Sheltermore

by Kev Adams

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about

The last of my acoustic recordings, from 2006 to 2010. Traditional songs and self penned numbers.Putting 'Sheltermore' together has been a bitter-sweet experience. I finished 'Waiting For The Word' in 2006 and started assembling ideas for another collection. Some were more or less finished, but many were only in demo form when poor health ambushed me in 2010. I survived cancer but was then diagnosed with MS. I am now in a wheelchair, but worse, my hands can no longer manage stringed instruments. Thank heaven for computers! Here are fifteen songs that been rescued and finished off.

credits

released September 11, 2015

Thanks to:
Martin Appleby: bass guitar on 'The Heart of England'.
Godfrey Yeomans: bass guitar on 'Rover'.

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all rights reserved

about

Kev Adams Milton Keynes, UK

Blending traditional folk music with a love of other genres- classical, jazz, folk-rock, prog-rock, pop… music, music, music…

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Track Name: Heart of England
The Heart of England
Words & music Kevin Adams

It’s the best kept village but it’s not so far
To a hedge full of litter and a burnt out car
And down in the meadow where the elm trees grew
The council are going to put a bypass through
So why, I can’t explain, I begin the search again
And my thoughts drift down some other leafy lane.

The village green and a glass of ale
Get your bids in quick ‘cos it’s up for sale
Where the bee sucks there suck I
Where the chain saws are ripping up a triple-S.I.
And I can no longer stay ‘cos the traffic moves away
And I’m on that slip road to the motorway

All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.
All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.

A cracked voice sings from a phonograph
The Rigs of the Times and the Seeds of Love
Bells on shin pads, bells on toes
We’ll have music wherever we go
It’s a Whitsun holiday, hear the concertina play
Then the juke box starts and the tune is blown away

All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.
All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.

The dancers standing row on row, the fiddler rosins up the bow
And the only tune that fiddle could play
Was Over the Hills and Far Away.

The thin red line has had its finest hour
The ravens are queuing up to leave the Tower
The kids are bashing hell out of old Drake’s Drum
And the Yankees are taking us to Kingdom Come
But I know there’s something there
I can feel it in the air
The heart still beats but I can’t quite work out where.

All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.
All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.

When I was a boy I thought I would
Live in the forest with Robin Hood
Ancient secrets wait for me
Under the Shade of the Greenwood Tree

All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.
All my life I’ve been looking for the heart of England
All my days I’ve been wondering where I am.
Track Name: The Rambling Comber
The Rambling Comber

You combers all both great and small
Come listen to my ditty
For it is ye and only ye
Regard my fall with pity
I can read, write, dance and fight
Indeed it's all my honour
My failing is I drink strong beer
I am a rambling comber.

And it's oh my dear I love strong beer
I am a rambling comber.

Now it's on the tramp I'm forced to scamp
My shoes are all a-tatter
My hose unbound all on the ground
I seldom wear a garter
I have a coat - scarce worth a groat
I sadly want another
But it's oh my dear I love strong beer
I am a rambling comber.

I have no watch, I have a patch
On both sides of my breeches
My hat is torn, my wig is worn
My health is all my riches
Oh would I had some giggling lass
My coat all for to border
With straps and bows - I would hold those,
I'd hold them in good order.

A tailor's bill I never fill,
I never do take measure.
I make no debt that doth me let
In taking of my pleasure
Nor will I 'til I grow old
Then must I give it over.
Oh then old age will me engage
For being a rambling comber

A pitcher boy I will employ
While I have cash and credit
I'll ramp and roar and call for score
And I'll pay them when I have it
For this is always in my mind
Let me be drunk or sober
A bowl of punch my thirst to quench
And a quart of old October.

Traditional
Track Name: Bright Colours
Bright Colours
(The Carter)

When I were a young man I went with a team,
And me only delight was in keeping them clean.
With brushes and curries I'd show their bright colours,
And the name that they gave I was hearty good fellow.

As ever at evening when I goes to my bed,
The thought of my horses comes into my head.
And I rise the next morning with something to eat,
Just as soon as I can get my shoes on my feet.

And when we goes driving out on the highway,
When light goes my load then I gives them some hay;
And I gives them some water when we comes to a pond,
And after they've drunk, boys, go steadily on.

My feet do grow weary a-walking by their side,
And I says to myself, "You must get up and ride,"
And as I was riding I made a new song,
And as I do sing you must learn it along.

When I were a young man I went with a team,
And me only delight was in keeping them clean.
With brushes and curries I'd show their bright colours,
And the name that they gave I was hearty good fellow.

Traditional
Track Name: Safety In Numbers
Safety In Numbers
Words & music: Kevin Adams

I do my best to say the right thing
I play the game they taught me, I find it frightening.
I get confused, my theory crumbles
Then I retreat inside my head full of numbers.
People are foreign to me, I can’t predict them
There is no pattern to see, no way to fix them

Lost in a crowd, I search the faces
I know you’re waiting for me in secret places.

There may be rules- I can’t apply them
Can’t work them out by logic and can’t live by them
You were the one, the one exception
Now I am left to lead this life of deception

My side of life’s equation I see so clearly
My differentiation is bought so dearly

Lost in a crowd, could this one be you?
I know you’re waiting for me- I can’t quite see you

Numbers are steady and true, no clumsy fumbles
One and one always make two- safety in numbers

Lost in a crowd, some way behind you
I know you’re waiting for me- but I can’t find you.
Track Name: Our Captain Calls
Our Captain Calls

Our Captain calls all hands to sail tomorrow,
Leaves many a fair pretty girl in grief and sorrow.
What makes you go abroad fighting for strangers,
When you could stop at home, free from all dangers?

When I had gold in store you did invite me,
Now that I'm low and poor you seem to slight me,
Dry off your brandy tears and leave off weeping,
For happy we shall be at our next meeting.

Oh you courted me a while just to deceive me,
Now my heart you have gained you means to leave me,
Saying there's no belief in man, not my own brother,
So girls if you can love, love one another.

Traditional
Track Name: Sheltermore
Sheltermore
(David Bodley’s Song)
words & music: Kevin Adams

My father farmed these fields
When horses drew the plough
And I would sit upon a stool
To milk a cow.

The sheep on Sheltermore
The cows on Second Ground
The pigs and poultry in the yard
The years turn round

A tractor shining new
To plough on Sheltermore
To leave the farm hands free to go
To fight a war.

My father left this farm
Ten years beyond that war
Now concrete covers Second Ground
And Sheltermore.

But I look from here to there
No city do I see
Still peacefully our horses graze
On green Rooksley.

No shops on Little Hills
No traffic down Long Line
The rooks are building in the elms
I turn back time.

My dad worked on these fields
As many had before
On Little Hills and Second Ground
And Sheltermore.
Track Name: Rover
Rover
words & music: Kevin Adams

The ‘Dog’s Mouth’ in Cosgrove was locally famous
The fellow that lived there was old Farmer Amos
And breeding of farm dogs was his stock in trade
If you want a dog, go to Amos.
Mother had saved a few shillings to pay
So father walked over to see him one day
He picked out a puppy and brought him back home
Dick and Bet christened him Rover.

You’re a good dog, now you’re our dog
You’ll come to no harm
You’re a Calverton farm dog, you’re Rover

A farm dog’s a worker, he doesn’t need petting
Worm him baccy, don’t get the vet in;
He worked with the cattle, he worked with the sheep,
And Dad could rely upon Rover
During the war there was little to eat,
Everything rationed, especially meat.
Rover would contribute in his own way-
Two rabbits for our Sunday dinner

Caught them all on your own, boy,
Now chew on the bones,
You’ve a nose for a coney, old Rover


Rover was trusty and loyal and clever
When dad told him ‘stay!’ he would sit there for ever
Guarding the baby that lay in the pram
No-one would tangle with Rover.
‘I won’t be long boy, so just you take care
Watch over the children and just stay right there.’
Rover would lie with us down by the fire-
Nothing could harm us with Rover.

You’re a good dog, you’re a farm dog
And we’ll come to no harm
Watched over by faithful old Rover

We cried when he died, Rover left us too soon
But now we remember at every full moon
Some see a crab and some see an old man
But we see the face of our Rover

You’re a good dog, you’re a farm dog
And we’ll come to no harm
Watched over by faithful old Rover

You’re a good dog, you’re a tough dog,
You’re a rough, rough, rough dog-
Watched over by faithful old Rover
Track Name: Here Is Jack
Here is Jack
words & music: Kevin Adams

Here is Jack. Here is Jack.
They swapped his cornet for a rifle and pack.
The guns are firing and there’s no turning back
And Jack is thinking this is not what he planned.
He joined the army just to play in the band-
So now this living nightmare he can’t understand.

He sees a well known face as the nurses arrive.
His sister Mary says, “Thank God , you’re alive!”
They hold each other as the men shuffle by.
It’s all too much for him, he just has to cry.
“Oh get me out of here Mary, I don’t want to die."

And here am I, fortunate one
No way to understand the harm that was done
Never had to put on khaki, never made to fire a gun.
Fortunate one.

Here is Jack. Here is Jack.
Some years later and he came through the lot.
A touch of gas on the lungs was all that he got.
He’s made a home now and he’s married his bride.
“How was it, Jacky?” “It was cushy” he lied.
He never talks about it, it's locked up inside.

He plays his music at the palais de dance.
It gets him out of the house and he needs every chance.
But there are times when he can still hear them guns.
He’s back in Flanders facing up to the Huns-
It’s slowly dawning on him- it’s just them old drums

My mother’s father who I barely knew.
Here is his cornet; campaign medals too.

And here am I, fortunate one.
No way to understand the harm that was done
Never had to put on khaki, never made to fire a gun.
Fortunate one.

Here is Jack. Here is Jack.
Track Name: The New Deserter
The New Deserter

I am a young farmer and Johnny is my name,
In Oxfordshire lived when I followed my team;
My friends turned against me and told me to go
To seek a new master, which proved my woe.

It’s alas! and alas! and what sad cruelty,
It’s oh, the king’s duty lies heavy on me.

When I came to the statutes in grief and despair,
Then who should I meet but the sergeant was there.
He asked me and invited me, and did tell me so,
Unto the king’s barracks I was forced for to go.

The first time I deserted I thought myself free;
Informed on by my comrades a deserter to be,
I was soon followed after and brought back with speed,
I was handcuffed and shackled, heavy-ironed indeed.

A court-martial, court-martial, court-martial was then,
And the sentence they gave me was a hundred and ten;
From thence to the guard-house on a straw bed did lie,
From thence to the halberds the very next day.

Then in steps our general with his cane in his hand,
Saying, ‘Show me that young man that’s at my command;
You may loose him from the halberds, you may set him free,
For he’ll be a deserter till the day that he dies.’

The next time I deserted I thought myself free;
Informed on by my sweetheart a deserter to be,
I was soon followed after and brought back with speed,
I was hand-cuffed and shackled, heavy-ironed indeed.

A court-martial, court-martial, court-martial then sat,
And the sentence they gave me it was to be shot.
Up drives then our Duke of York in his coach and six,
Saying, ‘Show me that young man to the halberds is fixed.’

Put his hand in his pocket and pulled out ten pounds,
Saying, ‘Take this, my young man, and go your ways home’,
Saying, ‘Take this, my young man, goodbye unto thee,
No more the king’s duty lies heavy on thee.’

It’s alas! and alas! and what sad cruelty,
No more, the king’s duty lies heavy on me.

Traditional