INFO: Under Minnow road is in Pilton, which is about a mile or two from where i live. It is simultaneously built up and modernised, and yet also its ancient buildings and ruins are everywhere. The name itself is due to the fact it led to a causeway (a road that went under the little winding Yeo river's water at high tide). This road made me think of this entire album's content in one 15 minute stroll, like a rapid dream. LYRICS: Under the minnows lies a river bed Under the minnows where I now tread The marsh by the river now causeway instead An ‘under-minnow’ road. Under the minnows I found a song I call ‘the minnows’- Although they are gone Unlike the old wall a thousand feet long By under minnow road O for the minnows O for the minnows O for the minnows of under minnow road Under the minnows I found a song I call ‘the minnows’- Although they are gone Unlike the old wall a thousand feet long By under minnow road Normans and Saxons rose and fell The old town of Pilton’s story to tell Just walk down the hill from the old lady well To the bottom of Braddiford road And there are the minnows there are the minnows there are the minnows of under minnow road

INFO: an old instrurmental from Bodmin in cornwall, collected by Maud Karpeles in the 1920s, i was humming it as i walked along Under Minnow road for the first time

INFO: This song from the music halls of London in the 1600s seems to be a satire on the rich- saying rich men have the pox, sleep with prostitutes and give pox to their own wives. But it is also a love song. I find it utterly transcendent. LYRICS: Courtiers, courtiers think it no harm That silly poor swains in love should be For love lies hid in rags all torn As well as in silks and bravery For the beggar he loves his lass as dear As he that has thousands, thousands, thousands He that has thousand pounds a year State and title are pitiful things A lower state more happy doth prove Lords, ladies, princes and kings With beggar hath equal joys in love And my pretty brown Cloris upon the hay Hath always as killing, killing, killing Hath always as killing charms as they A lord will purchase a maiden head Which perhaps hath been lost some years before A beggar will pawn his cloak and his gown Content with love to lye and live poor Our eager embraces in coal sheds Are always more pleasing, pleasing, pleasing Then theirs that are dull in downy Our Cloris is free from patches and paint Complexion and features sweetly agree Perfections which ladies often do want Is always intail’d on our pedigree Sweet Cloris in her own careless hair Is always more taking, taking, taking Then Ladies that towers and pendents do wear A dutchess may fail created for sport By using of Art and changing of things Tho’ she were the idol and goddess o’the court The joys and the pleasure of Don Prince or Kings Yet Cloris in her old russet gown She’s sound, she’s sound, she’s sound And free from the plague and pox of the town

INFO: My grandfather served in the Phantom regiment in WW2. This is for (and about) him. LYRICS: After the Great War another did come And off went my grandad to combat ‘the hun’ The fourth generation of messenger brave Via horseback then cycle then radio-wave From Belgium to London were messages sent By the diligent skill of young Ted from Kent Raised in the countryside, one brother of two Accustomed to working hard, trusted and true Now with a son of his own and a wife A-guarding their future by risking his life; By sending a code form a hole in the ground To Churchill in Dover via Niven in ‘town’ After the horrors of war he came home And went back to work for the old G.P.O. Fixing the ‘phones of both castle and camp at night up a pole by the light of his lamp

INFO: This hymn has had a very unusual history- the words being written by outsider outcast and visionary William Blake (living south of the River in London) The subject matter is not at all typically Christian- neither Catholic nor Protestant but totally idiosyncratic. The music was originally writ by Parry for a very right wing gentleman’s organisation, then Parry realised his error and gave it instead to the suffragettes, thence the Women’s institute. It is now in public domain. I prefer using this slower meter to give Parry’s wonderful melody space to unfurl. Having always found Parry’s waltz time (and harmonically frenetic introduction) a bit too busy! LYRICS: And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England’s mountains green And was the holy lamb of G*d on England’s pleasant pastures seen And did the countenance divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here Among these dark satanic mills? Bring me my bow of burning gold Bring me my arrows of desire Bring me my spear , o clouds unfold Bring me my chariot of fire! I will not cease from mental fight Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem… In England’s green and pleasant land.

INFO: Having never liked the lyrics to ‘down in sandbank fields’ but having always liked the melody I decided to write a brief ancestry of some of my paternal side LYRICS: Young Eliza Irving, daughter of Fermanagh Half a Scottish planter, half a gypsy girl Her family they were starving and so in the famine Sailed to England where she came to know the world Her father was a soldier fighting for the money Half way a traitor, half way good; A traitor to Scots blood pumping through his body, A traitor to the isle ‘pot which he stood; A hero to his family- he saved ‘em from the famine, Settled ‘em in Kent with life more secure It turned out badly, just like in Fermanagh Luck ran out as it did before; Eliza Irving wed an outcast- A tough young minceir a-breaking rocks- James O’Nion, bred from the Ash trees (Whose own history now be lost) Eliza dug the quarries right beside her husband- Who soon died from exhaustion, young. With a widow’s worries to raise alone her children She put ‘em in the workhouse- both her darling sons Then a stroke of luck (or the angels were smiling)- For a friend of her dead husband came- ‘Bardy Wilkins’ took and raised ‘em kindly (Both Eliza’s boys grew strong and brave) Although he was married with children to raise (And dear Eliza Irving had now died) Bardy’s family learned to make their own clothes And upon themselves were taught to rely Each of the brothers, they married bard’s daughters And soon each pair had a pair of sons And from one son came along to more boys… And of the last my own dear Da was one.

INFO: Bull Hill is in Pilton and leads to Under Minnow Road. It made me feel like a time traveller when i walked up it by moonlight. Also, early depictions of Yahweh in proto Hebraic culture depict the god as a Bull-headed thunder god, and i felt, somehow, this song would lead well into me meeting my ancient still-living G*d in the next song. Bull Hill is walked down once a year by the revellers of a green man festival first held by royal permission of Edward the third.

INFO: This song encapsulates my own personal world view perfectly, and comforts me greatly, and in singing it, I connect with thousands of years of history in my own blood and soul (from my maternal side), and I connect with the mysterious universe that I am a constituent part of. LYRICS: אֲדוֹן עוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר מָלַךְ בְּטֶרֶם כָּל יְצִיר נִבְרָא לְעֵת נַעֲשָׂה בְחֶפְצוֹ כֹּל אֲזַי מֶלֶךְ שְׁמוֹ נִקְרָא וְאַחֲרֵי כִּכְלוֹת הַכֹּל לְבַדּוֹ יִמְלוֹךְ נוֹרָא וְהוּא הָיָה וְהוּא הֹוֶה וְהוּא יִהְיֶה בְּתִפְאָרָה וְהוּא אֶחָד וְאֵין שֵׁנִי לְהַמְשִׁיל לוֹ לְהַחְבִּירָה בְּלִי רֵאשִׁית בְּלִי תַכְלִית וְלוֹ הָעֹז וְהַמִּשְׂרָה וְהוּא אֵלִי וְחַי גּוֹאֲלִי וְצוּר חֶבְלִי בְּעֵת צָרָה וְהוּא נִסִּי וּמָנוֹס לִי מְנָת כּוֹסִי בְּיוֹם אֶקְרָא בְּיָדוֹ אַפְקִיד רוּחִי בְּעֵת אִישָׁן וְאָעִירָה וְעִם רוּחִי גְוִיָּתִי אֲדֹנָי לִי וְלֹא אִירָא (The Eternal one who reigned
 before any of creation was created.
 When all was completed by the will of G*d
 this Almighty was described as King. And when all shall end, 
in majesty G*d shall reign.
 [G*d ] Was….is…..
and shall be….. in glory. [G*d] is one, and there's no other; Without division or peer 
Without beginning, without end
 and to G*d is all dominion and power. my G*d, my living emancipator. 
the rock of my affliction in time of trouble
 and my miracle and my refuge,
 filling my cup the day I call. To the hand of G*d I commit my breath of soul when I sleep and wake 
with my breath of soul and body
 my ‘Lord’ G*d is with me, I shall not fear.)

INFO: This song is a very old west country melody .... and seems to be about maybe the father of Pan or some similar entity, as it is a hunter who ends up with a doe as a romantic companion somewhere in the green forest of old...... i like the way the lyrics initially talk about a hunter in the third person about an event in the past, then soon enough it is the keeper himself singing the story as if he is talking to the doe at the time. its mystical to me, anyhow. LYRICS: Oh there was a keeper a shooting did go And under his arm he did carry a bow And that for to bring down the buck and the doe All in the green forest the forest so green Where the red roses blossom to crown my queen The very first doe that he shot at he miss’d The second escaped by the breadth of his fist The third doe was young so he caught her and kiss’d All in the green forest the forest so green Where the red roses blossom to crown my queen My fair pretty doe you no longer shall roam For certainly henceforth with me you shall come To tarry securely in my little home All in the green forest the forest so green Where the red roses blossom to crown my queen Aside I will cast now my billets and bow I’ll tarry at home with my own pretty doe As proud as a king of his sceptre I trow All in the green forest the forest so green Where the red roses blossom to crown my queen