Song 290: "De aquellos cerros vengo" - Atahualpa Yupanqui

De aquellos cerros vengo, negra querida,
a buscar los despojos del alma mía.
De aquellos cerros vengo, negra querida,
a buscar los despojos del alma mía.
Fresquita y ansiosa vidita yo te la entregué.
Tu la destrozaste, y vidita yo no sé por qué.
Tarareo
De aquellos cerros vengo, negra querida...

Este ponchito mío, de tres colores,
me dice que no fíe de tus amores.
Este ponchito mío, de tres colores,
me dice que no fíe de tus amores.
Palomita ingrata, vidita y me has pagado mal,
córtate las alas, vidita y deja de volar...
Tarareo...
De aquellos cerros vengo, paloma mía.

Song 289: "Ma France" - Jean Ferrat

From lowlands to forests, from vales to hills
From the spring to be born to your dead seasons (1)
From what I lived to what I imagine
I shall not stop writing your song
My France

In the great Summer sun which curves Provence
From brooms of Brittany to heathers of Ardèche (2)
Something in the air has that transparency
And that taste for happiness that makes my lip dry
My France

That air of freedom beyond borders
Which used to take foreign people's breath away
And which whom you nowadays usurp the prestige
She still answers for the name of Robespierre
My France

The one of old Hugo railing from his exile (3)
Of five years old children working in the mines
The one who built with her hands your factories
The one whom mister Thiers said :"Lets' shoot her !" (4)
My France

Picasso holds the world at the tip of his palette
From Eluard's lips some doves fly away (5)
They do not stop, your prophetic artists,
To say "It's time for misfortune to succumb"
My France

Their voices multiply to make but one
The one who always pays for your crimes, your mistakes
Filling History and its mass graves
May I sing forever the workers' one (6)
My France

The one who has her sleepless nights for only gold
For the stubborn struggle of that daily time
From newspapers you sell on a Sunday morning (7 )
To the poster you hang on a wall the day after (8 )
My France

May she rise from mines, descend from hills
The one who sings in me, the pretty, the rebel
She holds the future tight in her thin hands
The one from thirty-six to sixty-eight candles (9)
My France


Submitted by cyr22 on Thu, 12/02/2015 - 13:02
Author's comments:
(1) "morte saison" is usually translated as "off season" but I thought it was too prosaic here and didn't reflect the author's intention

(2) Provence, Brittany and Ardèche are french cultural and administrative regions/departments

(3) Victor Hugo, among the greatest and most famous french writers in History

(4) Adolphe Thiers was a president under the 3rd French republic and is historically considered, at least in popular culture, to be responsible for the bloody repression of the Paris Commune in May 1871

(5) Paul Eluard, famous french poet from the early 20th century, a major member of the dadaist and surrealist artistic movements

(6) Because in French the word is the same for "story" and "history", the author switches in this verse from one meaning to the other

(7) As the author talks about the working classes' bravery here, it could be assumed that he evokes L'Humanité (lit. The Mankind ), the press organ of French communist party, as Ferrat himself was a supporter of it, though he never was an official member

(8 ) literal translation would be "on the day after's wall" but I didn't like the sound of it

(9 ) subtle pun using several linguistic and historical concepts : "to see stars" translates as "voir 36 chandelles " (lit. "to see thirty-six candles" ); sixty-eight arguably refers to May 1968, month historically renowned for having seen the biggest social contestation movement in France since the end of WW II ; and the author uses the tradition of birthday candles to mean that the France he belongs to has a wide variety of ages

De plaines en forêts de vallons en collines
Du printemps qui va naître à tes mortes saisons
De ce que j'ai vécu à ce que j'imagine
Je n'en finirai pas d'écrire ta chanson
Ma France

Au grand soleil d'été qui courbe la Provence
Des genêts de Bretagne aux bruyères d'Ardèche
Quelque chose dans l'air a cette transparence
Et ce goût du bonheur qui rend ma lèvre sèche
Ma France

Cet air de liberté au-delà des frontières
Aux peuples étrangers qui donnait le vertige
Et dont vous usurpez aujourd'hui le prestige
Elle répond toujours du nom de Robespierre
Ma France

Celle du vieil Hugo tonnant de son exil
Des enfants de cinq ans travaillant dans les mines
Celle qui construisit de ses mains vos usines
Celle dont monsieur Thiers a dit qu'on la fusille
Ma France

Picasso tient le monde au bout de sa palette
Des lèvres d'Éluard s'envolent des colombes
Ils n'en finissent pas tes artistes prophètes
De dire qu'il est temps que le malheur succombe
Ma France

Leurs voix se multiplient à n'en plus faire qu'une
Celle qui paie toujours vos crimes vos erreurs
En remplissant l'histoire et ses fosses communes
Que je chante à jamais celle des travailleurs
Ma France

Celle qui ne possède en or que ses nuits blanches
Pour la lutte obstiné de ce temps quotidien
Du journal que l'on vend le matin d'un dimanche
A l'affiche qu'on colle au mur du lendemain
Ma France

Qu'elle monte des mines descende des collines
Celle qui chante en moi la belle la rebelle
Elle tient l'avenir, serré dans ses mains fines
Celle de trente-six à soixante-huit chandelles
Ma France

Song 288: "The Bear and the Butcher Boy" - Gaelic Storm

Wrapped up in brown paper, tied up with white string
He would whistle as he went
When he was happy, he would sing


Well-
Billy Batty was a butcher boy, he rode a butcher's bike
Down Dublin's dirty back streets at the dawning of daylight
He loved a girl named Lucy, Lucy loved another lad
A soldier tall and handsome, this made young Billy sad
One day a circus came to town it had a dancing bear
Billy had to go for he knew she would be there
The second he rode up he know that something was awry
The crowd was all a gallop, Yelling "Run before you die!"
Well the bear was mad with hunger as he broke free from his chain
He had rampaged through the big top when all at once he came
Across the poor young Lucy, fallen curled up on the ground
The soldier boy was hiding he was nowhere to be found

Wrapped up in brown paper, tied up with white string
He would whistle as he went
When he was happy, he would sing


Now Billy heard her screams and he knew at once what he must do
He took off on his trusty bike and to her aid he flew
He cycled right up to the bear and threw a piece of meat
The bear spun right around and he caught that beefy treat
He scarfed it down in just one bite and looked up for some more
Round him circled, Billy trailing sausage on the floor
Just out of reach he kept him, as he lured the beast away
The bear had got a taste, now brave young Billy was his prey

Wrapped up in brown paper, tied up with white string
He would whistle as he went
When he was happy, he would sing


He would sing-
Three times around the tent, the creature had stop
He rested and he thought, then he began to skip and hop
He danced a polka and a waltz to everyone's delight
The crowd began to clap and cheer at such a wondrous site
Billy tossed the bear a lamb chop and a mighty t-bone steak
The dancing just got faster and the ground began to shake
He swallowed whole two turkeys, strings of sausages galore
Then full, he gently lay down and began to loudly snore
Well the crowd went wild with pleasure and to our hero Lucy ran
She forgot the soldier boy, now brave young Billy was her man
Now the moral of this story is, if ya want to win your Lucy
You better have a trusty bike and a sausage plump and juicy
A sausage plump and juicy

Wrapped up in brown paper, tied up with white string
Now he never whistles
Every day, every day he sings-
Ah la la diddle dee dum di diddle da
And every day, every day he sings-
La da du diddle dee dum di diddle da
Dum di doop di dum di doo…

You've got:
Chitterlings and chicken wings
Liver, tongue or tail
Gizzards, skirt or marrowbone
Game-hen, grouse or quail
There's trotters, t-bone, legs or thighs
Brisket, neck or jowl
Partridge, duck and turkey
Pheasant, guinea fowl
Rib Eye, round or sirloin
Topside, rump or flank
Bison, goat, rummed and broiled
Porterhouse or Shank
Black pudding, bacon, rashers
Scratchings, chicken feet
Haggis, ham and sweat bread
There's every kind of meat
You've got shoulder, mutton, rabbit
A rack of lamb or chops
Veil, venison, tripe
And kidney, heart or hocks

Song 287: "To Go To Sea Once More"

When first I landed in Liverpool
I went upon the spree 
While money lasts, I spent it fast 
Got drunk as drunk could be 
And when me money was all gone 
On liquors and the whores, 
I made up me mind that I was inclined 
To go to sea no more

No more, no more
To go to sea no more
I made up me mind that I was inclined
To go to sea no more

As I was walking down the street
I met with Angeline
She said: ”come home with me, my lad 
And we’ll have a cracking time”
But when I awoke it was no joke
I found I was all alone,
My silver watch and my money too
And my whole bloody gear was gone

Was gone, was gone 
My whole bloody gear was gone 
When I awoke it was no joke 
For my whole bloody gear was gone 

As I was walking down the street
I met Big Rapper Brown
I asked him if he would take me in
And he looked at me with a frown,
He said: “last time you was paid off with me
You chalked up no score
But I’ll take your advance
And I’ll give you'se a chance
To go to sea once more."

Once more, once more 
To go to sea once more 
I’ll take your advance 
And I’ll give you'se a chance 
To go to sea once more

He sent me aboard of a whaling ship
bound for the arctic seas
where cold winds blow
and there’s frost and snow
and jamaica rum would freeze
but worst of all; I’d no hardweather gear
for I’d lost all my dunnage ashore
it was there that I wished I was dead
and go to sea no more

No more,no more
To go to sea no more
It was then that I wished that I was dead
And go to sea no more

Sometimes we’re catching whales me lads,
but mostly we get none
with a twenty foot oar in every paw
from five o’clock in th mor’n
and when daylights gone
and the nights coming on
we rest upon our oars
and o’boys you wish that you was dead
or snug with the girls ashore

Ashore, ashore
Or snug with the girls ashore
O’boys you wish that you was dead
Or snug with the girls ashore

Come all you sea-faring lads
that listen to me song
when you go a-big boating, boys
make sure you do not go wrong
You take my tip when you come off a trip
Don’t go with any whores
But get married instead, and have all night in bed
And go to sea no more

No more, no more
To go to sea no more
Get married instead and have all night in bed
And go to sea no more

Song 286: "La pobrecita" - Atahualpa Yupanqui

Le llaman la Pobrecita
porque esta zamba nació en los campos.
Con una guitarra mal encordada
la cantan siempre los tucumanos.
Con una guitarra mal encordada
la cantan siempre los tucumanos.

Allá en los cañaverales
cuando lo noche viene llegando.
Por entre los surcos se ven de lejos
los tucu-tucus de los cigarros.
Por entre los surcos se ven de lejos
los tucu-tucus de los cigarros.

Solsito del camino.
Lunita de mis pagos.
En la pobrecita zamba del surco
cantan sus penas los tucumanos...
Tarareo...
cantan sus penas los tucumanos...

Mi zamba no canta dichas,
solo pesares tiene el paisano.
Con las hilachitas de una esperanza
forman sus sueños los tucumanos.
Con las hilachitas de una esperanza
forman sus sueños los tucumanos.

Conozco la triste pena
de las ausencias y del mal pago.
En mi noche larga prenden sus fuegos
los tucu-tucus del desengaño.
En mi noche larga prenden sus fuegos
los tucu-tucus del desengaño.

Solsito, del camino.
Lunita de mis pagos.
En la pobrecita zamba del surco,
cantan sus penas los tucumanos.
Tarareo...
cantan sus penas los tucumanos...

Song 285: "She Knows my Name" - The Family Crest

Now with a wonder
She wakes by the curtains, she knows
That the morning brings an ending to our love
And the window it shakes with a silence that grows
Oh it hurts her but she's never never known

Oh it's not that bad when she goes
'Cause she sings my name like it's a sad, sad song
Oh it's not that bad when she's away

She knows my name she knows it well
And she knows my face more than herself
But I wish her well

Here in the morning
She wakes without warning, she cries
"Oh, I love you dear!"
And this widow of old past insidious hearts
Well she screams a lot and cries to be alone

So it's not that bad when she goes
'Cause she sings my name like it's a sad, sad song
Oh it's not that bad when she's away

She knows my name, she knows it well
And she knows my face, more than herself
But I wish her well

Sometimes she stalks and moans like a ghost
And the way she throws her words
Well they hurt me to the bones
They weigh me down like stones

Here, in the evening
My words are deceiving and cold
And oh, with a wonder
Our hearts torn asunder it shows
That her love was just an excuse to be loved

So it's not that bad when she goes
'Cause she sings my name like it's a sad, sad song
Oh it's not that bad when she goes

'Cause she sings my name like it's a sad, sad song
A sad song

Song 284: "La del gualicho" - Atahualpa Yupanqui

Rastreando la chacarera, llegado hasta aquí
Cuantito amanezca me tendré que ir
Algarrobo de mi tierra, vainas doradas.
Así don Ricardo Rojas te lo cantaba.

Amalhaya china yuya me supo olvidar.
Gualicho me lo hace falta pa hacerla llorar.
Tarareo... La chacarera...
Gualicho me lo hace falta pa hacerla llorar.

Mañana cuando me vaya por el salitral
Consuelos tendrá que darme la chacarera.
Guitarrita caspi sonko vámosnos los dos.
Adiós mi tierra shalaca, Telares, adiós...

Amalhaya china yuya me supo olvidar.
Gualicho me lo hace falta pa hacerla llorar.
Tarareo... La chacarera...
Gualicho me lo hace falta pa hacerla llorar.

Song 283: "British Grenadiers"

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.
But of all the world's great heroes, there's none that can compare.
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.

Those heroes of antiquity ne'er saw a cannon ball,
Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal.
But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.

Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades,
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades.
We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies' ears.
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.

And when the siege is over, we to the town repair.
The townsmen cry, "Hurrah, boys, here comes a Grenadier!
Here come the Grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!"
Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.

Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health of those
Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the loupèd clothes.
May they and their commanders live happy all their years.
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.

Song 282: "Whisky Johnny, Ranzo Man"

Whiskey is the life of man
Whiskey, Johnny!
O, I drink whiskey when I can
Whiskey for my Johnny O!

If the river was whisky and I was a duck
I'd jump right in and I'd never come up!

Whiskey gave me a broken nose!
Whiskey made me pawn my clothes

I'll drink it hot, I'll drink it cold
I'll drink it new, I'll drink it old

Whiskey killed my sister Sue
And whiskey killed by brother too

O whisky up and whisky down
O whisky all around the town

Whiskey killed my poor old dad
And whiskey drove my mother mad

If whiskey comes too near my nose
It's up she comes and down she goes

Oh the mate likes whiskey, the skipper likes rum
The sailors like both but me can't get none

I wisht I knew where whiskey grew
I'd eat the leaves and the branches too

I thought I heard the old man say:
I'll treat my crew in a decent way

A glass of grog for every man!
And a bottle for the shanty Man

----------------------

Oh, poor old Reuben Ranzo,
Ranzo, me boys, Ranzo
Oh, poor old Reuben Ranzo,
Ranzo, boys, Ranzo

Oh, Ranzo was no sailor
So he shipped aboard a whaler

He washed once in a fortnight,
He said it was his birthright.

Oh, Ranzo was no beauty
So he couldn't do his duty

Oh, because he was so dirty
The skipper gave him thirty

Oh, the skipper's daughter Suzy
Well, she begged her dad for mercy

Oh, she give him wine and water
And a bit more than she ought to

She gave him education
And taught him navigation

She made him the best sailor,
Aboard a Yankee whaler.

Well, he got his first mate papers
He's a terror to the whalers

Now he's known wherever the whalefish blow,
As the toughest bastard on the go.

Song 281: "Sowelu" - Wardruna

Skipa skøldur
skinandi røđull
isar aldrtregi
hverfandi hvel
x2

Skoll heitir ulfur
fagrakvel fulgjer
drøstlar draga
skinanda gođi

Svalinn heitir
stend fyri sólo
brim og bjarg brenna
fell hann ifrá

Á skildi kvađ ristna
eyra Árkvakr
hófi Allsvinns
hveli sem hvervar

Tveimar ek Sowelu ristan
Tveimar ek Sowelu fahido
Tveimar ek Sowelu galan

Tveimar ek Sowelu ristan
Sowelu ristan, Sowelu ristan!
Tveimar ek Sowelu fahido
Soweul fahido, Sowelu fahido!
Tveimar ek Sowelu galan
Sowelu galan, Sowelu galan!
x3

Sólin málar hæđ og hól,
hvamma, skálar, bala,
ljósum strjálar leiti og ból
lyftir sál af dvala
x4

Song 280: "Voir un ami pleurer" - Jacques Brel

Bien sûr il y a les guerres d'Irlande
Et les peuplades sans musique
Bien sûr tout ce manque de tendre
Et il n'y a plus d'Amérique
Bien sûr l'argent n'a pas d'odeur
Mais pas d'odeur vous monte au nez
Bien sûr on marche sur les fleurs
Mais mais voir un ami pleurer

Bien sûr il y a nos défaites
Et puis la mort qui est tout au bout
Le corps incline déjà la tête
Étonné d'être encore debout
Bien sûr les femmes infidèles
Et les oiseaux assassinés
Bien sûr nos cœurs perdent leurs ailes
Mais mais voir un ami pleurer

Bien sûr ces villes épuisées
Par ces enfants de cinquante ans
Notre impuissance à les aider
Et nos amours qui ont mal aux dents
Bien sûr le temps qui va trop vite
Ces métros remplis de noyés
La vérité qui nous évite
Mais mais voir un ami pleurer

Bien sûr nos miroirs sont intègres
Ni le courage d'être juif
Ni l'élégance d'être nègre
On se croit mèche on n'est que suif
Et tous ces hommes qui sont nos frères
Tellement qu'on n'est plus étonné
Que par amour ils nous lacèrent
Mais mais voir un ami pleurer.

Song 279: "La mano de mi rumor" - Atahualpa Yupanqui

No puede ser que me vaya del todo cuando me muera,
que no quede ni la espera detrás de la voz que calla.
No puede ser que solo haya ciclos de sombra y olvido
en este amor desmedido que se me hiergue en el pecho,
si hasta en el trino deshecho se salva el duelo del nido.

Pongo mi infancia en canciones y siento que se ilumina
una siesta golondrina toda duraznos pintones.
Celebro las estaciones, lloro su fugacidad.
Y al anegar de piedad, la mortaja de su gloria,
me crecen en la memoria remansos de eternidad.

Cuando no esté, cuando el leve sobresalto que me ordena
se trueque en tiempo de arena conmemorado, en la nieve;
cuando en mis venas abreve la liturgia de la flor,
tal vez algún labrador cansado de madrugadas
sienta en sus manos aradas la mano de mi rumor.

Song 278: "Canción del arriero de llamas" - Atahualpa Yupanqui

El sol ya va coronando
las altas cumbres de mis montañas.
¡Montañas mías!
Yo marcho por el camino
pensando en ella y arreando llamas.
¡Así es mi vida!

Llenita de tristes risas
y alegres penas.
Serranito, serranito, mi canción
nació vestida de fiesta
mientras lloraba mi corazón.
Mi corazón.
Mi corazón.

Mis llamas hasta el refugio
por el camino se fueron solas.
¡Llamitas mías!
Ya marcho pensando en ella
mientras mi quena llora su ausencia.
¡Así es mi vida !

Llenita de tristes risas
y alegres penas.
Serranito, serranito, mi canción
nació vestida de fiesta
mientras lloraba mi corazón.
Mi corazón.
Mi corazón.

Song 277: "Witches" - Samantha Mueller

Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/midnighttypewrite

Mothers keep your daughters out the woods tomorrow night
Better keep 'em locked inside because you never know
Brothers watch your sisters better hold onto them tight
'Cause they'll be steps away from witches
In the woods tomorrow night

I was once a daughter with my cheeks all painted rose
My hair all plaited gold in the autumn sun
But winter came and the woods called out my name
I could hear those witches singin' and this is what they sang

Hooo
We're comin' for you
We're comin' for you
Hoooo
We're comin' for you
We're comin' for you
Mmmm, mm, mmmm, mm

So mothers light your candles try to keep the dark at bay
And be careful what you say because you never know
Daughters who go walking in the woods might lose their way
And they'll be dancin' in the moonlight
In the woods where witches lay

Hooo
We're comin' for you
We're comin' for you
Hoooo
We're comin' for you
We're comin' for you
Mmmm, mm, mmmm, mm

I used to love the sunlight and the gentle kiss of spring
When everything was green and bright and beautiful
But now I like it better in the night
When the ghosts are singin' softly and the moon is full

I'll tell you a secret that your mothers never say
I'd rather be a witch than daughter any day
'Cause daughters turn to wives, but witches turn to stars
Tonight you'll hear them singin' a song that could be ours

Hooo
We're comin' for you
We're comin' for you
Hoooo
We're comin' for you
We're comin' for you
Mmmm, mm, mmmm, mm

Song 276: "There's a Thunder" - The Family Crest

There's a thunder in my heart, rising up
There's a flicker and a spark, rising up
All we are, all we are are silent villains
That go on and on and on and on
And on and on
There is nothing in this world I can't give
There is something in this life left to live
Oh here and now, here and now will last forever
It goes on and on and on and on and on and on
Don't sit back down to fall away
Riding on the backs of yesterday
You've got your heart, it's locked up safe
But rising up, the voices grow
Shaking through the streets and towns below
Slowly lifting up
When the world's not soft and silent anymore
Onward and upward we move on now
On and on and on and on
Onward and upward we move on now
On and on and on and on
Onward and upward we move on now
On and on and on and on
And on and on and on and on

Song 275: "Ahí Andamos, Señor" - Atahualpa Yupanqui

Ahí andamos, señor...
Vengo de los cerros
donde muere el sol.
Guapeando y guapeando
por la vida voy
Vengo de los cerros
donde muere el sol.
Guapeando y guapeando
por la vida voy

Ahí andamos, señor...
Hilacha, los sueños en el pedregal,
hecho a los rigores
y a la soledad.
Hilacha, los sueños en el pedregal,
hecho a los rigores
y a la soledad.

Ahí andamos, señor...
Si al morir se alcanza
la serenidad,
le juro, a la vida
la voy a extrañar.
Si al morir se alcanza
la serenidad,
le juro, a la vida
la voy a extrañar.

Ahí andamos, señor...
Vengo de los cerros
donde muere el sol.

Song 274: "One Thousand Burning Arrows" - Amon Amarth

They bring him to the shore
His ship is ready made
He will not see them anymore
Here he cannot stay

The brotherhood is gathered
Their faces hard as stone
They have come to take farewell
In silence they mourn

"Our king has left our ranks
a wise and noble man
We owe him loyalty and thanks
He ruled with a steady hand

He will be missed by all
His heart has now been stilled
Tonight he'll dine in Odin's Hall
There he'll drink his fill"

The ship glides gently on the waves
As day turns into night
One thousand burning arrows
Fill the starlit sky

Two ravens on the longship
They spread their pitch-black wings
And lift up to the burning sky
A send-off for a king!

Into flames! The longship burst into flames!
Black smoke is rising high
To the eternal night

Into flames! The whole world burst into flames!
Nothing will be the same
Things will forever change

The flames are raging higher
They gnaw at wood and flesh
Soon the ship will break apart
And sink into the depth

This night we wait in silence
And when the morning breaks
Our king has left this world to walk
Through Valhalla's gates

Song 273: "Blue Bonnets over the Border" - Sir Walter Scott

March! March! Ettrick and Tevot-dale,
Why my lads dinnaye march forward in order
March! March! Eskdale and Liddesdale!
All the blue bonnets are over the border


Many a banner spread,
Flutters above your head,
Many a crest that is famous in story,
Mount and make ready then,
Sons of the mountain glen,
Fight for your King and the old Scottish border.

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing,
Come from the glens of the buck and the roe;
Come to the grag where the beacon is blazing
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow

Trumpets are sounding,
War steeds are bounding.
Stand to your arms and march on good order
England shall many a day,
Tell of the bloody fray,
When the blue bonnets came over the border!

Song 272: "Backwards and Forwards" - The Family Crest

Backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
Backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
Now he adores her and now he does scorn her
Backwards and forwards she wants him to be
But their moment ran out when his heart ceased to beat

Oh no,
How now the silence grows
Out from the way they were
And how now they’re stationed
Oh no, now that they know

Backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
Backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
Now he adores her and now he does mourn her
Backwards and forwards he wants her to be
But their moment ran out when her heart ceased to beat

Oh no,
How now the silence grows
Out from the way they were
And how now they’re stationed
Oh no, now that they know

Backwards and forwards they wanted to be
But their moment ran out when their hearts ceased to beat

Oh no,
Now that the silence holds
Out for the words they'd known
But how now they’re stationed

Oh no,
Now that the night moves on
Pulls from the sound
That's bringing us down

Backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
And backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
And backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards
And backwards and forwards and backwards and forwards

Song 271: "By the Reins" - Brown Bird

I have not quite thrown
Enough of me away
I have tried to rip the rest of me apart
But still a little bit remains

But if you hold me too tightly by the reins
I will crumble to a powder
I will shatter and be swiftly swept away

I do still want for you to love me
I just don't know who I am
But I know that who I'm not is who I've been
And I will never be again

Please don't hold me too tightly by the reins
Or I will kick and I will buck
And I will run right out the nearest open gate

I may just graze until I'm lonesome
I might just run right back again
With my tail between my legs
And with a look that begs you baby to forgive

But if you hold me too tightly by the reins
I will crumble to a powder
I will shatter and be swiftly swept away

I do still want for you to love me
I just don't know who I am
But I know that who I'm not is who I've been
And I will never be again

Please don't hold me too tightly by the reins
Or I will kick and I will buck