The Southern Cross and the Northern Star

by Ceolskog

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about

"The Southern Cross and the Northern Star" is my third home-made album, and is a little different to my "Made In My Bedroom" albums. There are no originals - it is totally comprised of folk songs from around the world. The album's name comes from the fact that there are songs from both hemispheres. (Admittedly, only two are from my hemisphere - I had been planning to do more, got got a little tired of the project).

You can download it for free if you wish, just enter 0.00 when asked to name your price. Or you could send a dollar or two my way if you want!

Visit my Facebook and YouTube pages:

www.facebook.com/ceolskog

www.youtube.com/adamhelliwell

credits

released March 19, 2017

This album is dedicated to Phil Garland (RIP; 1942 - 2017).

Adam Helliwell - Lead, rhythm and acoustic guitars, lead and backing vocals, bass, programming, mixing and mastering.

Stephanie Helliwell - Female vocals on track 2. (Thanks, sistah!)

Russell Helliwell - Backing vocals on track 1. (Thanks, Dad!)

Matt Dalgety - Backing vocals on track 1. (Thanks, stinky bum!)

Adam's Computer - Drums, strings, piano, and Adam's frustrations.

Photo by Kaylene Helliwell. (Thanks Mum!)

tags

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all rights reserved

about

Ceolskog Hamilton, New Zealand

Ceolskog is the folk metal project of Adam Helliwell, a singer and guitarist from New Zealand. Ceolskog's style is a cross between traditional folk music, particularly Celtic and Nordic, and heavy metal.

Ceol means music in Irish, and skog means forest in Norwegian. Although a solo project for now, it will hopefully become an entire band in the future.
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Track Name: The Dying Bushman (New Zealand)
I've knocked around the logging camps since early boyhood days,
I've seen the famous axe-men come and go.
But now my time has come and I know that I am done,
Please don't take me from the only home I know.

The tramways in the valley I shall never tread again,
No more I'll hear the hauler's whistle blow.
My chopping days are over, I shall swing that axe no more,
On the hillsides where the native timbers grow.
The hillsides where the native timbers grow.

Chorus: For my slasher is all rusty, my axe-handle is broke
I have hung them up behind the whare door.
For the Rimu and the Rata have got so mighty tough,
That I just can't seem to chop them any more.
No, I just can't seem to chop them any more.

In all the West Coast forest, there was none could chop like me,
I long again to hear the felling's roar.
Down the valley of the shadow I'll soon be on the track,
Where oft-times I've seen bushmen go before.

And when I sleep my last long sleep, I pray that it may be,
With the Miro and the Matai and the Pine,
And the Ngaio and the Hinau and the Koromiko tree,
Grow forever by the lonely grave of mine.
Grow forever by the lonely grave of mine.

Chorus: For my slasher is all rusty, my axe-handle is broke
I have hung them up behind the whare door.
For the Rimu and the Rata have got so mighty tough,
That I just can't seem to chop them any more.
No, I just can't seem to chop them any more.
Track Name: The Foggy Foggy Dew (England)
When I was a bachelor, I lived all alone,
I worked at the weaver's trade.
And the only, only for which I did long,
Was the love a fair young maid.
I wooed her in the wintertime,
And in the summer, too.
I married her that year and I held her in my arms,
Just to keep her from the foggy, foggy dew.

Sweeter than a rose in bloom,
Warmer than the evening hue,
My heart so hurt,
And filled with love for you.
Your heart, so pure,
Gone, now, so fair and true.
Alone, I am, with the foggy dew.

One night she came to my bedside,
While I was fast asleep.
She laid her head upon my chest,
And she began to weep.
She sighed, she cried, she damn near died,
She said what shall I do?
So I took her into bed, and I held her in my arms,
Just to keep her from the foggy foggy dew.

Sweeter than a rose in bloom,
Warmer than the evening hue,
My heart so hurt,
And filled with love for you.
Your heart, so pure,
Gone, now, so fair and true.
Alone, I am, with the foggy dew.

Now, I am a widower, I live with my son
We work at the weaver's trade.
And every single time that I look into his eyes
He reminds me of my young maid.
He reminds me of the wintertime,
And of the summer, too.
And of the many, many times that I held her in my arms,
To keep her from the foggy, foggy, dew.

Sweeter than a rose in bloom,
Warmer than the evening hue,
My heart so hurt,
And filled with love for you.
Your heart, so pure,
Gone, now, so fair and true.
Alone, I am, with the foggy dew.
Track Name: Danse Mi Vise (Norway)
Vinden blæs synna, og vinden blæs norda,
lyset og skuggen er syskjen på jorda.
Sommarn er stutt, og vintern er lang.

Danse mi vise, gråte min sang.

Innunder yta glir moldmørke årer.
Blåveisen blømer i gråbleike vårer.
Livstrua bryt gjennom tele og tvang.

Danse mi vise, gråte min sang.

Friarar er vi, om vona er lita.
Nynn om 'a Berit, så får du 'a Brita.
Drøm på din stein at du sit på et fang.

Danse mi vise, gråte min sang.

Somme er fattige, og somme er rike.
Bare tel slutt er vi jamsis og like.
Vegen er lystig, og vegen er vrang.

Danse mi vise, gråte min sang.