Our most commercially successful CD to date, "Bending Tradition" has shipped well over 5,000 copies - a solid track record for an indie release! This was our second CD, and the first we consider a "real" CD (our debut CD "Emerald Rose" was a limited pressing, and essentially demo quality). We spent many studio hours at Railroad Earth in Atlanta getting the master the way we wanted, and we're proud of the result.

The songs showcase a variety of styles, from Pagan-theme rockers like "Pagan Girl" and the oracular chant/song "Freya, Shakti" to more Celtic traditional fare such as "Come By The Hills" and "Johnnie Cope".


We also have this CD for sale on Amazon.com and many other online merchants, including The Blessed Bee, Azure Green, and Southern Fried Filk! We'll also be selling them at our gigs, of course, and we're happy to discuss wholesale orders with any qualified retailers.


TRACK LIST:
1. Penny In The Well - original, pop with Celtic undertones
2. Fire In The Head - fast-paced "mouth music" piece with Celtic shamanism theme
3. Lucky Man - the old Emerson, Lake, and Palmer number, as it should have been
4. Green Hills of Garland/Gallagher Lass/Ferret's Nose - original jigs from Larry
5. Red Haired Mary - a trad ballad transformed to modern pop
6. Pagan Girl - pure pagan pop!
7. Come By The Hills - a beautiful traditional Irish ballad
8. Johnny Cope - a rousing Scottish fightin' song
9. Merry Mayfolk - an upbeat May song with a universal message
10. Castle of Arianrhod - mysterious delving into Welsh myth and legend
11. Freya, Shakti - praise for the Goddess in her many forms
12. Unfinished Business - jazz jam with bozouki and whistle
13. Hills of America - an anthem of the Celtic diaspora

 

http://www.emeraldrose.com/secondcd.htm

 

Penny In The Well

An Emerald Rose original, and the opening song to our second CD "Bending Tradition". This song speaks of a personal journey to one's own center -- to the rediscovery of ancestral roots, and of hope renewed for the future.

I drive my car between the white and yellow lines
(I know this path)
I know this path, and I follow all the signs
(but then I hear)
The blackbird's call from a distant rowan tree
(and I must leave)
Leave this road, I must journey to the sea
(and so I'll go...)

chorus
Down to the shore where the warm wind fills the sheets
(and I will find)
Find the crew that will help me feel complete
(and then I'll sail)
Off to the land where my ancestors dwell
(and then I'll...)
Throw my penny in the well
Throw my penny in the well

I loved a lady once who danced into my life
(and then she came)
Came to bed, and then she came to be my wife
(but in my heart)
There was a hole that all our laughter could not fill
(a cold wind blew)
A cold wind blew us from our home upon the hill
(so let me go...)

chorus

The loving heart it is the bird that sings the song
(she sings the song)
And even hatred cannot cage her spirit long
(although we see)
The nations fight, still as people we are joined
(we all are joined)
Our love for life shall be our planet's common coin...
(so let us go)

Down to the shore where the warm wind fills the sheets
(and then we'll join)
Join the crew, so that we may be complete
(and then we'll sail)
Off to the land where our ancestors dwell
(and then we'll..)
Throw our penny in the well - oh yes we'll
Throw our penny in the well - come let us
Throw our penny in the well

Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--vocals, percussion
Clyde Gilbert--vocals, bass

 

Fire In The Head
Chorus:
Fire in the head...I'm a flame in motion
Fire in the head...I'm a sword that's sharp
Fire in the head...I'm a drop in the ocean
A shield in battle and a string in a harp.
Fire in the head...I'm an eagle soaring
Fire in the head...I'm a spoken word
Fire in the head...I'm a torrent pouring
A grain of wheat and a cauldron stirred.
Fire in the head!

Wee Jack's rhymes are sly and hinting
Wrapped in bull skin banging a drum
Wee Jack's looking, one-eyed squinting
Hoppin' on one leg, sucking his thumb
The black sow's chasin' me round the oak tree
Humming a tune that I must learn
The black sow's call to feast awoke me
But oh her cauldron spits and burns

(chorus)

Mad May shakes her bells to ringing
Rides through the door and disappears
Mad May's laughing, asking, singing
Does anyone have ears that hear?
The raven sat in a creek and pondered
Why the alder tree is strong
The raven's head flew off wnd wandered
Singing stories and telling songs

(chorus)

Arthur Hinds--vocals, bodhran
Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--pennywhistle, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--bass

 

The Green Hills of Garland/The Gallagher Lass/The Ferret's Nose
*original jigs in the Irish tradition, music and lyrics hereby released to the public domain.

Oh, you never should marry the Gallagher lass
She’ll spend all her time in the dressing room glass
A-combing her hair and a-primping her looks
Go find you a lass who will know how to cook
You never should fight with the Gallagher lad
You cut off his head and it just makes him mad
He’ll punch you so hard it’ll knock off your knees
Go fight with the boys in the bar if you please
The Gallaghers they’re a cantankerous lot
And nobody knows how much money they’ve got
Unless you are just suicidal or mad
You never should fight with the Gallagher lad
The Gallagher lass is a beautiful sort
And though you may wish for a wee bit o’ sport
I fear you will come to a terrible pass
You never should marry the Gallagher lass

Larry Morris--pennywhistle, vocals
Arthur Hinds--bodhran
Brian Sullivan--guitar

 

Red Haired Mary
This is an old Irish ballad about the trials of love in a strange town. We interpret this in a rather upbeat, pop style...after all, it's a pretty active day for our hero.

As I was going to the fair in Dingle
One fine morning last July,
On the road I saw before me
A red-haired maiden passing by.
"Come ride with me, my red-haired maiden.
My donkey can carry two."
She looked at me, her eyes a-twinkling
And her cheeks a rosy hue.
Chorus:
Keep your hands off red-haired Mary
Her and I will soon be wed
We'll see the priest this very morning
Tonight we'll lie in a marriage bed.

When we reached the town of Dingle
I took her hand to say good-bye
A tinker, he walked up beside me
And punched me hard in my left eye.
I was feeling kind of peevish
And my left eye was sad and sore
I tapped him gently with my hobnail,
And he flew back to Murphy's door

(chorus)

He ran off to find his brothers
Larger men I ne'er did see
They rapped me gently with their knuckles
And I was minus two front teeth
And then a peeler* came round the corner
He said, "Son you done broke the law."
When my donkey kicked him in the kneecaps
He fell down and broke his jaw.

(chorus)

The red-haired maiden just stood there smiling
"I'll come with you, young man," she said.
"We'll skip the priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in Murphy's shed!"

(chorus)

* "Peeler", a term for British "town militia" stationed
in Ireland in the early 1900's.

Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--congas, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--vocals, bass

 

Pagan Girl
Well the world is full of women
Every color, shape, and kind
And with this female cornucopia
It might be hard to make up your mind
I've had my share of failures
But I've learned a thing or two
I've laid down some hard-earned guidelines
Listen well and I'll sing them for you

Chorus:
I'm gonna find myself a pagan girl
Who understands the Goddess and rocks my world
Chant in the circle as the Sun and the Moon
Then dance round the fire to a Goddess tune
Rock all night 'till the morning unfurls
I'm gonna find myself a pagan girl

Back in college, Mary was an A D Pi
And as fine as any you have seen
But she blackballed the God and the Goddess
If they didn't wear pink and green
And Belinda, she was a wild girl
She could dance, she could ride, and she could scream
But the only Gods she adored and served
Were Mary Jane and old Jim Beam

(chorus)

Now Sherry was a fine, sweet girl
My happiness was her goal
But she had one very big problem with me
I would not let her save my soul
And Annie was a New Age mystic
Dolphins, angels, crystals, trees
But her idea of wild good time
Was channeling from the Pleiades

(chorus)

I didn't think that I would ever find her
Thought it might be a greater mystery
Then I saw her standing in the circle
An earthly Goddess weaiting just for me...

Oh, I found myself a pagan girl
Who understands the Goddess and rocks my world
We stand in the circle as the Sun and the Moon
Then dance round the fire to a Goddess tune
Rock all night till the morning unfurls
I found myself a pagan girl
P-A-G-A-N, P-A-G-A-N,
I found myself a pagan girl -- pagan girl!

Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--congas, percussion, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--vocals, bass

 

Come By The Hills
A popular traditional tune with words by Gordon Smith.

Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free
Stand where the peaks meet the sky and the rocks reach the sea,
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken lies gold in the sun
And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where life is a song
And sing while the birds fill the air with their joy all day long,
Where the trees sway in time and even the wind sings in tune,
And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where legend remains
Where stories of old stir the heart and my yet come again,
Where the past has been lost and the future is still to be won,
And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--vocals, pennywhistle
Clyde Gilbert--vocals

 

Merry May Folk
An original by Arthur Hinds, concerning a group of local Nature-lovers that decide to wake up the local congregation a bit.

On a fresh May morning, I took my love to church
To see if Parson Pruneface was properly a-perched
The sermon scarcely started, someone began to snore
When like a sunlit sea wave
A green and crimson wave
A band of merry May folk came a-whooping through the door
singing:
Come up, come in with streamers
Come in with boughs of May
Come green and white and trip the lawn
Till night becomes the day
Jump up and dance the Tom-fool
Jump up and duck and leap
Jump up and wake the people that
The parson puts to sleep

They brandished nut-brown tabors, their garlands fell in showers
Came lads and lasses after them with feet like dancing flowers
Their queen had torn her green gown and bared a shoulder white
White as the May that crowned her
And all the minstrels round her
Tilted back their crimson hats and sang for sheer delight,

Come up, come in with streamers
Come in with boughs of May
Come green and white and trip the lawn
Till night becomes the day
The Earth is dressed in flowers
Bedecked as if to wed
Go on and kiss the lady-o
Before the moment's fled

The dusky velvet hassocks were cloaked in fragrant dew
The font grew white with hawthorn, it frothed in every pew
The parson's beard was frosted from the queen's hawthorny kiss
When like a Morris saber
Tom Fool raised his tabor
Bounded to the pulpit and commenced to preaching this:

Come up, come in with streamers
Come in with boughs of May
Come green and white and trip the lawn
Till night becomes the day
We sing of life arisen
From the Lord who shed and died
Your God's alive in greenwood
With the Lady by his side

At Easter dawned our Morris, ere Pentecost our May
The words we sing are different, but the tune's not far away
So stand with us, join hand to hand
And raise a sacred call
We sing of life arisen
We sing of glory risen
We sing that love is risen again
And love is lord of all!

Come up, come in with streamers
come in with boughs of May
Come green and white and trip the lawn
Till night becomes the day
So dance with joy remembered
And sing of love's reward
Raise up a cup of May wine
To the Lady and the Lord

Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar, bodhran
Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--pennywhistle, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--vocals, tambourine

 

Johnnie Cope

*A Scottish traditional tune about a Jacobite battle the Scots actually won! Not the most stout-hearted of generals, the venerable Mr. Cope reputedly fled at the terrifying sound of bagpipes. [Fiddle players occasionally comment that Cope was neither the first nor the last to flee at the sound...]

Cope sent a challenge from Dunbar
"Charlie, meet me an ye dare,
And I'll teach you the art of war
If you meet me in the morning."
Whe Charlie looked this letter upon
He drew his sword his scabbard from,
Said, "Follow me, my merry men,
We'll meet Johnnie Cope in the morning!"

Chorus:
Hey, Johnnie Cope, are you waking yet,
Are your drums a-beating yet?
If you were waking, I would wait
To gang to the coals in the morning.

Now Johnnie, be as good as your word
Come try your faith with fire and sword
And don't flee away like a frightened bird
That's chased from its nest in the morning
When Johnnie Cope he heard of this
He thought it would not be amiss
To have a horse in readiness
To flee away in the morning

(chorus)

Oh Johnnie, now get scamperin'
The Highland bagpipes make a din
It's best to sleep in your whole skin
It'll be a bloody morning.
When Johnnie Cope to Berwick came
The asked of him, "Where are your men?"
"The divil confound me gin I ken,
For I left them all in the morning."

(chorus)

Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Arthur Hinds--vocals, bodhran
Larry Morris--pennywhistle, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--vocals, bass

 

Castle of Arianrhod
An Arthurian tale of Welsh mythology, written by our friend Jerome Geisinger.

I've been the highest and I've been the lowest
There is nothing that I cannot know
I am all I am nothing, but I'll tell you something
I defend my chair as a throne
And I know the reason that way out of season
Lleu slew the wren with a stone
I tell you these things, but how can I know?
I'm three times in the castle of Arianrhod

We set forth like Arthur to reclaim our daughter
And the cauldron we'd lost in the trade
Atonement for insult resulted in tulmult
The highest of prices we paid
We set for the Ireland - we crossed to the otherland
Our king was a bridge between worlds
I tell you these things, but how can I know?
I'm three times in the castle of Arianrhod

Gwern in the fire exploded their ire
Bran poisoned - a spear through the thigh
The cauldron was shattered, but nothing else mattered
We claimed it, and fled with our lives
Seven hundred set sail, only seven returned
With the cauldron and the head of our king
I tell you these things, but how can I know?
I'm three times in the castle of Arianrhod

Three horns were hailing where Arthur lay waiting
To rise up hearty and hale
When the lance is forsaken, the sleeper awakens
To take a sip from the grail
Seven hundred set sail, but we seven returned
With the cauldron and the words of our king
I tell you these things, but how can I know?
I'm three times in the castle of Arianrhod

I've been the highest and I've been the lowest
There is nothing that I cannot know
I am all I am nothing, but I'll tell you something
I defend my chair as a throne
And I know the reason that way out of season
Lleu slew the wren with a stone
I tell you these things, but how can I know?
I'm three times in the castle of Arianrhod

Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--pennywhistle
Clyde Gilbert--bass

 

Freya, Shakti
An invocation to the Goddess in her many forms and faces throughout the world.

Freya, Shakti, Hathor, Rhiannon,
Rhea, Maat, the Morrigan
Freya, Shakti, Hathor, Rhiannon,
Rhea, Maat, the Morrigan

Chorus:
High, raising up the Goddess
Oh, fill my soul
High, raising up the spirit
Oh, make me whole

She is a woman crowned with a crescent
She is the mother of all that lives
She is the Earth that is spinning in starlight
She is the Goddess of all that is
(chorus)

I know a woman stirring a cauldron
She is the source of the heart's deep core
I love a maiden dancing in moonlight
She is the key to the ancient lore
(chorus)

Freya, Shakti, Hathor, Rhiannon...

Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--congas, percussion, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--bass, percussion, vocals
Special guest Glen Weinstein--didgeridu

 

Hills of America
Our first "total collaboration" effort as a band, this original speaks of the heartbreak and hope of the Celtic diaspora, and the dreams of coming to America.

Chorus:
Look away, look away to the hills of America
West of the sunset we're destined to roam
Look away, look away to the hills of America
Soon we will call them the sweet hills of home

Long have I lived in the land of my fathers
Working the soil that was passed down to me
Though famine and hardship could never defeat us
The crown took our land and our right to be free

(chorus)

I cannot look back as they weigh up the anchor
There's sorrow in parting but hope on the wind
In the eyes of my wife and the eyes of our people
Our courage rekindled, our journey begins

(chorus)

They say there's a land to the west of the sunset
Where the hills are like emeralds and the streams run with gold
Where a man's hope and sweat can earn him his vision
No child cries in hunger or dies from the cold

(chorus)

Brian "Logan" Sullivan--vocals, guitar
Arthur Hinds--vocals, guitar
Larry Morris--pennywhistle, vocals
Clyde Gilbert--vocals

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.

 

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries.

 

Vendertainers that brought many things to a show and are know for helping out where ever they can.

As well as being a place where the older hand made items could be found made by them and enjoyed by all.

We expanded over the years to become well known at what we do. Now we represent over 100 artisans and craftsman that are well known in their venues and some just starting out. Some of their works have been premiered in TV, stage and movies on a regular basis.

Specializing in Medieval, Goth , Stage Film, BDFSM and Practitioner.

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

Likewise, it is typical for these history-lovers to peruse the tent (aka mobile store front) and, upon finding something that pleases the eye, ask "Is this period?"

A deceitful query!! This is not a yes or no question. One must have a damn good understanding of European history (at least) from the fall of Rome to the mid-1600's to properly answer. Taking into account, also, the culture in which the querent is dressed is vitally important. You see, though it may be well within medieval period, it would be strange to see a Viking wearing a Caftan...or is it?

After a festival's time of answering weighty questions such as these, I'd sleep like a log! Only a mad man could possibly remember the place and time for each piece of kitchen ware, weaponry, cloth, and chain within a span of 1,000 years!! Surely there must be an easier way, a place where he could post all this knowledge...

Traveling Within The World is meant to be such a place. A place for all of these artists to keep in touch and directly interact with their fellow geeks and re-enactment hobbyists, their clientele.

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