1. |
Lyngham
02:47
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2. |
Mis Kevardhu
04:28
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Walking home all alone,
Daylight faded away three hours ago,
Streetlights flicker, a cold wind blows,
Tearing through the stillness tugging at our coats.
And what can we do when the light is at its dimmest?
What can we do when December's gloom surrounds us?
When the sun goes down we can throw another log on the fire
(Winter days they have begun)
Feast and dance as the sparks fly into the night
(Hide your face just like the sun)
Blazing beacons see us through
Mis Kevardhu
So come together, dance in disguise,
Come, let's mark the shortest day beneath the darkest skies.
When the stars come out and the moon does rise
We'll drink a toast to the days ahead amidst the longest night.
We'll light up the streets when the days are at their dimmest,
A glimmer of hope that the seasons keep their promise...
When the sun goes down we can throw another log on the fire
(Winter days they have begun)
Feast and dance as the sparks fly into the night
(Hide your face just like the sun)
Blazing beacons see us through
Mis Kevardhu
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3. |
Karol Sen Day
03:47
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4. |
Wexford
02:49
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5. |
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Well, my friends, it has been a pig of a year,
We could all use some cheer, don't you think?
But the evening commenced a long time ago,
So there's hardly a chance for a drink.
But a light it still beams from the Railway Hotel,
Christmas Eve, would you believe our luck?
And we may be too late, but it's on our way home,
So why don't we wonder on up?
See, December is dark, and without my watch,
It might as well be half past three,
So, we all stumble into the Railway Hotel,
The postman, the butcher and me.
So, sing my lads, when it's been such a pig of a year,
Well, a man cannot help drink one more than he needs,
So fill up your glass, let us wash out the past,
After all it's Christmas Eve,
After all it's Christmas Eve.
And half an hour later, the room is still merry,
Sam Williams lies drunk on a bench.
And the beer is still flowing, our faces still glowing,
The night shows no sign of an end.
But when old P.C. Casley arrives at the door,
We know we're in trouble for sure.
He finds us all drunk, and spoils all the fun,
Shouts: "you're breaching the licensing laws!"
But my lads, when it's been such a pig of a year,
Well, a man cannot help drink one more than he needs,
So fill up your glass, let us wash out the past,
After all it's Christmas Eve,
After all it's Christmas Eve.
So, here's to Miss Stevens for pouring our drinks
As the clock struck eleven P.M.
And here's to the Bishops of Helston also,
For she kept the place open for them.
And here's to my good friends Charlie and Sam,
The merriest, cheeriest souls.
But as for that weasel who ruined our fun,
May his Christmas be gloomy and cold!
And sing my lads, when it's been such a pig of a year,
Well, a man cannot help drink one more than he needs,
So fill up your glass, let us wash out the past,
After all it's Christmas Eve,
After all it's Christmas Eve.
Sing my lads, when it's been such a pig of a year,
Well, a man cannot help drink one more than he needs,
So fill up your glass, let us wash out the past,
After all it's Christmas Eve,
After all it's Christmas Eve.
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Martha Woods England, UK
Martha Woods is a composer, songwriter multi-instrumentalist from Cornwall.
Having grown up
immersed in Cornish folk music and dance, she studied Folk and Traditional Music at Newcastle University with a year abroad at the University of Limerick.
Martha draws inspiration from folk traditions across Britain and Ireland, combining them with more contemporary genres.
... more
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