The Ballad Of Thomas Lewis

One YouTube channel I find amusing and occasionally instructive is Zelph on the Shelf. I came across this video they recorded a little while ago that refers to the same sad story that prompted me to write “The Ballad of Thomas Lewis” some eleven years ago. They discuss these tragic events that occurred in Manti, Utah in 1857. I first encountered the story in Jim Whitefield’s “The Mormon Delusion Volume 1” (Lulu, 2009, p.170). It cropped up again in D. Michael Quinn’s 1997 book, “The Mormon Hierarchy: Extensions of Power” (Signature Books) and again when I read the near contemporaneous account by John D. Lee in his devastating confessional work, “Mormonism Unveiled” (Vanderwalker & Co. facsimile of 1891, originally published in 1877).

A few years ago I wrote a blog essay on this story that seemed to haunt me and described how I came to write “The Ballad of Thomas Lewis” where I also explain one or two liberties I had to take in order to tell the story coherently. I intend for the song to be included on the next album when I get round to recording it. I’ve included the full lyrics of the song below. A few years ago I was introduced by an MC who warned the audience that I write songs that make men cross their legs. I think he was referring to the ballad.

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This is a reprint of part of an essay I wrote six years ago and about a song I wrote eleven years ago. I'm bringing it to the top of a pile because yesterday I watched a video on YouTube that discussed the subject that seemed to have such an impact on me many years ago.

Many stories of the early days of Mormonism have been obscured, suppressed or altered.  I came across the story of a young man called Thomas Lewis in my researches a few years ago in John D Lee's 1877 book, "Mormonism Unveiled".  Although the version I read was not recorded until some twenty years after the events were alleged to have taken place in Manti, Utah in 1857, I found the story compelling and affecting and it wouldn't leave me alone until I had done something about it.  I wrote "The Ballad of Thomas Lewis" to give news of these events a little nudge.  Although I perform to very small audiences I hope that poor Thomas' fate does not disappear into obscurity.  We learn something fundamental about the Mormons in the actions of the polygamous Bishop Warren S. Snow and of the better known polygamist, the so-called prophet Brigham Young who, on hearing from one of his brothers, Joseph, about these events told him that he was "of a mind to sustain" the bishop.  He told Joseph to say no more about the matter and let it die away among the people.  That statement alone was my red flag.  I have taken some liberties in the ballad.  For example, I cannot find any reference to the name of the fiancée of Thomas Lewis, so to help tell the story I have called her, "Mary".  The harvest references are also my fancy.  I think that one day I should annotate the song, because it contains many references the specific meanings of which will only be fully appreciated by people very familiar with concepts and language used among Mormons.  Many present day Mormons will have no idea about some of these concepts and I suspect that most Mormons today will never have even heard the story.  A piece of social history I wanted to reference was the utter callousness shown within many polygamous relationships.  I had certainly never heard of the revered early missionary, Heber C. Kimball, (who was responsible for converting many British people and encouraging them to emigrate to Zion), referring to his wives as his "cattle" until I started to read more widely.  If any of this is true, it is certainly no longer useful.

The Ballad Of Thomas Lewis 

by Marshlander (2010)

1. Manti, in Utah, eighteen fifty-seven.

Frontier thinking tainted by the cult.

The one true faith where brethren hold the aces

Hope, toil and zeal etched in saintly faces.

Young Thomas courted Mary.  So in love

Was he, he swore there’d be no other.  She

To him returned the promise.  They’d be wed

When harvest’s safely home, they said.

2. Bishop Snow “lived his religion”.  Kimball’s

“Cows” – his own herd growing like them.  Humble

Never his demeanour.  Even crueller

His approach.  He was no godly fellow.

The Bishop sought an increase to his herd;

He, too, began to woo young Thomas’s love;

But faithful Mary turned the old man down

The chase became the gossip all round town.

3. Several wives were clearly not enough.  He, 

“Builder of the Kingdom”, here on earth.  While

Shoring up the promise for hereafter.

Only misery; no hint of laughter.

He pursued his prize with gifts and jewels

She was flattered but refused each one.

He told her she would be first resurrected

On the morning of the most elect.

4. Faithful to her sweetheart she refused

Once again his wheedling and his cant.

The old priest swore an oath in tones so chill

That she would be his bride.  It was God’s will.

And when this clumsy pressure failed to change

The young girl’s mind, the Bishop grew more mad.

He told her, if she obstinate remained, 

That God’s will would be done and she be blamed.

5. He told her that young Thomas could be sent 

To serve the Lord in missions far away.

He told her, never would she see him more

If she continued to refuse God’s law.

When she again demurred he took him then

Straightway to see young Thomas in his rage.

He threatened excommunication.  Still

The lad refused to bend before his will.

6. By now the Bishop, thunderous with lust,

Called faithful men to counsel late one night.

When Thomas entered in that meeting hall

He surely never saw what would befall.

When he came in the lamps went out and all

the heavy men piled in; then held him down.

The Bishop, with his knife and n’er a nay,

Fast severed off Tom’s manhood where he lay.

7. He snarled and spat, “I gave you every chance

To let me have young Mary for my own.

As punishment for thwarting of God’s plan

She won’t want you now you’re not a man!”

The butchers left the scene with Thomas still

Left lying on the table in his shame.

But Snow stopped in one final act of gall

To nail the severed trophy to the wall.

8. “Let all men learn obedience to God.

The Lord will not be mocked by any man.

Celestial marriage and eternal life,

My just reward, with Mary as my wife!”

Let the matter drop and say no more about it

He was called of God as a Judge In Israel

Let the matter drop and the people soon will doubt it

Ever came to pass, ever came to pass, ever came to pass ...

"The Ballad of Thomas Lewis" Copyright Marshlander.

As with many of my songs I set myself a musical challenge as well as a lyric-writing one. Some years ago I heard a discussion on the radio between two composers describing the difficulty of setting Shakespeare's words to music. It was mainly to do with the rhythm and meter. It was a fascinating discussion and I thought that one day I must have a try to see just how difficult it is to set text written in pentameters. By no means are my lyrics Shakespearian in quality, but they are certainly written in pentameters i.e. five feet in each line. I thought at first that I could get away with writing in 5/4 or 5/8, but I couldn't make that work. In the end I settled on squeezing the text into a waltz. When I sing the song I daresay it sounds to some as though it tumbles out as a stream of consciousness. That's how it often feels to me. As if that weren't enough I decided to risk minimal use of chords and see if I could still hold the listener's attention. I think the accompaniment on the repeating D major and C major chords encourages a meditative dorian feel. It appears the listener is either absorbed into the story or simply falls asleep ...

Of Safe Vigils and Seeing Off Incinerators

Yesterday morning seemed almost normal. I had to get up in time to be in town for 08.45 - I was going to take part in a demo. It has been a long time since I have been able to express my feelings in person about some injustice or other, but this was a real demo, albeit a rolling demo with bubbles and "social" distances and face masks. Yesterday was the first morning. There'll be another demo with six people tomorrow, three more next week. On some days there will be two or more groups around the town. Of course the masks made it seem like a very serious demo. I've been on some demonstrations where masks have been considered anti-social. It's funny how times change and that I find myself attending a demonstration/vigil where the wearing of masks is now seen as more responsible than criminal.

Of course, as with any demo, one wishes one wasn't forced to do it. Sometimes though, there just doesn't seem to be any choice. If I don't get involved why should I expect anyone else to?

I've been here before. Cory Wheelabrator, an American company wanted to build a mass-burn incinerator in King's Lynn some ten years ago. They managed to get Norfolk County Council to agree to guarantee £20 million in compensation if the plans fell through. That was £20,000,000 of the taxpayer's money extracted from the public for the provision of public services. The council vastly underestimated the strength of local opposition. To cut a long story short a concerted campaign lasting some years, multiple vigils and rallies and a public enquiry eventually saw Cory Wheelabrator leave without building their precious.   

Yesterday we were alerting people to MVV, a company from Germany this time, that wants to build a waste incinerator in Wisbech. Not just any waste incinerator, but a massive construction with a chimney that would tower some ninety-five metres above the capital of the Fens. This is a much larger proposal than the one for King's Lynn. To put this in perspective, if the chimney stood next to Ely Cathedral the cathedral would be dwarfed. For all sorts of reasons this is not an appropriate development for Wisbech. The toxic output would poison the town and surrounding countryside, much of which supplies fresh fruit and vegetables for the nation's larder from the most fertile soil in the country. The Wash, with what's left of a fishing industry, would also be in the path of prevailing winds and no longer be capable of supplying shellfish and delicious samphyr. The proposed incinerator site is close to a high school and primary school and there is not sufficient road infrastructure to cope. Summer already sees the busy A47 jammed into or out of Norfolk with holiday traffic and the mega-incinerator would see an additional 750 lorry movements every twenty-four hour day bringing in toxic waste to burn from all over East Anglia and the East Midlands. Were such a beast to be built it would demand to be fed 24/7.

Marshlander with banner, mask and new hat at the aptly named, Freedom Bridge.

What a socially distanced demo looks like

Further details can be found on the WisWIn (Wisbech Without Incineration) website

Yesterday's demo took place in freezing fog and it was COLD! There is clearly a lot of support in the town already for this campaign judging by the number of drivers who tooted their horns and waved as they were driving by. Of course there are still many people who don't know what the campaign is about, some who've never heard of it and some who don't understand why we should oppose the project. MVV have been clever. More recent government rules mean that projects above a certain size cannot be accepted or rejected by local councils or planning procedures. This proposal is on such a vast scale that it has to be decided on at central government level despite the fact that every local and county council and our MPs are in opposition to the plans. 

Of course one cannot be complacent. So many things have happened in recent years that many failed to foresee. As part of the King's Lynn campaign a decade ago, several musician and poet friends got together to contribute to a CD of songs which was sold to raise money towards the legal costs of the campaign. We raised a modest amount and even sold out the stock of CDs. I nearly missed the deadline for adding a contribution, but after a lot of thought I decided to use the form of a traditional song, "Who's The Fool Now?" I changed the content and lyrics as well as the melody. Under normal circumstances such changes would be sufficient to disguise any song completely and create something original. However the origin of my song, "Who's The Fool?" is very easily recognised by both the form of the song and the archaic language of the refrain. I looked for alternatives to the old words, but sometimes tried and tested is still best; besides Fie! is exactly the right comeback. The song takes the shape of an argument between two people. One, falling progressively deeper into his cups makes wilder and wilder boasts while the other responds with sarcasm refuting the veracity of every barmy claim.

In those days I had only attempted to record one other song. I hadn't yet established how or even whether I was going to be able to perform my songs. I knew I wanted to be a d-i-y operation and used my home recording studio to make music I could not possibly recreate live on my own. The monoband idea gradually developed over the next few years. We did go out into the street and serenade the public with our work. I sang "Who's The Fool?" a cappella. It was generally met with a mixture of indifference and irritation by Saturday shoppers in King's Lynn. I, on the other hand, was smugly content with the way the song turned out.

🎵 Listen to Who's The Fool? by Marshlander (2010) from the "Smoke On The Wash" CD 🎵

Cory said to his man, “Fie, man, fie!”

Cory said to his man, “Who’s the fool now?”

Cory said to his man, “Top up your pension while you can!

Twenty million in my hand!  Who’s the fool now?

Who’s the fool?  Who’s the fool now?”

I heard his man tell the truth.

Fie, man, fie!

I heard his man tell the truth.

Who’s the fool now?

I heard his man tell the truth and I grew a sparrow’s tooth!

You’ve drunk a skinful, man!  Who’s the fool now?

Who’s the fool?  Who’s the fool now?

West Norfolk folk believe the lies.  Fie …

And a baby never cries. You’ve drunk a skinful, man …

Sixty-five per-cent agree …

Sixty-five per-cent agree ComRes, so trustworthy …

I saw the mouse lead the pack …

I saw the mouse lead the pack squeaking orders from the back …

I breathed the air so sweet and clear …

I breathed the air so sweet and clear and saw a squirrel brewing beer …

Emissions too small to count …

Emissions too small to count do no harm in such amounts …

I saw the town all employed …

I saw the town all employed and asthmatics overjoyed …

I saw his man win the day …

I saw his man win the day and a tiger feast on hay …

Cory said to his man, “Fie, man, fie!”

Cory said to his man, “Who’s the fool now?”

Cory said to his man, “Top up your pension while you can!

Twenty million in my hand!  Who’s the fool now?

Who’s the fool?  Who’s the fool now?”

Music and lyrics by Marshlander

copyright dP2010 

There is one more song from "Smoke On The Wash" that I have found in the public domain. The John Preston Tribute Band (or rather half of them) recorded "No Incinerator" one evening in Filth And Fury recording studio. It's a jolly little number that allowed the inclusion of the whole street crew in the outdoor performances. I really like the opening line, how typically John Preston ... "I don't want to be a dioxymoron ..."

🎵 Listen to "No Incinerator" by The John Preston Tribute Band (2010) from the "Smoke On The Wash" CD 🎵

Of course, whatever happens next there is another conversation that needs to be had. We have some consensus on what we don't want. We don't want a mega incinerator polluting the area. At some point we are going to have to come to terms with deciding what we do want. We cannot continue to consume at the present rate and expect the inevitable problems to go away. We need a considered lead by us, the people, by elected members and by officers employed to devise and enact truly democratic and sustainable solutions. We need to be responsible for reducing the waste that is suffocating and poisoning the planet.

Of Video Feary And Terpsichorean Arthropoda

Most of my friends have made far better use of lockdown time than I have. Pretty much all my musician friends have got into video, some in rather a spectacular way. Every time I have attempted to do anything with video it has not turned out well. 

I have been trying to get to grips with some very basic functions in Final Cut Pro X, which I bought years ago with high hopes. I have kept it up to date and have even attempted to follow instructional videos on YouTube. Apart from the sheer complexity of all the stuff I could do with FCPX and not really having a clue where to start, a recurring problem has been that captions and titles have not actually been rendered with the rest of any finished product. I haven't a clue why. After watching yet another "how to ..." video I had another go at putting together a little film today. Whatever I did this time, the titles appeared at the end  as I intended. Again don't ask me why.

Recording it on the boat was a bit of a challenge. I don't have a camera, so I used the PhotoBooth selfie application on my laptop computer. I didn't want the sound to be the normal computer microphone sound so I plugged in my RME Babyface audio interface along with what I consider to be my best studio microphone, an SE-X1T. I bought the mic in a sale and have rarely used it, but it does look the business. It even has a special box that needs plugging into the mains to power it, so it must be good ...

Clearly there is a mismatch with the gear I'm using. What I noticed first, even while recording, was that there was an appreciable lag between video and audio. I'd noticed this on some other people's videos as well and assumed it was a problem at the editing stage. Well, no, it is a function of recording to computer. The audio defies all the laws of known physics and and travels faster than the speed of light to get there first.

The next thing I noticed while recording was that I could not get through the whole song in one take. There was always something. Usually it was a stumble over the words, sometimes my brain took me back to an earlier version of the lyrics I no longer sing. I had the lyrics in front of me on my tablet, but I had to do it again if I spent too much time looking at them or something would catch my eye and I would be seen glancing sideways. It was too distracting for the viewer. Then there were the flies ...

This year I have left the spiders in the boat pretty much to their own devices. This is because, for a few months, I have a lot of house flies. I thought hungry spiders would help. They don't. These huge spiders are okay abseiling from the ceiling in the evening when I'm trying to read, practise, write, chat or watch something on my tablet, but they show no interest in house flies. Consequently while recording the spoken song the flies showed their appreciation of the spoken word by buzzing around my face or crawling over my head. When I viewed the video it proved so distracting I had to do another take. After about a dozen failed takes to record the piece in one I resorted to the recording studio trick of one verse at a time. Of course, I was never sitting in exactly the same position when it came to recording the next verse. It also looked bad seeing me reach for the space bar to stop the recording at the end of each verse so I had to do it again and wait before I stopped the recording. This meant that the pauses needed to to closed up in the editing. I could do that, but unlike when I'm using an audio editor when I would search for a "zero crossing" when changing the length of sections for inserting crossfades, I haven't worked out where best to make the edit. That meant an audible click between the verses too. I discovered that a transition fade would mask the unwanted noise. I think I counted six flies. I finally managed to get one of each of the verses of "In Your Place" without arthropodal formation dancing on my head, but I do perform imaginative, interpretative, but completely inappropriate, ghostly movements between verses.

I thought I would put it up on YouTube. Then I could l could put links here and on my Facebook page. I was just too excited to have got this far and have some titles to show as well and ended up posting directly to Facebook without remembering to render the video in a smaller format. The file is huge. Facebook took it and presumably has algorithms for dealing with the stupidity of people like me. 

I plan to do more of these spoken-word versions of the songs on the album and hope to do better next time. None of us should even think about holding our breaths. It is unlikely to happen very soon.

11. Say I'm Sexy - Track eleven from "Head Above Water" by Marshlander

Say I'm Sexy

How can you say I’m sexy when I’m sixty-three years old?

At our age most prefer to think that passion long ago grew cold,

But you throw petrol on my fire and, if the truth be told,

We’re burning bright, let’s burn all night!

Even though we’re old 

We’re burning bright, let’s burn all night!

Even though we’re older

My sight is too far gone to see that you’re no longer young.

Liver spots and wrinkles never seem to stop us having fun.

The meals we make taste just as good and when the eating’s done

We’ll sit at the table laugh and talk.

Who needs to be young 

We’ll sit at the table laugh and talk.

Who needs to be younger

Deep within your gaze, I see that glint that’s just for me.

Each gentle touch excites me more than anyone has a right to be!

All these years I’ve loved you and your love has made me free.

Let’s stay together ever more; you, my love, and me!

Let’s stay together ever more; you, my love, and me!

Sex is wasted on the young.  They think they know the score.

Your kisses and caresses make me want to love you more and more

And more and more and more and more and more and more and more and more.

But it matters not (well, not a lot) when sex becomes a chore.

It matters not (no, not a lot) when sex becomes a chortle! 

(Music and lyrics by Marshlander - all rights reserved)

He says it and he means it. I love him. "Say I'm Sexy" celebrates the good fortune of finding love in later life.  I was fifty-five when I wrote it and I change the age every birthday. The song is out of date again.

10. In Your Place - Track ten from "Head Above Water" by Marshlander

In Your Place

There are no ghosts, but as I sit here

Memories are shimmering on the edge of recall.

The shadow of a thought of a recollection.

Nothing more will focus but I feel I want to scribble

Half a word, half a sketch while I’m sitting in this unaccustomed quiet

In your place.

Silence gives way, splintered by memory

The howl of your laughter uncoils in an echo of a thought.

I thought you were brave.

Or was it just persistence?

You must have been strong so I feel I want to share half a smile and a tear

While I’m sitting in this unaccustomed quiet

In your place.

We never quite said what was important.

Instead we sent e-mails and kept each other amused.

You tried to recruit another campaigner,

But I turned you down so I feel I want to share half a word, half a line

While I’m sitting in this unaccustomed quiet

In your place.

Those things never shared 

You knew that I meant them.

You should have rejected me, but you took me in as one of your own.

You thanked me many times for making him happy.

I think we should have hugged.

You should have had a new hat.

In your place of private grief and hilarious meals I shed a tear, 

In your place.

It’s strange how in death I sing out to reach you.

We put you in the ground and that’s where you’ll always be.

Sometimes you feel near; those memories shimmer.

We could not have been more different, but I feel I want to sing half a line, half a song while I’m sitting in this unaccustomed quiet

In your place.

(Music and lyrics by Marshlander - all rights reserved)

Another death in the family. I'm at that age where the frequency of deaths around me is accelerating. These thoughts are about sitting in the house of a loved one who has recently died and trying to pull together some coherent memories.

9. Damn You, Enchiladas - Track nine from "Head Above Water" by Marshlander

Damn You, Enchiladas

Many songs are sung of life and loves both won and lost

Celebration of the living seems to come at such a cost.

But when Mama told your story it was hard to stem the tears

At the bravery and the wisdom of a man so few in years.

Damn you! Damn you, enchiladas!

You may have won this time, but I shall beat you next time round.

Chemotherapy has made a shadow out of me,

But I shall beat you.

Damn you, enchiladas!

Where do ideas come from when we haven’t read great minds

Sharing words of comfort when it wasn’t yet your time.

You shared the love of ancestors who reached you through thin air.

The wonder of their being was that only you saw them there.

Damn you! Damn you, enchiladas!

You may have won this time, but I shall beat you next time round.

Chemotherapy has made a shadow out of me,

But I shall beat you.

Damn you, enchiladas!

Sickness stole your childhood and the treatment stole your youth.

But George took on the dragon after digging up some truth

And planted in that hole some seeds of hope that grew so tall.

Against the odds the oil of life was burning after all.

Damn you! Damn you, enchiladas!

You may have won this time, but I shall beat you next time round.

Chemotherapy has made a shadow out of me,

But I shall beat you.

Damn you, enchiladas!

Papa saw you smiling and your foot began to tap

At the songs of this cock crowing with his sounds that overlap.

This was something massive when such sounds could leave you cold.

From three days left to audience was something to behold!

Damn you! Damn you, enchiladas!

You may have won this time, but I shall beat you next time round.

Chemotherapy has made a shadow out of me,

But I shall beat you.

Damn you, enchiladas!

(Music and lyrics by Marshlander - all rights reserved)

I met the father of the family in this story one night at a gig and, following his recommendation, read the intensely moving book, “The Boy In Seven Billion”, by Callie Blackwell and Karen Hockney. This is my version of the story of a boy who, while getting to grips with a world experienced through an autistic filter, developed leukaemia and later a second cancer. He was not expected to reach his eleventh birthday, let alone his fourteenth when he ran from the hospice four weeks after being given three days to live. I sang this song in public for the first time with the whole family unexpectedly present on his eighteenth birthday. Being able to be together may have been a most amazing gift for the family, but trying out the song was an unexpected gift for me, specially since I hadn't planned to sing the song that night. The greatest compliment was paid by Callie who observed that I really had read the book very closely. It was one of those I simply could not put down.

The reference to the enchiladas comes into the story when Deryn is released from hospital to celebrate his eleventh birthday with his family at a favourite Mexican restaurant where he was determined to finish the whole meal. 

"Damn you, enchiladas," Deryn muttered as he glared at the few leftovers on his plate. "I'll get you next time." (from "The Boy In Seven Billion" by Callie Blackwell and Karen Hockney)

Given a lead-in like that, the song demanded to be written. Naturally there had to be a Latin feel to the music.

8. Lean On The Tiller - Track eight from "Head Above Water" by Marshlander

Lean On The Tiller

Kingfisher sitting on the prow of the boat

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

Kingfisher sitting on the prow of the boat

He’ll keep a-fishing, I’ll keep afloat.

Lean, lean, lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

Ten fine swans with plumage fine

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

Ten fine swans with plumage fine

Swim on the river in a dead straight line.

Lean, lean, lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

I’ll lean on the tiller like you lean on a gate

From the crack of dawn till the evening late

Watch my wash as I wend my way

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day

Fish close in for scraps from my platter

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

Fish close in for scraps from my platter

Here comes Mr Pike watch them scatter.

Lean, lean, lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

Cormorants sitting on a telephone line

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

Cormorants sitting on a telephone line

Eyeing those fish all looking so fine

Lean, lean, lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

I’ll lean on the tiller like you lean on a gate

From the crack of dawn till the evening late

Watch my wash as I wend my way

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day

The sadness in this cabaret

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day

The sadness in this cabaret

See the mink that swims this way.

Lean, lean, lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

I’ll lean on the tiller like you lean on a gate

From the crack of dawn till the evening late

Watch my wash as I wend my way

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day

There’s more to tell about life on the river

Lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

There’s more to tell about life on the river

But if I told you all you’d shiver and quiver.

Lean, lean, lean on the tiller all the livelong day.

(Music and lyrics by Marshlander - all rights reserved)

Like most of the songs in this collection this is mostly from first-hand observation. Some people think this song is just about the natural world. It is partly that, but I also wanted to work through some thoughts on being in the right or wrong place and time. I am often in the wrong country at any given time, but thankfully I do have some choice in that. Seeing families being rounded up by the authorities after being forced out of the back of a lorry at Toddington Services on the M.1. was a less happy experience. I have written about that already in this blog. This is one of several watery songs on the album.

The musical challenge for "Lean On The Tiller" was to come up with a song where the lyrics told a story, conformed to a shape and the music had the feel of an American folk song - don't ask me why, because I don't really know why, except I have had a lot of pleasure over the years singing traditional songs from many times and places including a lot from American tradition. Could it have been a response to meeting Peggy Seeger, who greeted me by describing me as a "colourful pirate"?!

"Cormorants sitting on a telephone line ...?" Definitely cormorants, but they may be sitting on a power line!

7. Be Home Soon - Track seven from "Head Above Water" by Marshlander

Be Home Soon

Fifty feet of steel,   Travel where you will

Plough a furrow through the Fen, 

Go wherever you feel

That's home.  No place like home.

Sleep in your own bed.  Don't leave your room.

Every night a new place.

Be home soon.

Feel that engine roar.  Watch the river part.

Glide your way to somewhere new, hope in your heart.

That's home.  No place like home.

Stoke the fire.  Cosy nest.

Don't leave your room.

Every night a new place.

Be home soon.

New pace of life - four miles an hour 

The weather shows no mercy save for wind and sun and shower

That's home.  No place like home.

Closer than you've ever been

Don't leave your room.

Every night a new place.

Be home soon.

Perch and roach and bream, your aquarium

The raw and arching sky, your solarium.

That's home.  No place like home.

Hang the rest, do your thing

Don't leave your room.

Every night a new place.

Be home soon.

(Music and lyrics by Marshlander - all rights reserved)

At an open mic evening some years ago I heard four or five young performers each singing one of the four songs they had knocked up that afternoon. I felt completely de-skilled. It takes me months and sometimes years to shape a song to the point where it becomes something I am willing to sing. Some years ago I set myself a task that, on my next clear day, I would start and complete a song in a day. I sat at the table with no idea about what I was going to write, so I wrote about what I could see around me. I can't say the song has remained untouched since then, but with the deletion or addition of a word or two and the addition of the simple harp part this is essentially what I came up with on that day. I like to think that  the sound of the song conveys the momentum and engine sound of cruising on the inland waterways at three or four miles an hour. I have often felt that living on a boat is like all the best bits of camping, only even better, because I can spend every night in a different place while I can still be in my home surroundings.