The Rafters

from by Chris Cleverley

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    All artwork by Laura Tinald.

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lyrics

I ring the bells up in the tower
A complex array of ropes and rungs
Designed to demarcate the passing hours.
I long for quaint provincial flowers
And savouring the cleaner air;
To stare upon the birds up in the bowers.

The old physician cried when I was born
“What devil’s curse bestows upon this fateful morn?
The Deacon must be warned!
And in what blackened furnace was this infant formed?”

For I’m doomed to walk along the lengths and depths
Of the ramparts and the parapets
‘til this curse is lifted and I am free to die.
I carve these wooden puppets for my pets.
Like the jester with his marionettes
I lead the lives that I have been denied.

So I am the Captain
Of this vessel on the South Seas
And all laden down with calicos and cardamom for sale.
Then on to the courts of Kings
The pleasures that the courtesans do bring
But always back here to my prison as I sing;

I’m doomed to walk along the lengths and depths
Of the ramparts and the parapets
‘til this curse is lifted and I am free to die.
I carve these wooden puppets for my pets.
Like the jester with his marionettes
I lead the lives that I have been denied.

credits

from Apparitions, released October 30, 2015

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about

Chris Cleverley Birmingham, UK

Whispers have been spreading far and wide around the British Folk Scene about Chris Cleverley and his haunting tales of ghost women, lonesome clock towers, lovelorn mariners and hospital beds. Chris’ trademark sound is at times likened to the magnitude of a full orchestra only to moments later pull audiences to the very edge of their seats to soak in the delicate spider-like touch of his playing. ... more

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