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PostPosted: Fri Dec 03, 2010 12:34 am 
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And now we have all the lyrics to Let England Shake:
http://pjharvey.lucidwebs.co.uk/lyrics2.html

I wonder if she'll actually play the sax at the upcoming gigs!

I think this was cited before, but "The Fountain Of Death" brings up an interesting literary reference which could be what Polly had in mind.

http://www.bartleby.com/81/6733.html

"In Jerusalem Delivered, the hermit tells Charles and Ubald of a fountain, the sight of which excites thirst, but those who taste its water die with laughter."

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PostPosted: Sat Dec 04, 2010 8:55 pm 
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I cannot wait to hear her finally play saxophone!!!

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PostPosted: Sun Dec 05, 2010 12:34 am 
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same!! I wonder if she will actually play the sax at the next gigs??!

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PostPosted: Sun Dec 05, 2010 3:48 pm 
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finally I can appreciate what she sang properly

Another day for you, Bobby, to come home
and tell me indifference is won.


in front of this way to cut phrase during the performance
I maight think that in Last Rose the words are :idea:

The head shake
The last living rose quiver


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PostPosted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 12:11 am 
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She played saxophone in primed and ticking I'm pretty sure. I really like the lyrical style for this album, it reminds me of Bob Dylan, it's really folky.

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PostPosted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 12:53 am 
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During the 2010-12-01 Nemone interview she only mentions the guitar and autoharp when she talks about the upcoming shows. So I doubt she'll play the sax. Let's face it, it would veer too close to being hilarious if she did that.

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PostPosted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 8:27 pm 
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The Last Living Rose:
http://pjharvey.lucidwebs.co.uk/lyrics3.html

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PostPosted: Tue Dec 21, 2010 2:51 pm 
DrDark wrote:
We can correct the beginning of Let England Shake (above) from this:

"The West's asleep let England shake
Weighted down in silent death"

to this:

"The West's asleep. Let England shake
Weighted down with silent dead"


Not far off then?? :wink:


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PostPosted: Wed Dec 22, 2010 6:17 am 
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^ No, not too shabby.

WAY off on first line of The Last Living Rose though. I wonder how that line will go over in Paris? :laugh:

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PostPosted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 1:21 pm 
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The Glorious Land
a bugle rears its ‘Reveille’ throughout the song

How is our glorious country ploughed? Not by iron ploughs
Our lands is ploughed by tanks and feet,
fee-eet maa-arrching
Oh, America
Oh, Eng-laa-aand
How is our glorious country sown? not with weed and corn
How is our glorious land bestowed?
What is the glorious fruit of our land?
Its fruit is deformed children

edit: in one of the last verse I didn't hear 'deformed', but 'horrible' or something...


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PostPosted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 4:31 pm 
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I heard "the fruit is evil\equal children" and the one that's different I heard "orphaned". I'm not sure about it obviously but I wish it is "orphaned".

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PostPosted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 4:29 pm 
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I think the answer to "How is our glorious country sewn?" is "Not with WHEAT and corn."

Also, the ending answers sound like:

"The fruit is inborn children,
The fruit is inborn children,
The fruit is orphan children,
The fruit is inborn children."


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 6:22 pm 
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Wheat is correct to me
as also deformed and orphaned. imo

edit: but I'm not sure about it obviously and I'd love to discuss on it


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PostPosted: Tue Jan 11, 2011 1:26 am 
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An attempt at Bitter Branches. Go ahead and correct any of my inevitable mistakes.

"Bitter Branches"

Bitter branches
spreading out.
There’s none more bitter
than the wood.

Into the wide world,
it grows,

twisting under
soldier’s feet,
standing in line
and the damp earth underneath.

Holding up their rifles
high,
holding their young wives
who wave goodbye.

Hold up the clear glass
to look and see
soldiers standing
and the roots twist underneath.

Their young wives with white hands
wave goodbye.
Their arms as bitter branches
spreading into the world.

Wave goodbye,
Wave goodbye…


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PostPosted: Tue Jan 11, 2011 3:42 am 
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My attempt at Hanging In The Wire

Walker sees the mist rise, over no man's land
He sees in front of him, a smashed up waste ground
There are no fields or trees, no plates of grass
Just under it goes ??there hanging in the wire

Walker's in the wire, limbs point upwards
There are no birds singing, the white cliffs of Dover
There are no trees to sing from
Walker cannot hear the wind
Far off the symphony to hear the guns beginning.

Walker's in the mist, rising
Over no man's land.
In the battered waste ground
Hear guns firing.

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