Song for six strings vol. II - Weather the storm

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Song for six strings vol. II

Red and Gold
 By Cropredy in Oxfordshire the Cherwell takes its course
 And willows weep into the waters clear
 My name it is Will Timms and it is here that I was born
 And raised in faith my King and God to fear.

 In 1644 the King in Oxford town did dwell
 Though we'd heard that Cromwell's army was nearby
 It did not occur to me that little Cropredy
 Could be witness to a meeting of both sides.

 Now on June the 24th that year I was about my work
 I was cutting hedges someway from the stream
 When my blade slipped, I cut my hand and my own dear blood did flow
 Upon the brown earth and the corn still green.

 Now it did distress me so to watch my own blood flow
 And quickly soak into the greedy ground
 In red and gold my colours swam and the sweat broke on my brow
 And faint I knew that I must lay me down.

 Now at first I thought the thundering was just inside my head
 And I raised myself above the hedge to see
 And watched as in a dream as two armies fought downstream
 The battle for the bridge at Cropredy.

 Now the Kings men they wore red and gold
 Though Cromwell’s men were plainer
 The blood they spilled was coloured just the same
 From the hedgerow’s fragile cover I saw brother killing brother
 And all this was done in Jesus’ name.

      Red and gold are royal colours,
 Peasant colours are green and brown
 Green is the corn in the brown earth when it's growing
 Red and gold when the harvest is cut down.

 Now all that day and all the next the battle it was raging
 Though when darkness came, I slipped away
 But the crying of the dying kept me wakeful and just lying
 In my bed until the dawning of the day.

 And the dreams that I had were red and gold
 And the little stream became a flood
 From all of my brothers killing one another
 Waking I did realise it was all my own dear blood.

 Some were buried in our church and some right where they fell
 With no marks to declare their place of rest
 But the poppies they did grow where they were never sown
 And to my mind they do declare it best.

 And each year when the green corn once again turns into gold
 And the poppies in the field they do remind me
 Like this scar upon my hand and the blood spilt on this land
 And the hungry earth so eager to confine me.

 For red and gold they are the colours
 One is blood and one is power
 Though I may one day rest by Cropredy church
 In golden fields forever blooms the poppy flower.

 By Cropredy in Oxfordshire the Cherwell is still flowing
 And the willows by its side still gently weep
 But still in restless dreams by this most peaceful stream
 The poppies do disturb my rightful sleep.

 And the dreams that I have are red and gold
 And the little stream becomes a flood
 From all my of brothers killing one another
 Till waking I realise it's all my own dear blood
 And in golden fields forever blooms the poppy flower
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