Song | Bal Maiden |
Artist | Seth Lakeman |
Album | Word Of Mouth (Limited Edition) |
One glance from the southern sky and a spark falls, she passes by. | |
Waking from the creeping dawn, | |
From the background of our valley torn. | |
Our maiden leaves a bed of stone, | |
Two hungry mouths to feed at home. | |
In a ruffled dress, in a bodies bound. | |
All tarnished boots, they weigh her down. | |
Come in close and I’ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
She’s a figure on a winding road, | |
She’s a face that fears no heavy load, | |
She walks a path where those can run, | |
She pounds her week for thirty tonnes. | |
Come in close and I’ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
In the half laid of the sunken shaft | |
The rumbling of a deeper blast. | |
Those steady stampers one by one | |
They draw the chambers and block the sun. | |
Come in close and I’ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
A last long leap, a crooked climb, | |
As she’s summoned from the steam and grime. | |
To a fading sun, a paler sky. | |
A pale window to her bloodshot eyes. | |
Come in close and I’ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
Growing old with no repair, | |
Her task and toll go undeclared. | |
Bal Maiden, now your works run dry. | |
Sweet widow from the deepest mine. |
One glance from the southern sky and a spark falls, she passes by. | |
Waking from the creeping dawn, | |
From the background of our valley torn. | |
Our maiden leaves a bed of stone, | |
Two hungry mouths to feed at home. | |
In a ruffled dress, in a bodies bound. | |
All tarnished boots, they weigh her down. | |
Come in close and I' ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
She' s a figure on a winding road, | |
She' s a face that fears no heavy load, | |
She walks a path where those can run, | |
She pounds her week for thirty tonnes. | |
Come in close and I' ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
In the half laid of the sunken shaft | |
The rumbling of a deeper blast. | |
Those steady stampers one by one | |
They draw the chambers and block the sun. | |
Come in close and I' ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
A last long leap, a crooked climb, | |
As she' s summoned from the steam and grime. | |
To a fading sun, a paler sky. | |
A pale window to her bloodshot eyes. | |
Come in close and I' ll tell to you, | |
Let those sweet notes rise and run me through. | |
Growing old with no repair, | |
Her task and toll go undeclared. | |
Bal Maiden, now your works run dry. | |
Sweet widow from the deepest mine. |