Wharram Percy

from by Way Through

/

lyrics

Wharram Percy

East Riding wold, chalk valley remote.
A deserted plateau, full of weathered stones.
You can trace an outline.

Powerlines flank, ditches and banks.
An echo of a village, a melancholic margin.
You can relive everything.

Wharram Percy,
Left abandoned before English sonnets
Spoke of nature in their childhood.
In the neck of our woods, can this land remember?
Listen, Listen to the voice, that’s no longer here, listen.
Listen to the voice, that’s no longer here,
Listen to the voice returning

A snowball hangs, dead in midair
The slot-like tracks of a racing hare,
Passing over stile after stile.

Walk through the walls, grass for a floor.
The ghost of a church with a heavy, new door.
A giant stole the roof tiles.

Here lieth the body of Ann the daughter of William Vescy.
Here lieth the body of Ralph the son of William Vescy.
1687, 1695.
Seven hundred graves lie beside silenced.
Door keys and belt buckles lie beside silent.
Axe blades and arrowheads lie beside silent.
The soundless flight of the Barn Owl, silent.
Glorious tasks perfecting silence.
Glorious tasks perfecting.

credits

from CLAPPER IS STILL, released November 11, 2013

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about

Way Through London, UK

WAY THROUGH are Claire Titley and Christopher Tipton, a pastoral punk duo originally from Shropshire, now residing in London. Informed by the field as much as the flyover, Way Through write songs which phase out with guitar, tapes, damaged drums and vocals. Using wrong-footed repetition, rapid interplay and free-looping happenstance the band create a ragged yet intuitive tapestry of sound. ... more

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