The Winter Songs

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Re: The Winter Songs

Post  quicksilvercrescendo on Sat 28 Jan 2012, 23:15

Angelique


Thou dawdl'd not bringing me fro Aether to Nether,
Still, duringly cling I on to this heather -
Dew-scented blossom; thou wast pristine,
The sweven of thee ne'er will I cede, my colleen.
Drat this creature of memories ill,
Foolhardy and fey I may be, yet him I shall quell.

'Vaunt! - Devil tyne -
Wadst thou wane fore'ermae;
Daunt - sinsyne thence,
Ta'en as a dint, Angelique?

Perforce and grinningly shall I maim in the vie -
Alas dastard! - hanging by the noose die.

'Vaunt! - Devil tyne -
Wadst thou wane fore'ermae;
Daunt - sinsyne thence,
Ta'en as a dint, Angelique?

'Come not wont to this uncouth Devil!,
Lest to a Devil thou wilt translate...my Angel.

'Vaunt! - Devil tyne -
Wadst thou wane fore'ermae;
Daunt - sinsyne thence,
Ta'en as a dint, Angelique?

Aoede


Parch'd of words, parch'd of lauds,
Lorn and tyned fro my wame -
'Seech I more perforce indeed:
Lap I of thee: Thou art want.

With dulcet gust thine floret,
Which I yet would not do -
Pray I thee for thine avail -
Lave me in it; I want more!

For my loe, not be adust.

Come see as the wind: Chant -
I let thee come in -
Come see as the wind, Aoede.

As of lote - upon thee dote,
Lowing 'tis, true forsooth,
Tisn't a tongue, nay merely mote,
Thou art grandly mae than couth':
Eft and e'er doth it eke -
I am what I do behold.

For my loe, not be adust.

Come see as the wind: Chant -
I let thee come in -
Come see as the wind, Aoede.

Siren


Haste not thine wisdom, for the hollow is ta'en -
By whom, know I not; 'lack! am I of twain -
And as a crux - cede I my words -
Fro my heart wilt thou ne'er
Have I been 'sooth sinsyne.
Be left without - come!

Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine,
Ryking for me:
Ryking for thee;
"List and heed", thou say'st
Wistful, whistful -
Chancing to lure.
Chancing to lure,
Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis -
Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!

Mayhap lured by the scent of lote -
'Od! - the foetid - eft hie back I mote;
For what I did my soul atrounced,
How I wish for thee again,
O! do believe me, 'twasn't a frounce.
Will I give thee it: Troth.

Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine,
Ryking for me:
Ryking for thee;
"List and heed", thou say'st
Wistful, whistful -
Chancing to lure.
Chancing to lure,
Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis -
Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!

Venus


Circa mea pectora multa sunt suspiria
De tua pulchritudine, que me ledunt misere.

Venus! - I trow'd thou wast my friend -
Professed to Heaven thou wouldst send;
As a disciple of a villain
Didst thou act the tragedienne.

Iam amore virginali totus ardeo.
Amor volat undique, captus est libidine.

Venus! - I trow'd thou wast my friend -
Professed to Heaven thou wouldst send;
As a disciple of a villain
Didst thou act the tragedienne.

Iam amore virginali totus ardeo.
Circa mea pectora multa sunt suspiria
De tua pulchritudine, que me ledunt misere.
Tui lucent oculi sicut solis radij,
Sicut splendor fulguris, qui lucem donat tenebris.

Poppæa


Dream of a funeral, blest temptress - behest me! - A funeral thou'lt hark, swarth murderess - the Devil, Thine feral grith with me, Poppaea, be Hell's hap: Waylaid the beldame bawd, the niggard: Laughing tragedy. And the wench doth bawdness to blow, Stay my adamant - Suffer me to transfix thee: And the wench doth bawdness to blow, Let me dawt thine twain - And, twine 'hem apart. Of marrow, do na mell; I am Morelle - The bosom'd Titivil; travail me; fain, Subdue me with thine lote in oneness - make haste yet, Displode me in a font - Poppaea, do what thou wilt. And the wench doth bawdness to blow, Stay my adamant - Suffer me to transfix thee: And the wench doth bawdness to blow, Let me dawt thine twain - And, twine 'hem apart.

Samantha


Cede the wherefores and do na chide,
Maybe I am peenging - ween of joy;
Cede the wherefores and do na chide -
Thrawn and slab of leer I hold thee, and yore was 'gal.

Riddance,
Sith the one.

Virago


Twit me, I am thy tyke;
Meekness for thee aught.

Yerk me to weal daut',
Sweven nor Muse
Wad taw me to this ruddy hue -
Wark aptly my drear,
'Hesting dirdum:
Heyday! - a swingeing shrew.

Skelp me - gar me pain,
Pray soft; tender ache.

Yerk me to weal daut',
Sweven nor Muse
Wad taw me to this ruddy hue -
Wark aptly my drear,
'Hesting dirdum:
Heyday! - a swingeing shrew.
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Re: The Winter Songs

Post  quicksilvercrescendo on Sat 28 Jan 2012, 23:41

With a new vocalist and absence of old english lyrics.


Storm (Tornado Mix)


Beauty in Deconstruction
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Re: The Winter Songs

Post  quicksilvercrescendo on Sun 29 Jan 2012, 01:32

My wife works with the newer vocalist teaching at the same school.

But the band disbanded two years ago.
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Re: The Winter Songs

Post  KapitanScarlet on Tue 31 Jan 2012, 17:52

I like some of this theatre of tragedy , must be the synergism of testosterone guitar and the feminine harmonious vocals as supposed to the usual male demonic screams that accompany that genre Very Happy
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Re: The Winter Songs

Post  quicksilvercrescendo on Tue 31 Jan 2012, 18:11

The earlier stuff the guy growled, later he whispered.
Contrasted with the angelic feminine voice...the music was labeled "Beauty and the Beast" music.
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Re: The Winter Songs

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