1. |
||||
|
I had nothing more to sing.
My guitar-picking hands
were dull, and cold, and damp -
like a blowfish, on a jetty bank,
soaking in the spray, on a wounded, Winter's day.
Last night, I dreamed
I was on a wooden beam
and a bushfire raged at both sides.
I dove into the darkness
and awoke, with the moonlight in my eyes.
There's an arrow in my tree.
There's a chasm in my sea.
There's a rider roping me.
I can't let today destroy
my portion of pride.
This blue world is full of joy.
This blue world is full of joy.
Tell me the tale
of little lost Ishmael,
of Jonah and the whale -
and the terrors of the age,
and the wingbeat, of the turtle dove
on the doomed and shining cage.
The one thing that they say,
when your heart has gone astray
is that better days come around.
There's a timeless horizon
one laboured glance
up off the sinking ground.
Everybody needs a sign
from time, to weary time
that a loving soul knows their mind.
I'll be a rock to thee,
you are the sweet grass at my feet.
You are my golden light.
I can't let today destroy
my love, nor my living.
This blue world is full of joy.
Yes, this day is mine to hold
in passion, and forgiving.
This blue world is full of joy.
|
||||
2. |
Treasure You
03:16
|
|||
|
I wrote a little song for you, in the mornin'
It ain't much, but it's true my darling
Ah - uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.
Every time I go to see you I'm a bundle of nerves
I come home and I feel like I'm on top of the Earth
Ah huh - uh huh, huh huh, uh huh.
Your laugh is like honey from wildflowers
Last night, your smile kept me up for hours
Ah huh - uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.
I love that you love the things that you do
I wish I had it in me to be more like you
Ah huh - uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.
I wanna treasure you.
I've never felt this way, about anyone.
I wanna stand by you
and be the man that you, you can lean on.
And be the man that you, honey can lean on.
The reddest robin, the bluest sea
They don't look that bright to me
Ah huh - uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.
'cause they don't give me butterflies
like your stunning smile, or your beautiful eyes.
I wanna treasure you.
I've never felt this way about anyone.
I wanna stand by you, and be the man that you,
you can lean on.
And be the man that you, honey can lean on.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Tired town.
Pretty face.
They grind you down,
and they hurl their blame.
You've split my crown
with your bones, and lace.
25 is too young
to feel half alive,
and to feel half hung.
Yeah, the lighthouse hums
like an iron lung.
Yeah, the water gleams
like a skeleton.
Stoned and drunk
on Shenton Street.
You feeling lucky punk?
Can you keep your feet?
Can you keep your job?
Can you keep it discreet?
Can you forget your pain
or does it sting too sweet?
Tired town.
I think you win.
Forget my smile.
Forget my sin.
Yeah, wash me down,
wash away everything.
Like blood on the ground
when the rain roars in.
|
||||
4. |
The Old Farm Debt
04:00
|
|||
|
Jacko took the back road at night.
Jacko did not turn on no headlights.
Jacko did not shiver, with frost or with fright,
and Jacko hit the back road that night.
Becky took a pen out of her hair.
She said, "Jacko, we both know that life ain't fair.
"We both need all the brawn that you can bear",
and Becky marked two crosses on her dress.
Becky had a .22 Ruger.
Jacko had three plugs in the glovebox of their car,
and Jacko had an old pistol, left over from his pa,
and Becky clutched an angry old memoir.
And when the harvest moon was bright,
three shots howled like devils, escaping in the night.
Two men lay dead, and a scratching pen did write,
and Becky hit the back road that night.
An old score got riddled full of holes.
Three kids cried out as the Wheatbelt news did unfold.
Two widows embraced, in the hovel that they sold
and one sister took the glitter from the gold.
Jacko, did it end the way it should have done?
Johnny, did it end the way it could have done?
Annie, take your money and run.
And Becky, swig your Passion Pop and rum.
|
||||
5. |
I Tried
03:18
|
|||
|
I can't say my sadness doesn't sting.
I can't say that I begrudge you anything.
I laid down my best for you -
it was too much to bring.
Thankyou for the happiness,
sorry for the suffering.
Your feelings have reasons, deep and true.
I had my own for loving you.
But being alone is all that some men can do.
Thankyou for the happiness,
sorry for the storm clouds too.
I tried.
I tried, I tried.
My love washed out, like petals on the tide.
But I tried -
darling, I tried.
You made me feel like I was floating in the sky.
Yes, you helped me see myself with pride.
Now that damn John Denver song, it makes me
break down and cry.
Thankyou for the happiness,
sorry our paths roamed so low and high.
I asked my teachers how sweet the good times get.
Some old preachers tell me joy is just a form of debt.
It's midnight, and the rain is
crushing my roof like lead.
Thankyou for the happiness
sorry and goodnight, my pretty friend.
I tried.
I tried, I tried.
My love washed out like petals on the tide.
But I tried,
darling, I tried.
I tried.
I tried - honey, I tried.
My love burned to nothing,
like smoke from a fire.
But I tried.
Darling, didn't I try?
|
||||
6. |
Pilbara Slavery Blues
03:48
|
|||
|
You can run from Cossack.
You can hide from Cossack.
You get shot on the spot in Cossack.
But you won't be going home, no way.
You won't be going home.
You won't be going home, no way.
You won't be going home.
They don't call them slaves,
they don't pay no wage.
They don't care what
do-gooders say, down in Perth
where they're so far away.
They're reliably informed
that the sergeant will look the other way.
Plenty of sun in Cossack town.
Plenty of pearl shell to be found.
Plenty of water for a man to drown.
But you won't be going home, no way.
You won't be going home.
You won't be going home, no way.
You won't be going home.
Blackbirds crying on Nannygoat Hill.
Laughter ringing through the window-sills.
Butcher's Inlet sucks her fill
from bones in a turquoise grave.
Bones in a tumbling grave.
Bones in a turquoise grave.
Bones in a tumbling grave.
40 degrees - see the convoy roam.
40 men shackled, marching slow.
Them chains blister you down to the bone.
But you won't be going home, no way.
You won't be going home.
You won't be going home, no way.
You won't be going home.
The red land's bleeding, like a bursted tick.
The water flies like foaming spit,
and coroner - come, investigate quick.
|
||||
7. |
Blues In The Country
03:30
|
|||
|
Blues in the paddock.
Blues in the lake.
Blues in the farmhouse.
Blues are the breaks.
Blues in the cold, hard cash
that you know that you can't repay.
Blues in the country
is blues out on the take.
Blues in the river.
Blues in the sea.
Blues in the sand.
Blues in the reef.
Yes, cold turkey - you can try again,
but you know how hard them shards do squeeze.
Blues at your starboard
and blues at your lee.
Blues ran through the harbour.
Blues ran through the town.
Blues ran in the houses.
Blues dug up the ground
at the cemetery, where they laid another body down.
Blues in your laughter, my father
and blues deep down in your frown.
|
||||
Darcy Hay Geraldton, Australia
Folk, country and blues singer-songwriter from the Midwest of Western Australia with a penchant for political and poetic lyricism, energetic guitar playing, authentic vocals and deft harmonica work
If you like Darcy Hay, you may also like:
The Studio Recordings Part One
by Fly My Pretties
The New Zealand's collaborative group's first studio album is chock-full of delightful folk and country music.
go to album
On this LP of gentle folk-pop, Durant looks to the water for the answer to life’s questions.
go to album
String Theory
by Fly My Pretties
featured on Bandcamp Radio Nov 8, 2016
go to album
Collaborating remotely with 12 songwriters from all over the world, Kim Edgar emerged with a work of striking art pop.
go to album
Dakota Blue Moon
by Jackson Harden
Gorgeous acoustic Americana from North Carolina, stripped-back and sublime.
go to album
Crafting powerful songs about commitment and love, the Nashville singer-songwriter channels and subverts ’70s country and folk tropes.
go to album
"Dustups" continues Body Surfer’s exploration of intimacy and personal history, rich acoustic folk deep in meaning.
go to album
