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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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- And 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 while the men stumble 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. And 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 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 the guns. He’s back in Flanders facing up to the Huns- And then it's dawning on him- it’s just them old drums 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. And here is Jack. Here is Jack. 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. And here is Jack. Here is Jack.

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