a blog about my music, writings and art
It was made, it was made, it was almost here.
But they cut him from the trunk.
Come and laugh at the old maid dear.
He was almost true.
He was fed, he was fed, by the old maid dear.
Each hour through the night she cared.
But the farmer killed him in front of the old maid dear.
He was a farmer true.
She was buried by the farmer the following year.
Her hurt he never knew.
Come in died, then you’re in tide.
I would rather anew.
Here are some links where you can buy my first album ‘at Ranscombe Studios’:
It’s also on iTUNES and SPOTIFY, but I won’t put links, as links to iTUNES and SPOTIFY web players have crashed my monitor.