Some Tunes Two Get Threw

by Headwind-1



An Odd Assortment Of Tracks Not In Date Order Recorded From late 2005 To 2007.
Artwork: Barry Mason esq; Seaton, Devon's Foremost Marine Artist.


released April 6, 2012



all rights reserved


Headwind-1 UK

Nautical Spacerock!. . .Know Yourself . . Nothing In Excess.
Marine Artwork By Kind Permission Of My Good Friend Barry Mason Seaton, Devon's Foremost Marine Artist.

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Track Name: The Witches Of Salem
Salem 1692

Delusions of days that once have been,
Witchcraft and wonders of the world unseen,
Phantoms of air, and necromantic arts
That crushed the weak and awed the stoutest hearts.
These are our theme tonight and vaguely here,
Through the dim mist that crowd the atmosphere,
We draw the outline of weird figures cast
In shadow on the back ground of the past.

Who would believe that in the quiet town
Of Salem, amid the woods that crown
The neighbouring hillside and the sunny farms
That fold it safe in their paternal arms,
Who would believe that in the peaceful streets,
Where the great elms shut out the summer heats.
Where quiet reigns, and breathes through brain and breath
The benediction of unbroken rest,
Who would believe such deeds could find a place
As these whose tragic history we retrace?

T’was but a village: the Goodman ploughed
His ample acres under sun or cloud;
The good wife at her doorstep sat and spun,
And gossiped with her neighbours in the sun,
The only men of dignity and state
Were then the minister and magistrate,
Whom ruled their little realm with an iron rod
Less in the love than in the fear of God;
And who believed devoutly in the powers
Of Darkness, working in this world of ours,
In spells of witchcraft, incantations dread,
And shrouded apparitions of the dead.

Something of this our scene tonight will show;
And ye who listens to this tale of Woe,
Be not too swift in casting the first stone,
Nor think New England bears the guilty alone.
This sudden burst of wickedness and crime
Was but the common madness of the time,
When in all lands, that lie within the sound
Of Sabbath bells , a witch was burned or drowned
Track Name: Fill The Goblet Again

Fill the goblet ! For I never before
Felt the glow which gladdens my heart to its core ;
Let us drink !--who would not ?--since, through life’s varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.

I have tried in its turn all life can supply ;
I have bask’d in the beams of a dark rolling eye ;
I have loved !--who has not ?--but what heart can declare,
That pleasure existed while passion was there ?

In the days of my youth, when the heart’s in its spring,
And dreams that affection can never take wing,
I had friends !--who has not ?--but tongue will avow,
That friends, rosy wine ! Are so faithful as thou ?

The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange,
Friendship shifts with the sunbeam---thou never canst change ;
Thou grow’st old ! Who does not ?--but on earth what appears,
Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years

Yet if blessed to the utmost that love can bestow,
Should a rival bow down to the idol below,
We are jealous !--who’s not ?--thou hast no such alloy ;
For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy.

Then the season of youth and its vanities past,
For refuge we fly to the goblet at last ;
There we find---do we not ?--in the flow of the soul,
That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl.

When the box of Pandora was open’d on earth,
And misery’s triumph commenced over mirth,
Hope was left,--was she not ?---but the goblet we kiss,
And care not for hope, who are certain of bliss.

Long life to the grape ! For when summer has flown,
The age of our nectar shall gladden our own :
We must die---who shall not ?---May our sins be forgiven,
And Hebe shall never be idle in heaven.
Track Name: Dorset

Rime Intrinsica, Fontmell Magna, Sturminster Newton and Melbury Bubb,
Whist upon whist upon whist upon whist drive, in, Institute, Legion and Social Club.
Horny hands that hold the aces which this morning held the plough-
While Tranter Reuben, T.S.Eliot, H.J.Wells and Edith Sitwell lie in Mellstock Churchyard now.

Lord’s Day bells from Bingham’s Melcombe, Iwerne Minster, Shroton, Plush,
Down the grass between the beeches, mellow in the evening hush.
Gloved the hands that hold the hymn-book, which this morning milked the cow-
While Tranter Reuben, Mary Borden, Brian Howard and Harold Acton lie in Mellstock Churchyard now.

Light’s abode, celestial Salem! Lamps of evening, smelling strong,
Gleaming on the pitch-pine, waiting, almost evensong:
From the aisles each window smiles on the grave and grass and yew-tree bough-
While Tranter Reuben, Gordon Selfridge, Enda Best and Thomas Hardy lie in Mellstock Churchyard now.
Track Name: Barabbas

G Barabbas that’s my name, A# C A# C
G Barabbas son of shame, A# C A# C
G Is the meaning I suppose; A# C A# C
G I’ m no better than the best, A# CA# C
G And whether worse than the rest A# CA# C
G Of my fellow-men, who knows? A# CA# C
A I was once, to say it in brief, C
A A highwayman, a robber chief, C
A In the open light of day. C
A So much I am free to confess; C
A But all men, more or less, C
A Are robbers in their own way. C
G From my caverns in the crags, A# C A# C
G From my lair of leaves and flags, A# C A# C
G I could see like ants below, A# C A# C
G The camels with their load A# C A# C
G Of merchandise, on the road A# C A# C
G That led to Jericho. A# C A# C
A And I struck them unaware, C
A As an eagle from the air C
A Drops down upon bird or beast; C
A And I had my heart’s desire C
A Of the merchants of Sidon and Tyre, C
A And Damascus and the East. C
G But it is not for that I fear; A# C A# C
G It is not for that I am here A# C A# C
G In these fetters bound; A# C A# C
G Sedition is the word A# C A# C
G That Pontius Pilate heard, A# C A# C
G And he dislikes the sound. A# C A# C
A What you think, would he care C
A For a Jew slain here or there, C
A Or a plundered caravan? C
A But Caesar! _ah that is a crime, C
A To the uttermost end of time C
A Shall not be forgotten to man C
X2 G.
Track Name: The Pains
THE PAINS OF SLEEP. By Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to pray
With moving lips or bended knees;
But silently, by slow degrees,
My spirit I to Love compose,
In humble trust mine eye-lids close,
With reverential resignation,
No wish conceived, no thought expess.

A sense o’er all my soul imprest
That I am weak, yet not unblest,
Since in me, round me, every where
Eternal Strength and Wisdom are,
But yester-night I prayed aloud
In anguish and in agony,
Up-starting from the fiendish crowd
Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me:

A lurid light, trampling throng,
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And whom I scorned, those only strong!
Thirst of revenge, the powerless will
Still baffled, and yet burning still!
Desire with loathing strangely mixed
On wild or hateful objects fixed.
Fantastic passions! Maddening brawl!

And shame and terror over all!
Deeds to be hidden which were not hid,
Which all confused I could not know
Whether I suffered, or I did:
For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe,
My own or others still the same
Life-stifling fear, soul- stifling shame.

So two nights passed: the night’s dismay
Saddened and stunned the coming day.
Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me
Distemper’s worst calamity.
The third night, when my own loud scream
Had waked me from the fiendish dream,
O’ercome with sufferings strange and wild,
I wept as I had been a child;

And having thus by tears subdued
My anguish to a milder mood,
Such punishments , I said, were due
To natures deeplest stained with sin,-
For aye entempesting anew
The unfathomable hell within,
The horror of their deeds to view,
To know and loathe, yet wish and do!

Such griefs with such men well agree,
But wherefore, wherefore fall on me?

To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love, I love indeed.
Track Name: Re-Twilight

THE twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.

But in the fisherman’s cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.

Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.

And a woman’s waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bending low.

What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they best at the casement,
Tell to that little child?

And why do the roaring ocean,
And night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the mother,
Drive the colour from her cheek?
Track Name: End Re-Echo

I saw as in a dream sublime,
The balance in the hand of Time.
O’er East and West its beams impended;
And day, with all its hours of light,
Was slowly sinking out of sight,
While, opposite, the scale of night
Silently with stars ascended.

Like the astrologers of eld,
In that bright vision I beheld
Greater and deeper mysteries.
I saw, with its celestial keys,
Its chords of air, its frets of fire,
The great Aeolian lyre,
Rising through all its sevenfold bars,

From earth unto the fixed stars.
And through the dewy atmosphere
Not only could I see, but hear,
Its wondrous and harmonious strings,
In sweet vibrations, sphere by sphere,
From Dian’s circle light and near,
Onward to vaster and wider rings,
Where, chanting through his beard of snows,
Majestic, mournful, Saturn goes,
And down the sunless realms of space
Reverberates the thunder of his bass.
Track Name: She Was Only A Woman

She was only a woman, famish’d for loving,
Mad with devotion, and such sleight things;
And he was a very great musician,
And used to finger his fiddle strings.

Her heart’s sweet gamut is cracking and breaking
For a look, for a touch,-for such sleight things;
But he’s such a very great musician,
Grimacing and fing’ring his his fiddle-strings.
Track Name: Faust
Faust, Mephistopheles And Ignus Fatuus;

G_A The Limits of the sphere of dream,
D The bounds of truth… and false, are past. C A ...
D Lead us on, thou wandering gleam, C A . . .
D Lead us onward… far and fast, C A…G
F To the wide desert waste. C D…..DCA…

G_A But see, how swift advance and shift
D Trees behind trees… row by row,-C A……..
D How, cliff by cliff, rocks bend and lift C
D Their frowning foreheads… as we go.
F How they snort, and how they blow! C D…….
E_F The giant-snouted crags, ho! Ho! C D……DCA……

D Through the mossy sods and stones, C A……..
D Stream and streamlet… hurry down- C A…….
D A rushing throng!… A sound of song C A……
D Beneath the vault… of heaven is blown! C A…….
F Sweet notes of love,.. the speaking tones C D..
D Of this bright day, C sent down to say A…..
D That Paradise on earth is known, C A…..
D Resounds around, beneath, above. C A…….
D All we hope.. and all we love C A…….
F Finds a voice.. in this blithe strain, C D…
E_F And vibrates far o’er field and vale, C D…
E_F And which Echo, like the tale C D..
D Of old times, repeats again. C A……DCA……..

D To-whoo ! twhoo ! Near, nearer now C A……
D The sound of song, the rushing throng! C A…..
D Are the screech, the lapwing, and the jay, C A…..
D All awake as if ‘twere day ? C A……
F See, with long legs and belly wide, C D….
D A salamander in the brake! C

A Every root is like a snake, A…..D C A……
D With strange contortions through the night, C A….
D Curls, to seize or to affright ; C A……..
D And animated, strong, and many, C A…….
D They dart forth polypus-antennae, C A……..
D To blister with their poisonous spume C A……
D The wanderer. Through the dazzling gloom C A…….
F The many-coloured mice, that thread, C
D The dewy turf beneath our tread, C
E_F In troops each other’s motions cross, C
D Through the heath and through the moss ; C A…..
D And, in legions intertangled, C A…….
D Fire-flies flit,…. swarm and throng, C A…….
D Till all the mountain depths are spangled. C A…..
F Tell me! shall we go on or stay ? C D….
E_F Shall we onward ?..C… Come along! D…
C Everything is swept forward, onward, far away! A.
D The trees and masses intercept C A…….
D The sight, and wisps on every side C A…….
D Are puffed up and multiplied. C A……..
Track Name: Peck Of Gold

Dust always blowing about the town,
Except when sea-fog laid it down,
And I was one of the children told
Some of the blowing dust was gold.

All the dust the wind blew high
Appeared like gold in the sunset sky,
But I was one of the children told
Some of the dust was really gold.

Such was life in the Golden Gate:
Gold dusted all we drank and ate,
And I was one of the children told,
‘we all must eat our peck of gold.’

With Much Adlib.