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Text by Ebenezer Smith, 1871
Grief sits upon the widow's brow
Tears dim the orphan's eye
From many lowly dwellings now
Ascends the mourning cry
And echo answers while they ask -
"Oh God, why did she die?"
Old Age leans heavy on his staff
And Sorrow weeps alone
And little children hush the laugh
To speak of her that's gone
And woe and want look up to Heaven
Where she can hear their moan
The Doon chants sadly as it flows
Down to the mur'mring sea
Its songsters, perched on leafless boughs
Give forth no notes of glee
And round each naked branch the breeze
Makes mournful minstrelry
Its flowers lie withered 'neath the pall
Spread by the wintry blast
And she, the fairest flower of all,
Has fallen - the best - the last
Alas! no Spring or Summer call
Can raise her from the past
Such loveliness is known to bloom
But once beneath our skies
But Faith looks upwards from the tomb
And lo! the dead arise!
Beyond the cloud, and mist, and gloom
Where beauty never dies.
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2. |
Music for Jellyfish
03:36
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Guitar by Bell Lungs
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3. |
Motion Painting
10:30
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4. |
Find and Seek
02:13
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5. |
Petiole Fragment
02:00
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6. |
Composition in Blue
04:17
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7. |
Frost Pocket
05:16
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bell lungs Scotland, UK
A mesmeric voice pours into your ears, atop mellotron violin, fingerpicked guitar, omnichord drones, bowed chimes, field recordings & glitchy electronics. Drawing on psychedelic, free improvisation and folk influences, Bell Lungs creates transcendental atmospherically shifting soundscapes interspersed with snippets of songs, musing upon rural idylls, post-industrial heartlands and online dating. ... more
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