LYRICS Make your way for the robot pickers Make your way for the flying drones Make your way for brainless clickers who obey their mobile phone. Gone the days of the rolling wagon Gone the days of the open road Gone the days we stayed on commons On our way to the county shows So make your way for the robot pickers Make your way for the flying drones Make your way for brainless clickers who obey their mobile phone. Gone the days of the rolling wagon Gone the days of the open road Gone the days we stayed on our commons As we made our merry way to the county shows Talureli talureli, there’s been men condemned to die For defending their liberty Talureli talureli, but they were braver souls than I For modern living has weakened me. So make your way for the robot picker Make your way for these April fools Make your way for brainless clickers who obey electric tools Gone the days of the rolling wagon Gone the days of the open road Gone the days we stayed on commons As we made our merry way to the county shows Talureli talureli, there were some condemned to die For defending my liberty Talureli talureli, but they were braver souls than I For easy living has weakened me. So make your way for the robot picker Make your way for the flying drone Make your way for brainless clickers who obey their mobile phones. Gone the days of the rolling wagon Gone the days of the open road Gone the days we stayed on our commons As we made our merry way to the county shows Talureli talureli, there’s been men condemned to die For defending their liberty Talureli talureli, but they were braver souls than I For modern living has weakened me.

LYRICS Here be a time to share in praise and song Made of all the places where my blood came from; For I am a rudderless and foolish man I am an Englishman of mungrelled clan: Mixing with a Romany, mixing in the Jew, the Ulster Scot and Welshman, and then a Minceir too Invaded by the Romans and the Normans and the Danes The Saxon and the Angle flowing through my veins So here be a calendar in praise and song Made of all the music where my soul came from; For I am an Englishman of mungrelled clan- An’ I am a Man of Kent (and not a Kentish Man!) And I know a song be sung to call each moon So let’s go around the Sun in thirteen tunes.

LYRICS Every sir and madam they a-come to see the fayre, and all the pretty wagons that are prone to parking there, and a lane they call 'the Flash' where the people stop and stare at all the horses galloping in the open air! Now you're on the tarmacadam for to sell your finest mare, You washed her in the Eden and you plaited up her hair You tied her to a trap and with a whip you crack the air, From a canter to a gallop will she nip down there!- Along the Flashing lane. You tumbled of the trap without a boot upon your feet, you're on the tarmacadam in the middle of the street- the brain and body broken and your spirit in defeat for 'though you may be holy you're a lowly lump of meat as you lay on Flashing lane there on Flashing lane. So we put you in a wagon and we sent you to the sky and now i raise a flagon with a teary in my eye As on the tarmacadam did i see you flashing by with a mighty galloping mare upon the day you died on the Flashing lane. Down on Flashing, down on Flashing lane. Now I'm on the tarmacadam for to sell my finest mare, I washed her in the Eden and I plaited up her hair I tied her to a trap and with a whip I crack the air, From a canter to a gallop will she nip down there!- Along the Flashing lane. Down on Flashing lane.

LYRICS ’Twas in 1381- with the Hundred Years War raging on. Bishops own the moon and Sun. The taxes are is insulting. Come the 15th day of June- a day of reckoning and doom. The lesson learned is bleak and true- The peasants are revolting. I believe in standing proud, I intend to say it now And so I get the word around- The peasants are revolting! ‘Though the royal steed was tall, The king himself was young and small- But a little pony, that was all Wat Tyler did consult on. ‘Shoeless ruffian!’ they said. ‘You’re the greatest thief all of Kent!’ But those are words of ill intent by those who would insult him. Then Tyler fell before the crown- The London mayor did cut him down And stuck his head on show in town Coz peasants are revolting! With 30,000 at your side Still you could not turn back the tide; By November 1500 died- The silence was revolting. So the word it went around to everyone in every town- Just how the king will grind you down Coz peasants are revolting! But I believe in standing proud, and I intend to say it loud And once again proclaim it now- The peasants are revolting!

LYRICS Over the meadow and over the corn Roaming in yellow Sun early one morn I heard an angel singing a song Nothing was broken and nothing was wrong. I got near to the song i could hear as the melody rolled down the hillside- Over the meadow and over the corn, Roaming in yellow Sun early one morn I saw and angel and then she saw me 'Til moonlight i stayed and we slept by a tree Then she said "I'll arise from this bed and I'll silently walk up the hillside" Over the meadow and over the corn Roaming in yellow Sun early one morn I met and angel and then she was gone but I've nothing to mourn for she left me a song.

LYRICS Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather; The moorcock springs on her whirring wings Among the blooming heather: Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain, Delights the weary farmer; The moon shines bright, as I roam at night, To muse upon my charmer. The partridge loves the fruitful fells, The plover loves the mountain; The woodcock haunts the lonely dells, The soaring hern the fountain: Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves, The path of man to shun it; The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush, The spreading thorn the linnet. Thus every kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender; Some social join an' leagues combine, Some solitary wander: Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion; The hunter's joy, the murd'rous cry, The flutt'ring, gory pinion! But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, Thick flies the skimming swallow, The sky is blue, the fields in view, All fading-green and yellow: Come let us stray our gladsome way, And view the charms of Nature; The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, And ev'ry happy creature. We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, Till the silent moon shine clearly; I'll fondly pressed against the waist, I'll swear i love thee dearly: Not vernal showers to budding flowers, Not Autumn to the farmer, So dear can be as thou to me, My fair, my lovely charmer.

LYRICS I 'ave 'un! I 'ave 'un! I 'ave 'un! Houra! houra! houra! What 'ave 'ee? What 'ave 'ee? What 'ave 'ee? Pen yar, pen yar, pen yar! Houra! houra! for Tamar and for Torridge Houra! houra! the wheat's a golden dawn! Houra! houra! good oats for winter porridge When born anew be tall and true, do 'ear me barleycorn! I 'ave 'un! I 'ave 'un! I 'ave 'un! Houra! houra! houra! What 'ave 'ee? What 'ave 'ee? What 'ave 'ee? Pen yar, pen yar, pen yar! Houra! houra! for Tamar and for Torridge Houra! houra! the wheat's a golden dawn! Houra! houra! good oats for winter porridge When born anew be tall and true, do 'ear me barleycorn!

LYRICS All these bones and buried beads in chambered cairns beneath my feet Fallen stones and peaceful people Lying there in silent sleep The land of the living is broken and so i walk.... along the tombs of the oval barrow, below the moon on the old long mound I leave room on the track- tomorrow the dead will move here above the ground The land of the living is broken And so i toot on a flute on a fairy's flute a i make my merry way I toot on a flute on the Fairy Toot where the dead come out to play! All these bones and buried beads in chambered carins beneath my feet Sacred groves of kings and queens are lying there in silent sleep The merging bones of different people all atoned eternally when alone i can well believe that all these bones are immortal dreams The land of the living is broken And so i toot on a flute on a fairy's flute as i make my merry way I toot on a flute on the Fairy Toot where the dead come out to play!

LYRICS Rug Muire Mac do Dhia, Íosa Críost, Triath na Reann, Maireann dá éis ina hóigh, An bhean is dóigh do gach dall. Buime is Máthair Mhic Dé Bhí, Bean mar í ní fhaca súil, Bean ler oscladh flaitheas Dé, Do mholfas mé os gach dúil. Ní cosúil í le mnáibh, Muire Mhór an bláth nach críon, Ní cosúil balsam le moirt, Le lionn goirt ní cosúil fíon.

LYRICS On Saint Tibbs' day, I shall come, We shall ride on the ridgeway in dawn Sun. I would give you this heart of mine, but as you offer your hand afore Tibbs' day, I decline. But nobody knows when, nobody knows when, Nobody knows when be Saint Tibbs' Eve. I roam without my lantern on a dark dark night, the ghouls and banshees and phantoms gave me fright. Now the Apple Tree Man was at home, and so said he to me, The time to roam safely alone is on Tibbs' Eve But nobody knows when, nobody knows when, Nobody knows when be Saint Tibbs' day.

LYRICS Apple Tree, apple tree, here we come to sing for thee, Love and joy come to you and yours do have a merry do! We got hatfuls we got capfuls And we got three-cornered sackfuls, Thanks to the apple tree man. Love and joy come to you and to you our singing too, On very twig apples big, on every bough, apples now! We got hatfuls we got capfuls and we got three-cornered sackfuls, Thanks to the apple tree man. Here’s to thee old apple tree, oldest on the farm, King and queen of apple tree, shout hip hip hoorah, Bless this tree and praises be! Blessed we are for a laden cart…. We got hatfuls we got capfuls And we got three-cornered sackfuls, Sweet as roses up our noses We know why the apple grows is Thanks to the apple tree man. We got hatfuls we got capfuls And we got three-cornered sackfuls Sweet as roses up our noses We know why the apple grows is Thanks to the apple tree man.

LYRICS Mae gen i dipyn o dŷ bach twt, o dŷ bach twt, o dŷ bach twt, Mae gen i diopyn o dŷ bach twt, A'r gwynt i'r drws bob bore. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho A'r gwynt i'r drws bob bore. Agorwch dipyn o gîl y drws, o gîl y drws, o gîl y drws, Agorwch dipyn o gîl y drws, 'Gael gweld y môr a'r tonnau. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho 'Gael gweld y môr a'r tonnau. Ac yma byddaf yn llon fy myd, yn llon fy myd, yn llon fy myd, Ac yma byddaf yn llon fy myd, A'r gwynt i'r drws bob bore. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho A'r gwynt i'r drws bob bore. Mae gen i dipyn o dŷ bach twt, o dŷ bach twt, o dŷ bach twt, Mae gen i diopyn o dŷ bach twt, A'r gwynt i'r drws bob bore. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho A'r gwynt i'r drws bob bore. (translation to english: I have a little tidy house, tidy house, tidy house, I have a little tidy house, With the wind blowing to its door each morning. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho With the wind blowing to its door each morning. Open the door a little bit, a little bit, a little bit, Open the door a little bit So that I can see the sea and the waves. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho So that I can see the sea and the waves. And here I'll be, happy and content, Happy and content, happy and content, And here I'll be, happy and content, With the wind blowing to its door each morning. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho With the wind blowing to its door each morning. I have a little tidy house, tidy house, tidy house, I have a little tidy house, With the wind blowing to its door each morning. Hei di ho, di hei di dei di ho With the wind blowing to its door each morning.

LYRICS I'll sing you one-o, green grow the rushes-o. What is your one-o? green grow the rushes-o. One is one is all alone and evermore shall be so. I'll sing thirteen-o, green grow the rushes-o. What's your thirteen-o? green grow the rushes-o. Thirteen be the ways of G*d Twelve for the twelve tribes of the book Eleven for Eleven lights in Jo's dream Ten for ten commandments Nine for the nine bright shiners now Eight for the April rainers Seven for the seven stars in the sky Six for the six proud walkers Five for the symbols at your door Four the gospel makers Three, three, the rivals Two, two the Lily white boys, clothed all in green hi-ho, One is one is all alone and evermore shall be so, I'll sing you one-o, green grow the rushes-o. What is your one-o? green grow the rushes-o. One is one is all alone and evermore shall be so.