ORIGINAL LYRICS

WHEN I STEP OUT

I'll take down my old long cloak, hangin' by the door

I'll pick up my leather boots, up from off the floor

My father's cane of old blackthorn feels warm in my hand

I'll put on my cap well-worn and set out across the land.

When I step out on the road, when I step out on the way,

I'll follow that road where're it goes, when I step out this fine day.

No work, no work, I feel no shame, I'll do no work at all

I claim this day in my own name I'm feelin' ten feet tall.

I greet the day with open arms, I flash the sun a smile.

I look out over fields and farms, I pause there for awhile.

When I step out on the road, when I step out on the way,

I'll follow that road where're it goes, when I step out this fine day.

The road winds over hill and dale, it crosses rivers three

No ugly storm or blowing gale will be stopping me

No wall or cliff will bar my way, I'll slip right through the air,

and when I land I'll dust me off, not long and I'll be there.

When I step out on the road, when I step out on the way,

I'll follow that road where're it goes, when I step out this fine day.

TRIVIA

Hey, so, this song I wrote for my first kid, way back when kids were a new thing for us. It's our wish for all kids to find an an open way, free of obstacles, and free to grasp whatever opportunities in life may interest them. The cane is real, by the way, it belonged to our grandfather and I use it all the time. When I Step Out was the very first song I brought to the band, and I would have never, ever written one if David Miller had not kept after me to. - WJ

~All our original songs from Drop of the Creature~

WANDERLUST

Once I loved a lady she meant the world to me

Her eyes as green as a shady lake

Her smile like a springtime breeze

Her long hair shone like golden silk

with the rolling sea in her stride

I found my comfort in a feathery bed with my lady by side

But a long dark winter took her from me, I must have wept for forty days

As the sparks from the pyre flew up to the stars, I thought about my ways

My lady was my hearth and heat, my lady was my home

Without her love and without my tears I'll pick up my staff and roam

Harvest time turns the trees to rust and my travels bring me to town

The smell of raw blows up from the fields and the sounds of music rolls down

The skalds sing out and the merchants deal and the women dance till dawn

there's ale and merriment enough for me but in the morning I'll be gone

For I'm at my best when my boots wear thin I'll see the world by the mile

Every lake is green as a lady's eyes, every breeze is welcome as a smile

From caravans of gold and silk to ships on the new moon's tide

I found my comfort in a mossy bed with the road close by my side

Summertime brings the drums of war and banners from far far away

Fields burn as the farmers arm so I lend my sword to the fray

"You've won a place of honor here lad, why is it you won't stay?"

But the winding road keeps calling me back so this is what I say

I'm at my best when my boots wear thin I'll see the world by the mile

Every lake is green as a lady's eyes, every breeze is welcome as a smile

From caravans of gold and silk to ships on the new moon's tide

I found my comfort in a mossy bed with the road close by my side

On a cold mountain road in a traveler's inn I find shelter in the winter time

I warm my bones by the crackling fire and I trade my tales for wine

the innkeepers always ask the same, "What calls you to the open road?"

For an answer all they see is me vanish in the swirling snow

For I'm at my best when my boots wear thin I'll see the world by the mile

Every lake is green as a lady's eyes, every breeze is welcome as a smile

From caravans of gold and silk to ships on the new moon's tide

I found my comfort in a mossy bed with the road close by my side

TRIVIA

This is a song George brought to us one sunny day in a park where we were practicing and it just left us all flabbergasted. We knew he had one, and he kept postponing bringing it, over and over. And over. I recall at the time he said he reworked it constantly while musing in the shower and doing other work. Time well spent. - WJ

McPaw's Reel

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I say

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

Little Tommy Tim McPaw loved the girls but wouldn't pick one

A wealthy family he'd come from, quite a catch a grave-digger's son

He said I never plan to marry, a captured soul I shall never be

I shall die quite happily, with all the girls cryin' over me

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I say

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

Little Tommy tim McPaw was out one night drinkin' hard

He stumbled on his long walk home and cut across the graveyard

He danced and sang around the stones a captured soul I shall never be

I shall die quite happily with all the girls cryin' over me

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I say

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

You sing with spirit a voice cried out Tommy then saw a maiden fair

Her lantern lighted her pretty face and showed off the fire in her hair

she flirted with Tom as maidens will when their father's are far away

they danced and he begged her for a kiss as the music of locusts continued to play

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I say

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

She obliged to Tom's surprise her kiss was a cold as the stones and the dew

The maiden said I've been four years dead, now that we've kissed you're dead too

Early next morning they buried poor Tom at the spot where he died

The men drank whiskey to his life the girls stood over Tom and they cried

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I've said

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

So the ghost of Tom forever sings a captured soul I shall forever be

Dancing forever around the stones with the ghostly maiden who captured me

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I 've said

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-laddie listen close to what I 've said

Feel-a-lucky-a-li-a-lum don't step the graves, don't wake the dead

TRIVIA

David loved playing with the genre and worked out this jiggedy song after listening to the Clancy Brothers and the Rovers and Planxty until he began to hallucinate that leprechauns told him to send our first mailing of The Regurgitator (our Fan Newsletter) ((brilliantly written by him)) with envelopes stamped with "Warning: contains live goldfish". He somehow actually had this stamp. So we stamped them. All 175. We've always wondered how the post-office and our fans felt about that. We still think it's funny.

- WJ

Bewitchin' Brenda

I met the girl I love, before church on an August day.

I'd like to say she was heaven-sent, and for me did kneel and pray.

The first time I looked into her eyes, I thought ol' Fagen you're truly blessed.

For she stopped me on my holy path and unbuttoned her calico dress!

She's bewitching' Brenda, wears jewelry on her toes

Her hair is gold spun from the sun and her lips are red as rose

By day we fight and make love all night, sometimes till the afternoon

When the mandolins wail, she brews her own ale, and sings to the man on the moon

Well I told me mother that I loved Brenda, and she fainted in her Mulligan stew.

Papa sent for Father O'Kelly and the nuns at the convent too,

My brother said you're going to hell, where you'll burn and you'll blister

Then he took me aside, and he smiled wide, and said, tell me - has she a sister?

She's bewitching' Brenda, wears jewelry on her toes

Her hair is gold spun from the sun and her lips are red as rose

By day we fight and make love all night, sometimes till the afternoon

When the mandolins wail, she brews her own ale, and sings to the man on the moon

I married Brenda and she married me cause the old priest wouldn't think of it

We asked him to imbibe of a spiritual bribe, but the old man wouldn't take a drink of it

Word spread around through the whole town, that I had married a Pagan

Think what you will but she has her own still, and my last name, that's Fagen

She's bewitching' Brenda, wears jewelry on her toes

Her hair is gold spun from the sun and her lips are red as rose

By day we fight and make love all night, sometimes till the afternoon

When the mandolins wail, she brews her own ale, and sings to the man on the moon

TRIVIA

Unrelated to the song; in many of the old newsletters David crafted a romance between model Christy Brinkly and Wayne. We kept telling her Wayne wasn't interested, but she kept flying us around the world in her jet and baking us cookies in the hopes he'd come around. Also according to the newsletter the only quote we would ever give the press was "Beets, very large beets!" Theater of the Absurd is probably our true home.- WJ

Out in the Night

Don't go alone out in the night, it is not yours to own

Cling to pools of moonlight if through the night your goin'

Beware the sounding of the horn, it cries out for your soul

The Hunt rides out, the never-born, tis you that is their goal.

Oh fear that sight my wandering one, may you never hear that sound

for if you do my dearest one I fear you ne'er be found.

Beware the goblins o' the glen, the drumming and the song,

stray too close to that great din, and dinner you'll become!

Home and hearth stay here and rest, hearth and home by far the best!

By the fire just sit tight - awake at dawn - survive the night!

Avoid the forest if you can, Unseelie Court there rules

for that is where Black Alder stands and waits for passing fools

Pass not the ruins on the hills, Redcaps stand the watch

your blood is dye for hats to fill, don't end up one more notch.

If the coastline you must tread beware of plaintive cries

a mermaid wet, or selkie dread, will catch you with their lies

The mountains too are no safe place, hear the rumbling roar

Trolls moan, and giants PACE, and line their dens with gore.

Home and hearth stay here and rest, hearth and home by far the best!

By the fire just sit tight - awake at dawn - survive the night!

If on the road you meet a man in grey cloak with a staff

Toss him silver if you can, avoid his horrid laugh

Whate'er you do, stay clear the moors, its hidden falls and fens

Spirits want that which is yours - you'll not find home again.

Fearies too enchant the way, and pixies play they're part

Listen close to what I say, or be elf-shot through the heart

If you still think that you must go, take rowan and take rue

I'll teach you old songs that I know - they might just see you through...

Our thoughts will all be with you now, hold tightly to your pack

The horrors I describe are true! Please now, hurry back!

TRIVIA

Out in the Night is me telling my children it is bed time and explaining why they should stay in the bed. This is what happens when you eat too much folklore.

It's not really. You cannot eat too much folklore. And I would often invite the kids to get back up and march around the hallways. - WJ

Maybe. Did we mention we are unreliable trivia providers?

Tenderly

tenderly with sweet caress

tenderly she will cry

tenderly he'll kiss her hand

but never say good-bye

sparingly she savors hope

sparingly she will dream

sparingly with time enough

her smile though fleet may beam

savagely he fights abroad

savagely he clings to life

savagely he swears to God

he'll return to see his wife

sparingly she savors hope

sparingly she dreams

sparingly she says goodbye

slowly rending seams

TRIVIA

This is one those songs Wayne and I put together, like a hundred years back. He had this lovely tune and I made him play it over and over till these words made themselves known. We practiced in the day job back alley until we felt it'd be ok enough to bring to the band. Then they added their parts. I still really like Steve Marshall's flute coming forward at the end, and all of the sound effects George Curtis selected, on the entire Drop of the Creature album, (especially the crackling fire as this song begins. It still reminds me of all the times we spent around camp fires early on.) Music, friends and smoke-fire is a heady blend. - WJ

The Rakish Young Devil

The rakish young devil came to town by coach, he stepped to the street

and beat the dust from his pants. Bright yellow curls fell from his high bowler

and he stole away my Kate, with one blue-eyed glance

And I swear to the wild wind in revenge I will revel!

God give back my Kate and damn the rakish young devil!

The rakish young devil stepped in to the inn, where Katie caught sight

of him and how her eyes shown.

He lit up a smoke and he told her a joke and she smiled in a way

that I'd never known.

I watched from the corner, where my piano jangled songs of the

railroad for the drinking workmen, and every bitter stout sweet Katie

poured out, could not quench the thirst behind his devilish grin.

And I swear to the wild wind in revenge I will revel

God give back my Kate and damn the rakish young devil!

Day after day, the rakish young devil, came in and sat down at the very same place.

He spent his purse freely, with a stare at me steely. His whispers brought a blush to my

sweet Katie's face. The night of a cold moon they danced in the saloon with my back

turned away the two cooed and they kissed. My loyal young brother stood true to my honor, it pained him to tell me all that I had missed.

And I swear to the wild wind in revenge I will revel

God give back my Kate and damn the rakish young devil!

With my blood afire and burning in my chest I ran down the road to her father's green

farm, beneath a willow tree, they kissed passionately, the rakish young devil with

my Kate in his arms!

One shot rang high above the cold dead ground! My brother's pistol fell from my trembling

hand. My aim tainted by anger left sweet Katie dyin' though I meant to destroy the

rakish young man.

And I swear to the wild wind in revenge I will revel

God give back my Kate and damn the rakish young devil!

The rakish young devil disappeared in the darkness and Katie's wide eyes met with mine in despair. I rushed to her side, forgive me, I cried!

And her life drifted off on the cool autumn air...

Well they've built the gallows outside the jail window. The rake will live on long after my death.

But as a spirit that's damned, to misery eternal, I swear, I'll haunt that bastard till his dyin' breath!

And I swear to the wild wind in revenge I will revel

God give back my Kate and damn the rakish young devil!

And I swear to the wild wind in revenge I will revel

God give back my Kate and damn the rakish young devil!

TRIVIA

So, to call someone a rake; meant they were a womanizer, (short for rakehell: a hell-raiser, also usually wasting his rich-boy inheritance.) We referred to this song as our Irish immigrant song, in that we thought it was set during the early days of the wild west and all the characters in it were recent arrivals. It's a grand example of Dave's storytelling in song. I believe it is even more powerful when you hear us perform it live. -WJ

I'm So Stupid

Every little twist has got me fooled,

she plays me like a fish right out of school.

She hooks me and she reels me in,

tosses me back just to catch me again,

But I love her, I love her, I love her - I'm so stupid.

She wants diamonds and she wants flowers,

she wants to live in an Ivory tower,

spends my money and leaves me poor,

smiles and says, "Honey, can I have some more?"

But I love her, I love her, I love her - I'm so stupid.

Now, if I was king of land and sea,

I'd still ask the girl to marry me,

and if I was just a poor little fish,

I'd be glad to be served on her supper dish.

'Cause I love her, I love her, I love her - I'm so stupid.

'Cause I love her, I love her, I love her - I'm so stupid

TRIVIA

This gem was one of Dave's from before the formation of Wylde Nept, when he was still getting used to wearing steel arm-pits due to wounds received in WW1. And it was our first patron's favorite. She gave us our first break playing live at her place in CR, on a St. Patrick's Day long, long ago. She had us play, literally, all, day, long. All. Day. Long. A learning experience to say the least, but she was the best. Here's to the Left Bank and it's proprieter, hold her memory high, may she reside in lofty peace among all the lefties. -WJ

Ugly Mrs. Fen

One cold March mornin' I crossed O'Miller's moor,

w'me shepherd dog Clancy, on a distasteful chore.

Me mother sent me out with some soup for Mrs. Fen

Who's husband fell on his dickey and couldn't get up again.

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in.

For I don't wanna see the face of ugly Mrs. Fen.

She comes from France and she wears pants,

and smells like fishermen!

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in!

I knocked three times and Mrs. Fen opened up the door.

A nastier uglier hag I had never seen before.

She had hairy moles and blackened teeth and weighed 900 pound!

Poor Clancey took one look at her and fell dead on the ground.

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in.

For I don't wanna see the face of ugly Mrs. Fen.

She drinks from kegs, has hairy legs,

and a hideous devil's grin!

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in!

She took the soup from me hands and bid me do come in,

"It might make me husband smile if you paid your respects to him."

So I took off me cap and coat and walked over to his bed

he whispered to me, "Closer lad,'' and this is what he said,

"St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in.

For I can't stand another day, living' with Mrs. Fen

me outlook is ____, ___ _ ____ since me drunken wedding, friend!

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in!"

I felt so sorry for the man, I started in to cry

I reached into me pocket for me traveler o' rye.

We drank and we cried together till our eyes were red and sore

we got so drunk that we couldn't see her ugly face no more!

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in

For i don't wanna see the face of ugly Mrs. Fen.

St. Patrick lead me to the gates, St. Peter let me in

For i don't wanna see the face of ugly Mrs. Fen.

TRIVIA

Yes, this song is naughty. And funny. Yes, I purposely left out some of the lyrics, we even slur them on purpose live, because A: children, and B: we enjoy your guesses. Its not actually dirty. -WJ

No really.

Well. Maybe kinda. Also this is the song that first shined a light on Wayne's natural 'pained screams and animal noises' talent. It's actually quite astonishing how many traditional songs describe terrible things happening to animals. OK, maybe not too astonishing when you compare that to how many awful things are happening to the people in them...

The Bloody Drum

This story happened years ago, forty score or more,

a bodhran playing lad, dressed in plaid, went off to fight a war.

To take, bonnie Mohr the enemy, in the morning did come.

the boys only weapon was his bloody drum

Just his bloody drum. Just his bloody drum.

The drummer lad in kelly plaid, sounded a lively beat

as his regiment marched in time-o, down the village street.

No one ever knew, where the drummer he came from

but the town stood and cheered-o

For the bloody drum. For the bloody drum.

The fight took the whole day, and death crossed the field slowly

In no small shame the foe tried to claim final victory

for in the living the enemy still counted some and our only soldier still alive

was the bloody drum. Just the bloody drum.

He marched up to the enemy and challenged single-handedly

Surender asunder and die with wonder, I shall drive you into the sea

the enemy captain laughed. He said either you or I are dumb.

you can't drive us to the sea, you can't even hurt a flea

with your bloody drum. With you bloody drum.

He raised the goatskin o'er his head, and he began to pound

the sky cracked wide and the raiders all died when the lightning came down

the air was charged with sorcery and filled with a slow steady hum

of the wide thunder and the tide pulling under

the foes of the bloody drum. The foes of the bloody drum.

The town cried out for its hero, they cried out for his name,

and how they all did cheer-o, they promised to spread his fame

they offered shelter from the storm, but in he refused to come.

he let out a banshee call and disappeared in the squall,

he disappeared, the bloody drum. He disappeared, the bloody drum.

TRIVIA

So many questions about this story. I have no answers. I can't decide if Dave sounds a bit more like Cash or Dylan on the recording of this one. Maybe both? Oh, and feel free to argue about the pronunciation of bodhran, the traditional Irish drum. We were taught 'bow-rawn,' by an Irish bodhran player that sang and spoke Gaelic. Your experts can fight our experts elsewhere. There's a Bodhran Battle Arena near you. Oh - and ours can do sorcery. Just a heads up.

The Bandit Song

Oh I am a rover I roam the land over and I'll never settle until I get caught,

from village to township my sword hangs at my hip

and you'll never catch me I'll always be sought.

We hold the highways and we hold the hills
steal your silver make off with your tills
call down your kingsmen - we quicken our pace
Drive hard for the forest we live for the chase!

A knave so beguiling that while your still smiling
before you know it I've got all your gold.
And I am so dashing I'll escape the thrashing
so damnably vexing I'll live till I'm old.

We have the forest and we have the moors,
rustle your cattle and take what is yours.
Call the High Sheriff we couldn't care less!
Torture us glady we'll never confess!

No you cannot beat me nor ever defeat me.
I am but a sinner and I have no shame.
To filch all that glimmers purloin all that shimmers.
To nab it and grab it that's our favorite game.

We hold the alley and we hold the night.
We're always ready and willing to fight.
Put all your money right here in the sack!
Just do as we say, there's a knife at your back!

Ah we are hellacious, our greed is voracious
and no one is safe above our plans and schemes
Rogue's from a nightmare, we burgle with great care and
if you can hear this we've stolen your dreams.

We rule the backlands and we know the waste,
sneak into the village and ride off in haste.
We rob and we plunder and sunder and kill,
we wreck and we ruin and threaten with skill.

Yes we're here to scare you to trap and ensnare you,
rakish young devils we scoff at the law!
Remarkably daring, our nostrils a flaring,
make off with yer chattel our plans have no flaw!

We'll take the booty and we'll take the loot!
We all have daggers concealed in our boot.
Call the kings horses and all the lawmen,
we'll just evade them again and again.

Yes we are all blackguards, raise up all the tankards
and drink to the wild ways that led us astray.
Sometimes we are charming but most times alarming,
don't ever forget us or be our next prey!

We hide in shadows and hide behind trees.
We prove that there is no honor among thieves
We'll count up the gain, and you'll count up the loss.
Where is my dagger? In your gullet boss!

So in conclusion we thrive on illusion.
We're all in collusion, keep secrets or die.
We all conspire, around the campfire.
Make plans to go straight, of course I'd never lie.

TRIVIA

This is one of our most requested songs. Probably because there's no chorus, and we hardly ever sing it because none of us remembers all 28 verses. I wrote this for the Rogues, they know who they are. - WJ

~All the original songs from Live in 3-D~

The Gallows

It stands alone against the sky
Where seawinds blow and seabirds fly
A darkened and foreboding tree
Bet your purse it waits for me

The gallows wait, against the sky
The gallows wait, where seabirds fly
The gallows wait, foreboding tree
The gallows wait, it waits for me

Cold, alone, sway with the wind
Pray it’s not for you my friend
Though it’s true that I have sinned
This was not meant to be my end

The gallows wait, with the wind
The gallows wait, for you my friend
The gallows wait, for I have sinned
The gallows wait, to be my end

But I will not abandon hope
To yet avoid that sturdy rope
While you dance outside my cell
And think that I will go to hell

The gallows wait, abandon hope
The gallows wait, a sturdy rope
The gallows wait, outside my cell
The gallows wait, I'll go to Hell!

Upon these walls a true confession,
Thieving was my last profession,
I did not take her ring in flight
I stole away his wedding night

Just make it clear that’s why I died.
Then wipe the tears all from her eyes.
I stretched before I e'er was tried.
My life was purchased with his lies.

The gallows wait
The gallows wait
The gallows wait
The gallows wait...

TRIVIA

So we've made it to songs on our our second CD, recorded live at The Mill in Iowa City. One of our very favorite places to play, in a town full of cultural delights. Ok the song, so there's a lot of songs about going to the gallows, this is my contribution, such as it is. If there's any confusion, the hero is being hanged not because they were a thief, but because they eloped with someone else's love - probably some upstanding citizen that has sway over the law. I bet they escape, with the help of local gnomes and a rusty spoon, and they re-unite with their true loves and live happily ever after in Skopnoller. Perhaps I'm reading too much into it.- WJ

Some Kinda Ride

Woo!

TRIVIA

What? It's the only other original song on the album. I know it's an instrumental. That's ... that's pure poetry right there is what that is.

Woo!- WJ

~All the original songs from Traditional Routes~

We are The Storm

No more planning, no more schemes, no more fleeting foolish dreams

No halls to pace, no time to bide, gather up your gear we ride!

Rage against the wind, my lads,

Strain against the hour, swallow leagues and banish fear,

we ride!

Faster now a blazing trail, faster now we must not fail

thundering loud we muster pride, we are the storm for now we ride!

Rage against the wind, my lads,

Strain against the hour, swallow leagues and banish fear,

we ride!

Heavy weather in our eye, hear the raven's sounding cry

flank the left and charge the right, burst the clouds for now we fight!

Rage against the wind, my lads,

Strain against the hour, swallow leagues and banish fear,

we ride!

We ride!

Ride hard and trust your steed!

We ride!

Ride fast we must make speed!

We ride! We ride!

TRIVIA

All right, album three, different studio. There is such a genre as cavalry songs. Right? There is. I honestly have no idea what inspired this song, according to my notes; spiderweb doodle and flying dagger misses finger sniffing monkey. Big scribbly blotch. Date crossed out. Ok, I probably wanted some sort of rallying song, we had a fresh new lead guitar; Chris Pasbrig. - WJ

Four Oaks Lane

Elm do grieve, oak - he do hate, willow do walk, if you travels late.

Come sit closer to the fire, the night is cold and the wind blows higher

Warm your bones while I tell my tale, turn you cold it'll make you pale

It's been fifty years gone by, since Silas Smith lived on high

Did men wrong and women worse, he never prayed he only cursed!

Oh hear me, don't go walking, don't go walking down four oaks lane,

Deep through swampland where the willows

will make certain you don't return again.

Silas Smith he lived for greed, money filled his every need

He was boastful he was proud, one night he spoke a but too loud

At the tavern full to fight, stepped outside and yelled to the night

For his crimes he felt no shame - he'd go walking down four oaks lane.

Oh hear me, don't go walking, don't go walking down four oaks lane,

Deep through swampland where the willows

will make certain you don't return again

Here's a gift from me to you, now you know what you should not do

just ask Silas, he's there himself, that's his skull set high upon the shelf!

Oh hear me, don't go walking, don't go walking down four oaks lane,

Deep through swampland where the willows

will make certain you don't return again

Oh hear me, don't go walking, don't go walking down four oaks lane,

Deep through swampland where the willows

will make certain you don't return again

TRIVIA

One of my favorite authors is Manly Wade Wellman, whose tales of John the Balladeer I read as a kid and shared with my own kids when they were old enough. I feel his influence here. Also my brother and I used to sneak out to the park and walk late at night, and we'd sing old Kingston Trio songs up to the moon, as the dark trees loomed over. The snippet at the beginning is Steven quoting some 14th century doggerel, because... well, I like to read. I have no idea if the trees are out for justice or just predatory. I think maybe forests are just, even today, as much as I love them, places where danger may lurk. - WJ

Cursed, Hunted, & Haunted

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Will there come a day when I'm free?

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Dear God have pity on me.

As a lad I once ran off when they tried to switch me.

They called on a gypsy to spurl and bewitch me.

now my luck is drained by this horrible curse,

if a thing can go wrong rest assured, she'll go worse.

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Will there come a day when I'm free?

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Dear God have pity on me.

One day I was called out to pay by the tax man.

Broke, they sentenced me to the axe-man.

Breathless and tired now I'm forced to wander

No place for a rest or to stop for to ponder

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Will there come a day when I'm free?

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Dear God have pity on me.

I left a fair maiden to fight in the war.

Her face I did picture as I hit the shore.

But she died instead, and her image now haunts me.

I can't clear my mind how her face still does taunt me.

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Will there come a day when I'm free?

I'm cursed, I'm hunted, I'm haunted.

Dear God have pity on me.

TRIVIA

We tell the audience I wrote this one to fit in with a lot of the other traditional songs we were singing and listening to, because it fits the general dread captured by an overwhelming amount of Celtic folk songs. That's probably the truth. Sounds likely. Sure.

Ok, but understand this; I very, very seldom set out to write X kind of song. They mostly just enter my awareness and I try desperately to capture them before they drain away. Sometimes writing a song is the hardest thing ever, and sometimes they simply flow through you like you're a conduit. So if you don't like 'em, its ok, sometimes, neither do I. Sometimes they plop out and you're like, ew, let's fix that, urrgh, throw that out, and what is happening over here, yeesh. And sometime's you're just - yeah, ok, that's good, and rarely - ever so rarely, you get the kind I really hope for; one that moves you. Which is quite a tricky dance to pull off when you're the one pulling all the strings. You might still need to revise, even then.- WJ

Oh, I also love poetry and wordplay. Sometimes, as Lewis Carol did, I just make up words because they sound right, or taste best. Like in this song.

I Sailed the Ocean

When I was young and the world was blue,

my heart beat strong, my love was true.

I sailed the ocean each afternoon,

on a chair in the back of the room.

When I was little the world was too

father was tall, a park was a zoo

Cats could sing and my dog was smart

I couldn't wait for the next day to start

Magic dust danced in the rays of the sun

just watching clouds for hours was fun

Days lasted months, months lasted years,

and the darkness was my only fear

A box was a mansion and it could take flight

the moon up above came home every night

I loved the snow and I never got cold

and I couldn't wait to grow old.

When I was young and the world was blue,

my heart beat strong, my love was true.

I sailed the ocean each afternoon,

on a chair in the back of the room.

This is Morgan's song - WJ

One day I noticed him playing pretend on an old chair in my office, and I remembered, for a moment, childhood.- WJ

So it's auto-biographical, just, I don't know, recording kid thoughts?- WJ

TRIVIA

This one is another one that just Wayne and I worked out together. Some of the images are so nostalgic that I tear up when I sing it, so when we recorded it, I had to turn away from the crew and the rest of the gang. If you're very observant, you may notice a catch in my voice, or spot me tearing up on stage from time to time. Its because of all the rain. - WJ

Lighthouse Keeper's Lament

Lightning crashed and thunder roared two hundred pleas were plain

they'd get no closer to the shore for mercy in his name.

The crew and captain kept the course, hold steady as you go

When first they felt the slamming force, where is the guiding glow?

The hull cracked wide and all inside were swallowed and swept under

certain now their heartfelt cries were swallowed by the thunder

The sounds of screams and broken dreams and shouts of fear and pain

rose up along with splintered beams and fought against the rain

The ship's remains through all that strife swept up upon the beach

a few survivors clawed for life hoping safety was in reach

salt-filled eye and crusted hand taught with life's desire

A stream of lights poured down the strand, and hope grew slightly higher

But it was not just what it seemed that help come from the town

though eyes did glow and smiles beamed they had hoped all would drown

Yes all the town had risen up and the beacon they betrayed

They dowsed the light that sorry night for money to be made

TRIVIA

I'm pretty sure I'd just read some book or other about pirates that mentioned ship-breakers in passing. - WJ

Ghost Ship

One more year boys and a day, we'll set sail for far away

Till then we toil and work and sweat, till we pay off our cursed debt.

We've been trough the seven seas. We keep sailing with no breeze

Set no anchor, touch no land, with death's head gins and skeletal hands

At the edge we heard a cry, sailed on past and still we fly

We work the sails without wind, through seven hells for we have sinned

We've forgotten all the laws, lost in time the curse's cause

A ship of inmates a ship of death, our sails are filled by the devil's breath

One more year boys and a day, we'll set sail for far away

Till then we toil and work and sweat, till we pay off our cursed debt

The sun nor wind nor moon nor stars the salt sea mists are never ours

still we chase them shiver and shake, pray you don't cross, our burning wake

One more year boys and a day, we'll set sail for far away

Till then we toil and work and sweat, till we pay off our cursed debt

TRIVIA

Wrote this in 2001. We recorded this in 2002.

Curse of the Black Pearl? 2003 kids, 2003.

Arr...

We were piratey long afore ye gauwpy

lubbers!

Gyar.

also, my brother plays a mean accordion - drink up, Fishes!- WJ

TRIVIA

We should also definitely mention we were quite honored that this song inspired a writer to create a d20 adventure for Atlas Games, the scenario 'Devil's Breath' by Matt Sprengeler, in "En Route II - By Land or Sea," which entertains Wylde Nept in undead action. So cool! -WJ

The Razing of Jedborough

The candle burned the wick was high, it flicked and fluttered with a sigh

he licked his fingers, snuffed it out, faced the room, took up the shout