1. |
||||
|
Aftermath
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
Have you forgotten yet?…
Em Am G Am
For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:
Em Am G Am
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you're a man reprieved to go,
Dm7 Am7 Dm7 Am7
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
Bb Am D
But the past is just the same—and War's a bloody game…
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am x2
Have you forgotten yet?…
Em Am G F Em
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget.
Cm Gm
Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz—
Cm Gm
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Cm Bb
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
Cm D7
Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench—
Gm Bb Cm D7
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Cm Gm Cm D7
Do you ever stop and ask, 'Is it all going to happen again?'
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
Do you remember that hour of din before the attack—
Em Am G Am
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am
With dying eyes and lolling heads—those ashen-grey
Em Am G Am
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?
Em Cmaj7 Em/A Am x2
Have you forgotten yet?…
Em Am G F Em
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you'll never forget.
Riff: x7007x x3003x x0x000 x0x555
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
“No one cares less than I” [Bugle Call]
By Edward Thomas
Em Bm Em Bm
“No one cares less than I,
Em Bm Em Bm
Nobody knows but God,
C D
Whether I am destined to lie
G Em
Under a foreign clod,”
C#m B C#m B F#m
Were the words I made to the bugle call in the morning.
But laughing, storming, scorning,
Only the bugles know
What the bugles say in the morning,
And they do not care, when they blow
The call that I heard and made words to early this morning.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Arms and the Boy
By Wilfred Owen
Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-leads,
Which long to nuzzle in the hearts of lads,
Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth
Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.
For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.
There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;
And God will grow no talons at his heels,
Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Anthem for Doomed Youth
By Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Everyone Sang
By Siegfried Sassoon
Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on - on - and out of sight.
Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away ... O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
Dawn on the Somme
By Robert Nichols
Intro: Am7 D C#m7 F#m7 Bm7 F#m7 C#m7
Am7 Em7 F
Last night rain fell over the scarred plateau
Am7 D C#m7 F#m7
And now from the dark horizon, dazzling, flies
Bm7 F#m7 C#m7
Arrow on fire-plumed arrow to the skies
Am7 D C#m7 F#m7
Shot from the bright arc of Apollo's bow;
Bm7 F#m7 C#m7
And from the wild and writhen waste below,
Am7 Em7 F
From flashing pools and mounds lit one by one,
Am7 D C#m7 F#m7
O is it mist or are these companies
Bm7 F#m7 C#m7
Of morning heroes who arise, arise
Am7 D C#m7 F#m7
With thrusting arms, with limbs and hair aglow
Bm7 F#m7 C#m7
Toward the risen god, upon whose brow
Am7 Em7 F
Burns the gold laurel of all victories,
Am7 Em7 A
Hero and hero's god, th' invincible Sun?
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
The Sign-Post
By Edward Thomas
Am7 D Am7 D
The dim sea glints chill. The white sun is shy,
Bm7 Em Am7 D
And the skeleton weeds and the never-dry,
Am7 D Am7 D
Rough, long grasses keep white with frost
Bm7 Em Am7 D
At the hilltop by the finger-post;
Fmaj7 Am7 Fmaj7 Em
The smoke of the traveller’s-joy is puffed
Dm Am G Am
Over hawthorn berry and hazel tuft.
Fmaj7 Am7 Fmaj7 Em
I read the sign. Which way shall I go?
Dm Am G E7
A voice says: You would not have doubted so
Am Em Am Em Dm G Dm G
At twenty. Another voice gentle with scorn
Am G Am E7
Says: At twenty you wished you had never been born.
One hazel lost a leaf of gold
From a tuft at the tip, when the first voice told
The other he wished to know what ’twould be
To be sixty by this same post. “You shall see,”
He laughed—and I had to join his laughter—
“You shall see; but either before or after,
Whatever happens, it must befall,
A mouthful of earth to remedy all
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
The Convergence of the Twain
By Thomas Hardy
(Lines on the loss of the "Titanic")
Dm Am Bb C
In a solitude of the sea Deep from human vanity,
Cm C Bb9
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
Dm Am Bb C
Steel chambers, late the pyres Of her salamandrine fires,
Dm C Bb C
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.
Dm C Bb C
Over the mirrors meant To glass the opulent
Dm C Bb9
The sea-worm crawls — grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.
Em Am G B7
Jewels in joy designed To ravish the sensuous mind
Em Bm7 C D
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.
Dim moon-eyed fishes near Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" ...
Well: while was fashioning This creature of cleaving wing,
The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything
Prepared a sinister mate For her — so gaily great —
A Shape of Ice, for the time far and dissociate.
And as the smart ship grew In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.
Em Bm Em Bm
Alien they seemed to be; No mortal eye could see
Bb C Dm
The intimate welding of their later history,
Dm Am Bb C
Or sign that they were bent By paths coincident
Cm C Bb9
On being anon twin halves of one august event,
Dm Am Bb C
Till the Spinner of the Years Said "Now!" And each one hears,
Cm C Bb9
And consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
In Tenebris
By Thomas Hardy
“Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum.” —Ps. ci.
Fmaj7 Am7
Wintertime nighs;
Bb Am7
But my bereavement-pain
Bb Am7
It cannot bring again:
G
Twice no one dies.
Fmaj7 Am7
Flower-petals flee;
Bb Am7
But, since it once hath been,
Bb Am7
No more that severing scene
D
Can harrow me.
Am G F
Birds faint in dread:
G Am
I shall not lose old strength
Am G F
In the lone frost's black length:
G E7
Strength long since fled!
F G Am
Leaves freeze to dun;
C G
But friends can not turn cold
C G
This season as of old
E7
For him with none.
Tempests may scath;
But love can not make smart
Again this year his heart
Who no heart hath.
Black is night's cope;
But death will not appal
One who, past doubtings all,
Waits in unhope.
|
||||
10. |
Alone (Edgar Allan Poe)
03:19
|
|||
|
Alone (E. A Poe)
A C#m
From childhood's hour I have not been
B A
As others were; I have not seen
G#m C#m
As others saw; I could not bring
F#m A
My passions from a common spring.
C#m G#m
From the same source I have not taken
A B7
My sorrow; I could not awaken
C#m B
My heart to joy at the same tone;
F#m A
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
E F#m
From the lightning in the sky
G#m A
As it passed me flying by,
C#m B
From the thunder and the storm,
A B
And the cloud that took the form
C#m G#m
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
A B7
Of a demon in my view.
|
||||
11. |
||||
|
The Combe
By Edward Thomas
Dm Am7 Gm7
The Combe was ever dark, ancient and dark.
C Gm7 Dm
Its mouth is stopped with bramble, thorn, and briar;
Dm Am7 Gm7
And no one scrambles over the sliding chalk
C Gm7 Dm
By beech and yew and perishing juniper
F C Gm7
Down the half precipices of its sides, with roots
F
And rabbit holes for steps. The sun of Winter,
Am7 Gm7
The moon of Summer, and all the singing birds
F Gm7 A7
Except the missel-thrush that loves juniper,
Dm Am7
Are quite shut out. But far more ancient and dark
Bb C
The Combe looks since they killed the badger there,
Dm C
Dug him out and gave him to the hounds,
G A7
That most ancient Briton of English beasts.
|
||||
Toby Darling Penang, Malaysia
Amateur enthusiast.
Feel free to do anything you want with these tracks, I am not interested in making money from music.
If you like Toby Darling, you may also like:
Their Invisible Hands
by Avi C. Engel
A dreamy improv-folk collage from Toronto multi-instrumentalist Clara Engel, who plays cigar box guitar, talharpa, melodica, and many more.
go to album
Hushed folk-based songs build from feathery acoustic guitar figures and draped with layers of keys and pedal steel.
go to album
Reasons for the Dead
by Aisle Knot
Stark, folk-derived songs built on brittle acoustic guitars that conjure the image of a fire burning in the distance on a dark night.
go to album
The Texan sibling indie-folk duo is back with a new album that is filled with sweeping, cinematic tracks.
go to album
The Oh Hellos return with their glorious Southern Texas twang-tinged rock.
go to album
Bandcamp stalwarts Maggie and Tyler Heath return with a brand new album, and for the first time - vinyl!
go to album
Dope indie leaning, folk inflicted, pop record, pieced together in 5 bedrooms spanning Brooklyn to Chicago.
go to album
