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The Wistman Tales

by Napier's Bones

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1.
AD 1069 : The Harrying of the North Treason spreads like a disease, letting blood the only cure Foolish bargains with the Danes? Such hopes will not endure Lessons must be learned, that the North will not forget. We have no time, for all that plot futile resistance No place, for natives in Duke William's Court No Mercy, fools are they who dare oppose us! No Doubt, We are the chosen ones ------------------------------------------------------ This land is ours now, the Church is ours, On bended knee the natives shall give praise. The Law is ours now, the language ours Punishments, that we alone dictate Erase the past, to build anew The future is ours to shape.... In our own Image....our own Image.... It's ours to shape in our own image....... In Clifton, Held by Escelf, De Lacy has it now....and it is waste In Hetone, Held by Refanskil, De lacy has it now..and it is waste In Wyke, Held by Scanulf, De Lacy has it now..and it is waste In Gomershale, Held by Dunstan, De Lacy has it now..and it is waste In Mirefelt, Held by Haldane, De Lacy has it now...and it is waste In Herteshue, Held by Gerneber, De Lacy has it now..and it is waste In Bradley, Held by Godwin, De Lacy has it now..and it is waste
2.
Work Will Set You Free When my story started, a very different man was I So much has changed for me in so little time Older now and sadly wise The years have worn me down I'll take this chance to tell my tale if you'll allow None could stop the factory rise, without a voice we were swept aside Men who swore to break the frames were crushed by Redcoats standing by Left with the clothes I stand in All I held dear is lost now Lend me your ears and heed my warning while you can Huddled at the workhouse gates, a family torn apart just waits Praying that the stories can't be true Through the workhouse gates, equality for all inmates Knowing now the stories are all true Behold the Master of this House, The Guardians' Rules are your world now All men that can work say your goodbyes, All women and children dry your eyes! Now sort out the lame and weak of mind, Life here is full and fair and kind No place for laments, no mercy pleas, Beginning today Work Will Set You Free.... Now you've heard my story, it happened long ago Different times and different laws, so far from all you know. How could this relate to you? Those days could not return! Consigned to dusty history books, What lessons can you learn? Don't disregard those history books, there are pages left to turn.....
3.
Lost & Found 06:40
Day after day, they tell me that I will soon be leaving People all around, yet I am so alone It's in their eyes, a kind of fear inside As if they know me Every night, whispered voices reassure me But in the early hours, all the doubts return I hear people screaming, they melt into troubled dreams I feel I know them I....I feel the conflict inside of me Inner voices rise and contradict myself It's him....and he's growing stronger now With each passing day, it's harder to resist And he knows it "I'm coming back! Back to power! All the things I'm gonna do I won't be stopped, not this time.. I'll destroy those in my way And you know it" I...I know my time is running out And I've only really lived for several days But he...he has a darker side And I fear for what he'll do when in control And he knows it. "I'm coming back! Back to power! All the things I'm gonna do I won't be stopped, not this time.. I'll destroy those in my way And you know it" "I'm coming back! Stronger than ever! No-one will dare stand in my way Tremble with fear, in my presence Once they see me rise again They'll know me... They'll know me"
4.
The Storyteller : A mile or more beyond the town where Roman beacons burned A long established hostelry, it stands all alone The track that marks the entrance, often missed from the road The turnpike has fallen quiet, none will call here tonight As the dizzy whirls of sleet announce the storm Bella the maid dims the lamps and bolts the door The landlord George smiles and counts his takings after Bowes Fair The roof creaks and groans as the wind bears down from Stainmore Alone, enclosed, they won't see another soul As they say their prayers to save them from the storm Waves of rain and snow spiral down Consumed by fear & darkness, heartbeats quicken now They're deafened by the howling screaming sound Then it's broken by a knocking at the door A feeble cry of "Help me" then no more The Occupants : Who stands outside? A wet bedraggled old woman bent double no less Come quickly inside! Dry clothes, warm milk, our Bella will help you undress The Traveller : "Nothing I can say can repay you for your kindness sir I lost the track as day turned into night A pauper's widow I, can no longer pay my way My daughter waits in Brough for me, I'll leave you at first light" The Occupants : Sit by the Fire! No payment required when we answer a traveller's distress Before we retire - we'll see that you're well, now take what you need and God bless The Traveller : "Let me say again, I don't want food or drink Despite my situation, I still retain some pride Now talking tires me so, I beg you let me rest Don't touch my cloak or clothing! Just take yourself to bed!" Let all who rest be drawn into the deepest sleep Let those who dare to stay awake, unerringly their vigils keep Hand of glory, keep their heavy eyelids closed Revealing hidden riches whilst your magic taper glows Stolen from a gibbet corpse, wrapped in a funeral shroud Dried out with saltpeter, I command thee now Hand of Glory, Shining Bright Guide Your rightful owner to their rightful spoils tonight The Storyteller: Though she feigned to sleep, Bella watched the stranger's movements Disturbed by their growling voice and the hood that hid their face Surprised to see new riding boots on a pauper's wife Then the trav'ler rose to six feet tall and slid the bolt from the door From the folds of a steaming cloak withdrew a dead man's wizened hand Lit the candle in its grip then the ritual began The Traveller: Hand of Glory where Roman signal beacons burned I call on age-old wisdom, let the dead man's fire return In the house where your light burns, in vain the sleepers turn The killer's hand holds them tight, alive will be as dead tonight From the gallow's pole to High Stainmore Hand of Glory, do all I desire tonight The Storyteller: Bella ran and cried for help - but no one came Sleepers trapped under the spell of that unholy flame She recalled Grandmother's tales, about the Hand of Cain Candles fashioned from a murderer, only witchcraft could sustain She grabbed the milk jug by the range, she doused the hand The eerie glow was gone, then with his shotgun George appeared! The Gang : Give up the Hand! We don't want to harm you! Give up the Hand, and we won't return We have you surrounded, powerful witchcraft Terrible vengeance, don't make us come in! Give up the hand, give up the hand! Give up the hand, give up the hand! Give up the hand - you force us to enter Give up the hand - no quarter applies The Landlord: I don't fear your witchcraft! There were others before you Who broadened my learning Here's my reply..... The Storyteller: Though many years have passed and the story has become folklore Many still believe the Hand of Glory is on Stainmore The Spital Inn the legend says, but no-one's really sure After all, it's only make believe.... But if you're travelling late at night in Winter weather foul and You lose the road then spy a coaching inn you never knew about and You see a warm and welcome glow, the sign says "Vacancies" Don't fall asleep in that hostelry tonight Shine on, shine on, shine on From the Gallow's Pole to High Stainmore Hand of Glory, sleep well tonight
5.
Room 237 02:18
6.
7.
Part I : The Return Two Bridges on my mind, Old and New at once, together side by side, Fond-remembered place of hazy carefree games Now I returned, Oh how I yearned for those days Perhaps to cross to find again the man I used to be? There before me, hallowed ancient Dartmoor Druid stones, velvet moss, just how it always was A thousand feet beyond the bustling, frantic valley The wizened oaks of Wistman's Wood, at Sunset I would go This magic place, last surviving trace of an older vanished time A time before the anxious life, a prisoner of the clock Taking photographs, the trees, the sky, the rocks To freeze the view and free the feelings I had lost As I stand amongst the twisted mossy oaks A sense that I belong here, swells to fill my heart In the flooding warmth of golden evening sunshine I rest awhile, these sentinels will keep me safe from harm I'm coming home I am home -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Part II : The Haunting It all feels different now, the Wood transformed as I slept Where once was beauty, Gnarled twisted trees, they snarl grotesque All in darkness, no welcome in this sun starved place A hissing whisper grows, from creviced rocks, from ancient graves! What is this place? Something's wrong here I don't belong here Golden sunlit welcome gone, Twilight, sterile, in its place In haste I came to Wistman's Wood, to regain all I lacked Choking on the air of sadness, contempt for those alive This stunted copse now mocks my weakness, its magic holds me fast! I must escape here I have no place here But how? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Part III : The Hunt Across the moonlit slopes of Crocken Tor, a figure moves I'm not alone, the fear dispelled, moving fast he'll reach me soon He's drawing closer now, he must have heard my cries His dogs run free, they've got my scent, they'll soon be at my side Frenzied barks and howls and clouds of breath Flashing yellow teeth and eyes of red This is the Wisht Hounds Hunt!! I've got to run for my life - I've got to try to get home Nooooooo! Help me! Leave me alone! You can't have me, you can't have my soul! Running for my life now, Terror on the open moor Relentlessly pursued by The Devil's Spectral Hounds! Almost at the track, a gate, a stile I recognise Another quarter mile beyond the Dewerstone ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Part IV : The Testament As I reflect upon my testament I try and fail at making sense of that night's events My broken bones have healed but mental scars Are with me still, in restless nights and feverish midnight hours All I saw, all I heard I give my word this story's true, this warning is for you Rocks inscribed with rites of druid sacrifice Spirits evil lay in wait to trap lost souls at night The past should stay the past, good and bad interred Decide the future here and now, please just heed my words! Will no one believe me? Condemned to live that night over again eternally....

about

Songs of Folklore
Songs of Memory
Songs of Magic
Songs of Self.

This collection takes the listener on an emotional journey, passing through dark and introspective landscapes en-route to deliverance.

"And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you"

Special 2015 Remastered Edition includes previously unreleased 14 minute bonus track "Hand of Glory"

credits

released September 11, 2015

Music, Lyrics & Production © Gordon Midgley 2014
Vocals : Nathan Jon Tillett

Artwork & Logo © Napier's Bones 2014

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Napier's Bones UK

Napier's Bones are a UK band steeped in classic prog and using it as a foundation for their own take on long-form progressive rock music.

The focus is firmly on dramatic storytelling with subjects capable of resonating with today's listeners. Music that references the past but is very much of the here and now.
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