And a new house is arising With a white rose for a queen In the summer of the season on fields of green In the summer of the season on fields of green

Henry Tudor Receives the Crown of England from Lord Stanley in the aftermath of the Battle of Bosworth Field

The White Ship

There are no sadder tales to hear 1120 was the year King Henry sailed across the channel Sea To England, from the shores of Normandy His son Prince William stayed behind To linger as he wined and dined Then he left amidst the dark of night On a ship of snowy white On a ship of snowy white The White Ship bore the Princes band The noble youth of fair England And so they gaily left the Norman Shore 300 Christian souls or more The White Ship sped across the sea Amidst the throng of revelry Rowers rowing in the dark of night Upon the ship of snowy White Upon the ship of snowy white In late November winds are chill And Channel waters they can kill And a great stone barely covered by the Ocean tide Pierced the White Ship in its side And as the ship it sank on down

300 Christian souls did drown And people say they heard their cries in the night When the ship went out of sight When the ship went out of sight Prince William found a lifeboat small But then he heard his sister call The Fair Matilda in the water cold Calling for her brother bold Prince William turned his boat to see Amidst the crying and debris Turning back to where the throng did drown And they pulled Prince Williams boat on down They pulled Prince Williams boat on down 300 souls beneath the waves In their north Atlantic graves Prince William at the bottom of the Channel cold And King Henry wept when he was told And now the Kingdom has no heir Without Prince William, young and fair Nor Sweet Countess Matilda with her hair of gold And King Henry wept when he was told King Henry wept when he was told

Saint Patricks Breastplate

I rise this morning to see the sun My strength, my shield, Thy Three in One Thy power in me, the race has been run And the fighting is over, the battle is won I rise this morning to see the sky Thy word like a path that before me does lie When arms grow too weary, too weary to try When the river is deep and the mountain is high I rise this morning and call Thy name And though the winter winds chill me, my heart is still aflame For riches I heed not nor mans empty fame Thy grace to uphold me, thy love to proclaim I rise this morning, my staff in hand And those Thy foes do assail me, still I will make my stand Thy True Church like a rock in the shifting sand Thy heart for the people of fairest Ireland Thy love for the people of green Ireland

The Tower of London Song (I am the Tower)

Cold is the stone of my great White Tower By the River Thames, keep of royal power Many a tale has echoed in my halls Many a soul has been chained inside my walls By the River Thames looming in the dark starlight The Tower of London stands silent in the night Theres just one window where you can see the sky I am the tower, the tower am I Once two young princes, the hope of the White Rose Were hid away to a place where no one knows Locked in the tower to keep them from their right Killed by their Uncle Richard or someone in the night And still more traitors, pretenders to the throne Locked in the tower, the tower all alone Theres just one window where you can see the sky I am the tower, the tower am I They say that Anne Boleyn on my walls she carved her name Waiting for pardon, but pardon never came And Lady Katherine, the rose without a thorn Went to the block on a February morn And still just a girl was the sweet Lady Jane Grey Queen for just nine days till they locked her up away Where theres just one window for you to see the sky I am the tower, the tower am I

And even young Elizabeth passed through the Traitors Gate Sent to the tower to wait upon her fate She charmed the guards with her beauty and her grace Lifelong loyal friends they say she made within this place Never had England known such a glorious queen And the axe it fell silent upon the Tower Green Wheres there just one window where you can see the sky I am the tower, the tower am I

The Tower of London's Famous "White Tower"

Gone Away
1.Down in old Camelot lived the Lady of Shalott In a tower by the blue waters flow Cursed to stay in her room, she just wove upon her loom Till one day she did venture below And as if in a dream she walked down by the stream Where a barge by the water did sway And she lay like asleep and she drifted to the deep Now shes gone, gone, gone, gone away Will you walk out of sight like a gypsy in the night To be gone at the break of the down Or will you linger a while before many a long mile Till youre gone, gone, gone, gone away 2.Well down in old Londontown where King Henry wore his crown And he took for his wife Lady Jane A maiden so fair for to give the king an heir And a son for to carry his reign But when the time came for Jane her poor body racked with pain

And she went to her chamber to lay And they say it went wrong, that the labor was so long Now shes gone, gone, gone, gone away Will you walk out of sight like a gypsy in the night To be gone at the break of the down Or will you linger a while before many a long mile Till youre gone, gone, gone, gone away 3.Well Diana the Bride was the Rose of Englands Pride And a sweet blossom flower to behold And at St. Pauls she wed where the wedding vows were said Neath an alter of crimson and gold But the game that they played proved an empty charade And she felt more alone every day And by the millions we cried when we heard that she had died Now shes gone, gone, gone, gone away Will you walk out of sight like a gypsy in the night To be gone at the break of the down Or will you linger a while before many a long mile Till youre gone, gone, gone, gone away

The Golden Bough at Whitsuntide

God rest ye merry Whitsuntide The springtime of the year Well dance around the Maypole then So be ye of good cheer The spring is come and flowers bloom Jack Green is born anew The fairest of the fairest sky The bluest of the blue Yes all around our forest grove Well sing a holy vow And every year at Whitsuntide We raise the golden bough God rest the merry Queen of May She shines in morning light Well place the garlands in her hair A crown of blossoms white Well sing the ancient songs of old
Guinevere in May, by John Collier

Through every town and shire And when the sun has slipped away We light the Whitsun fire Yes all around our forest grove Well sing a holy vow And every year at Whitsuntide We raise the golden bough Remember well our Whitsuntide Just like Queen Guinevere Seven weeks past Easter In the Springtime of the Year And folk in every village For whenever comes the day Will dance again this springtime In the merry month of May Yes all around our forest grove Well sing a holy vow From day to day, from year to year Well raise the golden bough

Little St. Hugh of Lincoln

Listen close my friends and a tale will come to you Of a poor little child that the people call St. Hugh In the English town of Lincoln many years ago Thats where something happened, something everyone should know In Twelve-Hundred Fifty-Five in the month of late July, Little Hugh went missing and nobody could say why And on August 29 they found his body in a well By the House of a Jew, or thats what the men did tell When trouble comes its always been the same Someone somewhere has to take the blame And the Jews of old Lincoln were made to pay the price For the myth of blood libel and their ritual sacrifice

Ninety Jews then were taken to the Tower And 18 died by decree of royal power And the Jews of old Lincoln found themselves so all alone When you dont count as English youve got no rights to call your own

In the year twelve-hundred ninety Good Christians hear me well Jews in England were cast from the land where they did dwell And many were the kingdoms they could not call their home And they seldom were safe in wherever they did roam And the myth of blood libel would live another day And wherere it was told, there would be great hell to pay And the Christians of Europe must remember that great shame How they lied about Jews and they pinned them with the blame Medieval illustration shows a Jew being beaten. Note the "badge" of They found a man named identification on the clothing, showing the two tablets of the Ten And Christians round the world Commandments Jopin, to them just another Jew must remember our great shame Pinned him with the blame and The Jewish blood on our hands for killing little Hugh and how we pinned them with the blame They they turned to others, for laws in that dark time Said to seize all the goods of a Jew who does a crime

Chapel in the Town (Song for Bertha by Ethelbert)

Im building you chapel, just outside the town For you my Queen of Kent, in your Merovingian gown And everyone will smile and gather round In your little forest chapel by the town Im building you a Chapel, a chapel for to pray In the cool of the morning, in the evening of the day In the green of the field, round Canterbury Way Yes Im building you a Chapel for to pray Im building you a Chapel for your own Building it of monuments from ancient Roman stone Im building you a chapel for your King One King of creation, one Lord of everything Queen of Kent, in your chapel in the wood I wonder if you ever knew, I wonder if you could The first Christian Queen of an England that was good Forever in your chapel in the wood

Modern statue depicting Bertha in the sealed doorway of her ancient chapel in Kent, England, the first Christian Chapel in Anglo-Saxon England, built for her by her husband, the pagan King Ethelbert

Beowulf Suite (The Last Hero)

Long ago and far away A poet sang an ancient lay A strange and haunting melody Filled with mystic mystery And each word and line Swirled in colors of strange design Till I saw in my mind A world that was gone, left behind Its the end of the age Its the end of my time From Geatland with my mighty thanes I came to save the pagan Danes Far into the heathen land I will chose to make my stand Warriors wassail Words of power that cannot fail For I will prevail Here in this hall on the trail Its the end the age The end of my time

Golden is the sight Of the torches light In the mighty mead hall it just feels so right Lovely to behold Folk-Queen blue and gold Pour the honeyed drink into the treasure cup I hold Tonight, Tonight Tonight, Tonight Silver is the moon Haunting is the tune Hear the singer singing in an ancient rune Tales of daring do Shapes of changing hue Maidens of Valhalla sing a song, so true Tonight, Tonight Tonight, Tonight Feel the hand of might Feel the arm of right No one can escape from the warrior king

Run back to your lair I will chase you there No one can escape from the warrior king I will chase your kind Each one I can find Feel the mighty grip of the warrior king Of the warrior king Dragon of the midnight air Dead now by the bloody mere Tangled heap upon the ground Thats the last well see your kind around But now this great king He can feel the hot dragons sting Feel it run through his veins Wont you lay him supine on the ancient plains Its the end of his age The end of my time Its the end of the age The end of my time

The McMusicman
RIP Bob McMillan (1952-2013) The Folks you know, they come and go Everyones a player in the play But now and then, youll find a friend Sometimes theyre just a memory away The tunes you play, they fade away They drift off with the wind into the night But sometimes youll find, a note divine And it reaches up to heavens holy light And I guess its true what they say about the singer I guess its true what they say about the song For there was something in the way that my old friend Bob would play And Im thinking about it now that he is gone McMusicman, played in the band An easy-going spirit flowing free Play any song, hed play along And he could sing in perfect harmony I guess its true what they say about the ending I guess its true what they say about the end

For there was something in the way he used to take it day by day And Ill remember him, McMusicman my friend And Ill remember him, McMusicman my friend