1. |
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In Meanwood Valley
By the old tannery
Smell the leather
See the dye stain your hands
Cruel hours and hard labour
The air is acrid
The sun is weak behind the cloud
The fell-monger
Will strip the wool from the hide
While we tanners
Will soak the skin in oak and lime
Please listen
When we say the work is hard
But there’s pride here
The Meanwood Valley knows it’s part
There’s cries heard in the night when you walk home
The morning heralds rain
We’ll see you at the quarry face
Or the leather works again
The common trees are long since felled
We can hardly bear the name
The wood shipped in from Ireland or France
For the tanning and the flames
The turning of the century has passed
The work moved overseas
A hundred thousand boots a week we made
From the factory floors of Leeds
At our height
Now it’s quiet
In the trees
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2. |
Sweet Spring (COB)
03:23
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A wind from the sea
Cross the hills rolling down green
Deep in the wood but your through
Winters black cloak is unclasped
Sweet Spring
Weaving a crown of leaves
Watch the grass grow green
The rain of the winter feeds the earth
And sun kissed flowers breathe the sweet air
Sweet Spring
This flesh humbly impressed
Bear witness thou art my lord
You hold me green and dying
Though I’ll sing in my chains like the sea
Sweet Spring
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Henry Parker Leeds, UK
Henry Parker's contemporary take on folk, which he explores via thoughtful yet deeply accomplished guitar playing, unfurls
and moves much like the landscape itself - mirroring the unpredictable, yet beautifully flowing, rolling hills and valleys of his hometown, the Aire Valley in West Yorkshire.
RnR Magazine - ★★★★★
Shindig! Magazine -★★★★
"guitar virtuosity and confident song-craft"
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