shaun belcher songwriting

 

songwriting pre trailer star
home made cassettes 1991-1998

 

river ghosts 1995 edinburgh

to come

black tin barns 1996 didcot
Horseshoe Tapes 005 dbl.( unreleased)

1. PRODIGAL SON
2. BLACK TIN BARNS
3. TWO RIVERS MEET
4. ROOM 22
5. THE ROAD IS A RIVER
6. MY LITTLE TOWN
7. RAIN POURS THROUGH THE ROOF
8. THESE THREE ROOMS
9. BALLAD OF THE ORANGE TREE
10. DEVIL'S ADDRESS
11. THE FACTORY
12. MY FATHER'S TREES
13. RAIN COMING DOWN
14. THE LYNTON AND LYNMOUTH FLOOD
15. WISHING FIELD
16. BACK OF BEYOND

 

PRODIGAL SON

I WAS DRIVING WITH THE WINDOWS DOWN
ROUND THE STREETS OF MY HOMETOWN
PAST THE GARAGE THAT BURNED DOWN LAST FALL
NOW IT'S JUST SOME BLACKENED WALLS

AN OLD MAN WAS SHOUTING AT ME
'AIN'T SEEN YOU ROUND HERE SINCE '73
MUST BE THE PRODIGAL SON'

I GOT MARRIED BACK IN '69
WE HAD TWO KIDS BUT WE BARELY SURVIVED
THEN ONE DAY I ROLLED THAT OLD FARMER'S TRUCK
SEEMS LIKE I STARTED ON SEVEN YEARS BAD LUCK

NOW I'M DRIVING WITH MY EYES TIGHT SHUT
'COS I CAN'T BARE TO LOOK AT WHAT I LOVED
THERE'S A HOUSE ON THE CORNER OVER THERE
THAT'S WHERE SHE LIVES NOW, HELL I DON'T CARE

BLACK TIN BARNS

THERE'S AN OLD DIRT TRACK, A MUDDY STREAM
A WIDE OPEN FIELD SURROUNDED BY TREES
AN OLD TIN BARN THAT'S FALLING DOWN
WHERE I USED TO ROLL IN MY SWEET BABY'S ARMS

OH COUNTRY TRACKS TAKE ME BACK
TO THE FARM OF THE BLACK TIN BARNS

NOW ALL I CAN DO IS SIT AND STARE
ACROSS THESE FIELDS AT TREES SO BARE
ALL AROUND ME THERE'S JUST STICKS AND STONES
NOTHING BEEN PLANTED SO NOTHING GROWS

WHEN I WAS YOUNG I USED TO DREAM
OF YOU GIRL OUT HERE IN THESE FIELDS OF WHEAT
BUT NOW THE WIND'S COME AND TORE EVERYTHING UP
AND ALL THAT'S LEFT IS THIS HANDFUL OF DUST

ROOM 22

STANDING AT THE WINDOW LOOKING NORTH
THROUGH THE POWER-LINES AND THE RAIN AS IT FALLS
IT FEELS THE SAME AS THE DAY WE BOTH STAYED
IN THIS CHEAP HOTEL ROOM OVERLOOKING THE TRAINS

SAME ROOM, ROOM 22

THEN THE HILLS WERE ALL COVERED IN SNOW
ALL WE COULD SEE WERE BARE TREES AND CROWS
THEN I REMEMBER US WALKING AROUND THIS TOWN
AS THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS WERE BEING SHUT DOWN

NOW YOU'VE MARRIED SOMEONE ELSE DOWN THE LINE
MAYBE I'VE PASSED BY YOUR HOUSE ONCE OR TWICE
BUT TONIGHT ALL I HAVE HERE IS THE MEMORY OF YOU
AS I STARE AT THESE POWER-LINES AND A RAIN-FILLED VIEW

WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET

I WAS BORN WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET
I LEARNT TO SOW AND I LEARNT TO REAP
THEN I WENT TO THE UNIVERSITY
LEARNT ALL THE WORDS A RICH MAN NEEDS

OH MARY, OH MARY,
WILL YOU WAIT FOR ME
WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET

MY SHIP IT LEFT PORT AT DEAD OF NIGHT
THE FULL MOON ON THE SAILS DID SHINE
WE PASSED THROUGH LANDS OF ICE AND SNOW
TWO DIED BELOW, THEIR BODIES FROZE

I FOUND A PLOT IN AMERIKY, CUT BACK THE TREES
THEN A POISONED SNAKE BIT INTO ME
THEN DELIRIOUS I THOUGHT I SAW YOU, MY MARY
DRESSED IN WHITE WALKING ACROSS THE SEA

TAKE ME BACK TO WHERE TWO RIVERS MEET
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AYR AND DUMFRIES
THE ROAD IS A RIVER
THE ROAD IS A RIVER

MY WINDOWS ARE FULL OF STEAM
AND THAT WOMAN I REMEMBER
WALKING ACROSS THESE FIELDS
AND THE ROAD IS A RIVER
AND IT TAKES US AWAY
FAR FROM THESE FIELDS OF STRAW
THESE EMPTY BARNS IN THE RAIN

AND THE ROAD IS A RIVER
MAYBE ONE DAY YOU'LL COME BACK THIS WAY
IN A CAR OF CHROME AND SILVER
FLOATING THROUGH THESE FIELDS OF RAIN

 

MY LITTLE TOWN

THERE'S A ROAD RUNS STRAIGHT THROUGH MY LITTLE TOWN
AND HALF WAY DOWN IT THERE'S A PICTURE-HOUSE
BUT NOW IT'S BEEN TURNED INTO A BINGO HALL
THEY DON'T SHOW FILMS THERE ANY MORE

AND THE ROAD RUNS STRAIGHT THROUGH MY LITTLE TOWN

THERE'S A RAILWAY-LINE IN MY LITTLE TOWN
AND ALL THE KIDS CAN THINK OF IS GETTING OUT
SEE THEM ON THE PLATFORM ON A SATURDAY NIGHT
BIG CITY LIGHTS SHINING IN THEIR EYES

AND THE LOCAL PUBS ARE EMPTY NOW ON A SATURDAY NIGHT
BUT COME HALF PAST ELEVEN YOU'RE STILL GUARANTEED A FIGHT
WELL WHAT ELSE CAN THESE POOR BOYS DO
THAN GET BLIND DRUNK AND ACT THE FOOL

THESE THREE ROOMS

THESE THREE ROOMS WORN AND BADLY LIT
DECORATED WITH PAINT INCHES THICK
AND BEHIND CURTAINS WHERE THE DUST SITS
THE FRAMES RATTLE, NEVER MADE TO FIT

STAY WITH ME THROUGH THE NIGHT
STAY WITH ME UNTIL THE MORNING LIGHT
AND YOU WILL SEE THESE THREE ROOMS SHINE

THE CARPETS ARE DULL AND TENANT-STAINED
MAYBE THEY WERE BRIGHTER IN BETTER DAYS
NOW THE LINO SLIDES ACROSS THE FLOOR
AND THE BATHROOM PAPER PEELS OFF THE WALL

FORGIVE ME ALL THE POVERTY I BRING
THIS CHEAP BOX, THIS BED AND SINK
HOLD FAST NOW LIKE THESE PLANTS THAT CLING
TO THE WINDOWSILL WHERE THEY TWIST AND JINK

TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THINGS WILL IMPROVE
THAT THESE FOUR WALLS ARE NOT OUR DESTINED VIEW
AS EACH OF THESE PLANTS WILL OUTGROW THIS ROOM
SO THIS SMALL FLAT WILL BE OUTGROWN TOO

BALLAD OF THE ORANGE TREE

BORN IN ENGLAND'S LOW CHALK HILLS
WHERE THE THAMES SLIDES THROUGH THE WILLOWS
NEVER KNEW HOW TANGLED GREW THE TREE
OF MY MOTHER'S FAMILY HISTORY

THEN ONE DAY A PHOTOGRAPH EMERGED
MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDMOTHER BY THE KERB
OF A BACKSTREET SOMEWHERE IN READING
HER IRUISH FEATURES BOLD AND STRIKING

ALL I'D HEARD WAS RUMOUR AND HINT
OF HOW SHE'D FLED ULSTER, HER A CATHOLIC
OUTCAST FOR MARRYING A PROTESTANT MAN
ONE WHO WORE THE DREADED IMPERIAL TAN

SENT TO BOMBAY, MY GREAT-NAN'S BIRTHPLACE
THE ARMY CONNECTION DIDN'T THEN BREAK
THREE GENERATIONS SINCE HAVE WEDDED THE GUN
ONE OF THEM BLED TO DEATH AT ARNHEM

AND NOW WITH GREAT SADNESS I SEE
MY COUSIN HAS JOINED THE BRITISH ARMY
MAYBE ONE DAY HE'LL HAVE TO SERVE
ON STREETS WHERE SHE COULD NEVER RETURN

NOTHING OF HER PAST NOW REMAINS

ALL IRISH CONNECTIONS WERE SLICED AWAY
AS OUR FAMILY GREW ON IN A DIFFERENT PLACE
LIKE AN ORANGE TREE IN WOODEN CRATE

SCRAPING BACK THE SOIL IN A BARREN FIELD
I FIND A RUSTY GUN STAMPED IN WITH THE HEEL
A FAMILY SOWN WITH KING'S SHILLING SEED
NOW ROOTED IN THE THAMES VALLEY GREEN

BURY THE GUN UNDER THE ORANGE TREE

THE DEVIL'S ADDRESS

I'M IN HEAVEN THAT'S WHAT THE SIGN SAYS
THIS BAR'S MORE LIKE HELL, EVERYTHING PAINTED RED
EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE A TRUCK GOES BY HEADED NORTH
HEADLIGHTS FLASHING ACROSS THESE SMOKY WALLS

IF YOU WANT TO FIND ME
JUST POST A LETTER TO 'HAPPINESS'
BUT MARK IT CARE-OF
CARE OF THE DEVIL'S ADDRESS

I STARTED DRIFTIN' WHEN I COULDN'T PAY THE RENT
ON THAT MOBILE HOME, WAS MORE LIKE A SHED
I SPENT EVERY WINTER JUST A WATCHIN' THE RAIN
TURN THAT GRAVEL PATH INTO A LAKE

NOW I'M FINE AND DANDY BUT I'M ALL ALONE
JUST ME AND THE SPARKLE OF THE TARMAC ROAD
THOUSAND MILES BEHIND ME, WIFE'S IN ANOTHER MAN'S BED
THOUSAND MILES AHEAD OF ME BEFORE I'LL EVER REST

THE FACTORY

MEN ARE RIDING ACROSS THE WINTER FIELDS
BYCYCLE LIGHTS SPARKLING IN CHROME WHEELS
WORKING DUSK TO DAWN IN THE FACTORIES
WHOSE LIGHTS SHINE THROUGH THE TREES

OH CAN'T YOU SEE, CAN'T YOU SEE
THIS USED TO BE A FACTORY

NOW THOSE MEN ONLY RIDE IN THEIR DREAMS
THE FACTORIES ARE GONE, ONLY FIELDS OF WEEDS
AND THOSE MEN HAVE GRANDSONS WITH COMPANY CARS
YOU CAN SEE THEM EVERY DAY RACING AROUND THE BYPASS

BUT TEN MILES OUT OF TOWN THERE'S A SCRAPYARD
WHERE THEIR FIFTY YEARS OF LABOUR IS FALLING APART
IF YOU STARE INTO THE RUSTY CHROME BUMPERS YOU'LL SEE
THE GHOSTS OF MEN POLISHING BONNETS AND WHEELS

MY FATHER'S TREES

WELL NOW I'M OVER FORTY
AND ALL MY GOOD LUCK'S BEEN SPENT
I WISH I COULD GO BACK
TO THE PLACES THAT I'VE LEFT

OH I WISH I COULD BE
SITTIN IN THE SHADE OF MY FATHER'S TREES

HE PLANTED THEM IN '63
NOW THEY'RE SO BIG AND TALL
BUT THE ROAD HE PLANTED THEM BY
ISN'T A ROAD ANY MORE

AND THERE'S A LINE OF CARAVANS
PARKED IN THE WAY
AND THERE'S A LITTLE KID SITTIN' IN THE SHADE
JUST DRINKIN LEMONADE

RAIN COMING DOWN

SHE STOOD AT THE WINDOW CRYING
AS THE STORM DRIFTED OVER THE TOWN
LIGHTNING FLASHED BEHIND THE CHURCH STEEPLE
AS THOSE BLACK CLOUDS CREPT AROUND

AND SHE WATCHED THE RAIN COMING DOWN
ON OXFORD TOWN

NOW HE WAS HEADED FOR SOUTHAMPTON
THROUGH FLAT AND BATTERED FIELDS
IN HIS MIND HE SAW HER AT THE WINDOW STILL
GLASS MISTING AS SHE BREATHED HEAVILY

HE COULDN'T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED
THE LIGHTS WERE ON THE BED WAS STAINED
HE'D LEFT HIS JACKET THERE ON THE CHAIR
SHE HADN'T TURNED OFF THE RECORD, LEFT IT PLAYING

JUST SAT THERE SAYING NOTHING
AND WATCHING THE STORM COMING…

THE LYNTON AND LYNMOUTH FLOOD

WELL NO-ONE KNEW WHERE ALL THE WATER CAME FROM ON THAT FATEFUL DAY
BUT IT CAME DOWN LIKE A WALL AND WASHED THE HOUSES AWAY
SOME POOR FOLKS WERE DROWNED AND SOME POOR FOLKS SURVIVED
AND TO THIS DAY NO-ONE KNOWS THE REASON WHY
THAT WATER RAN SO FAST AND HIGH

THE NIGHT OF THE LYNTON FLOOD

MY DAD WAS JUST A BOY OF TWELVE, DIDN'T LOOK HIS AGE
IN A PHOTO TAKEN THERE TWELVE MONTHS BEFORE
THE ROAD BENEATH HIS BYCYCLE WHEEL JUST SLID AWAY
AND THE HOUSE BEHIND DISAPPEARED INTO MUD AND CLAY

I WAS THERE IN '76 WITH ANOTHER BUNCH OF KIDS
ART STUDENTS DRAWING WITH CHARCOAL STICKS
WHEN I SAW THE MONUMENT HIGH UP ON THE WALL
SHOWING WHERE THAT FLOOD POURED THROUGH

THE NIGHT OF THE LYNTON FLOOD

WISHING FIELD

CAN'T SHAKE THE MUD FROM MY HEELS
FEEL LIKE A TRACTOR SUNK UP TO ITS WHEELS
EVERY TIME I TRY TO QUIT AND RUN AWAY
I KEEP COMING BACK TO THIS OLD CLAY

FURTHER OUT I GO THE DEEPER IN I PLUNGE
FEEL THIS SOIL DEEP INSIDE MY LUNGS
NEVER GONNA ESCAPE THESE WISHING FIELDS
I'M TIED TO THESE WISHING FIELDS

NOW MY FATHER AND HIS FATHER BEFORE HIM
BELIEVED IN THIS LAND, BELIEVED IN EVERYTHING
BUT ONE MAN CAN'T TURN A FAILING FARM AROUND
I'LL DIE A POOR MAN, LAID IN THIS COLD GROUND

NOW THE BAD WEATHER NEVER SEEMS TO LEAVE
BLACK HAIL IS A SEEPING THROUGH THE TREES
I'M STARING DEEP INTO A POISONED WELL
WISHING I COULD DRAG MYSELF AWAY FROM THIS HELL

THE WISHING FIELDS

BACK OF BEYOND

I CAME BACK FROM THE NORTH COUNTRY
ON A COLD WINTER'S NIGHT IN '63
ALL I COULD SEE ALL AROUND ME
WERE DEAD TREES BLOWING IN THE BREEZE

PEOPLE WON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT THE HELLS BEEN GOING ON
THIS AIN'T THE PLACE I REMEMBER COMING FROM
FEELS LIKE THE BACK
THE BACK OF BEYOND

THE STATION'S CLOSED, WEEDS BETWEEN THE RAILS
NOBODY WAITING EVEN FOR THE GHOST OF A TRAIN
SEEMS LIKE THE HEART OF THIS TOWN NO LONGER BEATS
THERE'S NOTHING AT ALL MOVING DOWN THESE DESERTED STREETS

WELL I WALKED INTO THE ONLY PLACE I KNEW
THE OLD BAR EXPECTING A FRIENDLY FACE OR TWO
BUT EVERYBODY I KNEW HAD ALREADY GONE
PEOPLE LOOKED AT ME LIKE I NEVER HAD BELONGED

MARY WARNED ME NOT TO TRY AND GO BACK
TOLD ME NO GOOD CAME OVER GOING BACK ON YOUR TRACKS
FELL LIKE I'M LOST NOW, IN SOME DARK DREAM
ALL I CAN SEE IS THOSE DEAD TREES SHAKING IN THE BREEZE

© ShaunBelcher / Horseshoe Songs 1998.