Okay, this is a thread for chord patterns for my songs - it's partly just a reference for me, certainly until such time as I actually get round to recording anything!
LindisfarneSing hey, ho
Am Em
Rolling down the sea along to Lindisfarne
Am C G
I'm going to take some gold back home to my love
G C
Who waits for me on the shore.
G Am
And it's hey, ho
G D
And the wind blows southward bound
Em Am
The wind blows southward bound, my boys,
Am
Oh, the wind blows southward bound.
Em Am
The wind's the huntsman at our back
Am C G
And we are its hunting hound.
Em Am
We've a hundred miles of sea behind
C G
And a hundred miles before
G D
So sing hey-ho and haul the sails
G D
'til we land on an English shore.
G Am
CHORUS (as first chorus)
The south wind sets us free, my boys,
The south wind sets us free
We'll find rings of gold and sword of steel
And new lands o'er the sea.
No care for church, no care for king
As the threads of fate are spun
We'll sing hey-ho and take our fill
And sail home with the setting sun.
Sing hey, ho
Rolling down the sea along to Lindisfarne
I'm going to take some gold back home to my love
Who waits for me on the shore.
And it's hey, ho...
Sing hey, ho
Rolling down the sea along to Lindisfarne
I'm going to take some gold back home to my love
Who waits for me on the shore.
And it's hey, ho
And the wind blows southward bound,
Yes, the wind blows southward bound,
The wind blows southward bound!
And the wind blows...
The Falcon Knight
There once was a knight, Harys his name,
Am G
A young knight of the vale,
Em D
Who loved a lass and loved her true,
G C
Of this I'll tell the tale.
G C
His true love she was beautiful,
D G
Her eyes blue as the sky,
D C
But when he came to her chamber fine,
G Em
His love he could not spy.
C D
Oh, the badger's low as mud, my boys,
G C
The lion's proud and gold,
Em D
The fish does shine for duty fine,
G C
And the wolf howls of the cold;
G C
The dragon's fire and blood, my boys
D G
The swallow swift and free,
Em C
But the falcon's high as honour
G C
And so was brave Harry!
D G
He rode up hills and rode down streams,
To find his lover dear,
"For if she's lost," young Harry cried,
"I'll have no honour here."
"Yes if she's lost I'll mourn and weep
For twelve years and a day
I'll search for her until I'm cold
And dead and in the clay"
CHOR
At last he came to a darkened cave
In which there lived a crone,
"You'll find your love on the mountain top
Where you must go alone"
For though I'm blind I see it true
Your babe is in her womb,
But guarded she is by a monster fierce
To send you to your tomb.
CHOR
He rode unto the mountain top,
The monster he was there,
"O, I am Harys of the Vale,
Come for my love and heir."
"Well you may try but you shall fail,
Your love is mine to keep,
I've been told I'll live 'til a falcon blue
Should climb my hill so steep."
CHOR
Then Harys drew his vorpal sword,
And took his shield strong,
Then the monster quailed and wept,
"Now I shall not live long."
For Harry's arms were a falcon blue;
The monster he did slay,
So there the monster fell and died,
And Harry won the day!
CHOR
Harys found his love above,
And kissed her there that morn,
He took her home and married her,
And there her babe was born.
So remember, you young squires
Who hear a battle's cry,
Fly to war like the falcon knight,
And hold your honour high!
My son is a lancer, his sword-arm is long,
C G Am
O'er rivers and moors he will roam,
C G
But the crops and the harvests they'll still be growing strong,
C G Am
When the Knights of Summer come home.
G Am
To win at the lists,
C
And to win in the field,
G
In search of the glory that battle may yield,
C G Am
All questing for honour,
Am
And questing for truth,
Em
So why do I wish him back under my roof?
Am Em E
My son is a lancer, his sword-arm is long,
O'er rivers and moors he will roam,
But the crops and the harvests they'll still be growing strong,
When the Knights of Summer come home.
He's a fine sword of steel,
With pommel of gold,
And where e'er he goes my son's sigils shine bold,
All clad in fine armour,
Of silver and black,
So why am I fearful my son won't come back?
My son is a lancer, his sword-arm is long,
O'er rivers and moors he will roam,
But the crops and the harvests they'll still be growing strong,
When the Knights of Summer come home.
He's brave and he's honest,
He's gentle and true,
And all knights who face him, that day they will rue.
But battle is fearful,
With the Stranger's harsh cry
And I want to see my son again e'er I die
Yes, my son's lancer, his sword-arm is long,
O'er rivers and moors he will roam,
But the crops and the harvests they'll still be growing strong,
When the Knights of Summer come home.
I just pray that my son will come home.
