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Description
This is a "folk metal" version of the Scottish border ballad "Twa Corbies". The lyrics are traditional, based on those found in Sir Walter Scott's collection "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border". The melody is largely based on the traditional Breton tune called "Alar'ch" ("The Swan"); the short bridge-like bit after some verses is my own composition. The style is ... eh, sort of latter-day Sabbath! :)
(There's now an updated version of this track that incorporates feedback from other MacJams users :)
(There's now an updated version of this track that incorporates feedback from other MacJams users :)
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Lyrics
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
And t'ane untae the t'other say-o,
Where sall we gang and dine to-day-o?
Where sall we gang and dine to-day?
In behind yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there-o
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair-o,
His hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate-o,
So we may mak our dinner sweet-o,
We may mak our dinner sweet.
O you sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een.
Wi' many lock o his golden hair-o
We'll theak our nest when it grows bare-o,
Theak our nest when it grows bare.
O many a one for him makes mane,
But nane shall ken where he is gane.
Oer his white banes, when they are bare-o
The wind shall blow for evermair-o,
The wind shall blow for evermair.
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
And t'ane untae the t'other say-o,
Where sall we gang and dine to-day-o?
Where sall we gang and dine to-day?
In behind yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there-o
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair-o,
His hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate-o,
So we may mak our dinner sweet-o,
We may mak our dinner sweet.
O you sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een.
Wi' many lock o his golden hair-o
We'll theak our nest when it grows bare-o,
Theak our nest when it grows bare.
O many a one for him makes mane,
But nane shall ken where he is gane.
Oer his white banes, when they are bare-o
The wind shall blow for evermair-o,
The wind shall blow for evermair.
thoddi
Great guitars, and impressive vocals.
Drums and bass sits tight and good and make a good foundation for the rest.
Cool with the sounds of the birds in there...