1. |
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There's mischief in the eyes of peddlers
A love to dance in the hearts of meddlers
I'll trade steeds but never trade 'way my days
To be a working slave
A graceful road to a quiet grave
A merchant with a broomstick chasing my mother away
If I'm a goblin or a devil
Why do I send joy to the rabble?
Why do I fill your childrens' hearts with hope?
You send them to dreamland
Armed with lies that I have no fortune grand
Name me a working man
But I am not a slave
No I am not a slave, no
You set traps for the vultures
When they come for the dead
Over the hills, under the earth
Goodnight, city
Fiddles lilting
'Round the licks, a victory dance
Eat and drink and sing my children
And here is wealth!
Bread for the bakers
And goods from the makers
There's shoes not fit for their princes
But fit for we
Kings and queens
Oh, if you could taste our dreams
They're breeding strangers, bitter settlers
And there's mischief in the eyes of meddlers
|
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2. |
One Stone Cast (Demo)
02:58
|
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Cast a stone into the stream to feel how much has passed
Feel the strength of your screams as worlds alter
From just one stone cast
Hold land in your hands, hold all of its power
On days when you think you're alone in your bower
Your fences of nature will crumble
And finally you last
The earth finally lasts
A piece from the waterside becomes a ripple in stream
As the end's in the skies as you're planting up all of your means
The gods don't march along with you
Or cry when you've bled
But they smile when you feast
On the fare that they've spread
When you hold the stone of the earth
And you're stitching your seams
Stitching your seams
Oh what a sight that we are to see
The masters of earth and the masters of sea
Oh what a sight
But oh, let us be
Where will we end on this path to be free?
This war for peace?
And now we all gather to pray to the rocks and the creeks
To remember, the ground we all stand on
Is that which we seek
To hold land in our hands, hold all of its power
If they didn't destroy it, well surely they'd cower
The dreams of the morning
As we cast our stones to the streams
Stones to the streams
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3. |
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There was a knockin' at my door
It's the dreaded landlord
He wants his rent and wants it now
And he is careless how
He left us in a vacant daze
Askin' how we got here
And we retired to slumber
But the glasses never were rinsed
There was a tapping on my back
It's the dreaded foreman
I think I see a smile
Through his teeth and his cigar
He put my hands to working
Said they'd otherwise do nothing
And I made a thousand things today
I'm sure I'll never use
There was a ringing of my bell
I picked it up to answer
They said they were my comrade
But they couldn't say my name
So I asked about the sun and moon
And what their thoughts on time were
They hung it up in madness
And went on to punch the clock
And somewhere there's a sound of someone singing
I got an invitation once to liberty
They had a mischief brew, but no goblets were used
Besting rum or porter
'Tis a liquor never brewed, never brewed
There was a rapping at my door
It's the dreaded policeman
He had a ticket to enter
Signed by fools and stamped with laws
He questioned me on politics
Scorned my generation
For not respecting elders
And the land's authority
So when the landlord came to knock
I said, "Come back tomorrow!"
There's more life I'll be living
Than just slaving from your wage
And to the troop and foreman
Make yourself the things I don't use
For I'm off into the forest
For a liquor never brewed
Today, I'm following the sound of someone singing
I got an invitation once to liberty
They had a mischief brew, but no goblets were used
Besting rum or porter
'Tis a liquor never brewed, never brewed
|
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4. |
Anti-Lullaby (Demo)
04:01
|
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We are bouncing and dancing as you sing your lullaby
Shouting “move” when you say “stay.”
The tune of your flute is a rifle you shoot
That lays us all down to be prey
They love you, we hate you
We made you to break you today
Breaking away
We are painting the walls, making jokes out of laws
Hiding sleeping pills under our tongues
Shut the light, close the door, we spit them to the floor
Then we’re hummin’ and a’strummin’ and a’bangin’ on drums
What did you know when you said we are wasting away?
How could you say?
How could you say we just waste away, waste away?
Big table not big enough
How could you say we just waste away, waste away?
Hummin’ and a’strummin’ and a’bangin’ on drums
We will not be lulled into slumber by you
We will not be lulled into sleep
For we’ve had a taste of this wondrous place
And its treasures, we intend to keep
So now when they say we just waste away, waste away
You can say hey, it’s not so
Why is it then that we’re growing
And growing and growing and growing
And showing them all what we know?
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5. |
Barratry Call (Demo)
01:59
|
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Barratry, hey!
Barratry, hey!
|
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6. |
||||
Who is this that stands before me
With a candle at its end?
There's a fire in the wheatfield
And a storm around the bend
There's strangers out a'prowling
'Round the great harvests of hay
So gather all your family
And send them all away
And to your youngest daughter
Hide her smiles, hide her curls
For the master is a drunkard
And he'll sell her off for pearls
Hide her from the vile workbeast
Cover her ears from the screaming world
For the master is a drunkard
And he'll sell her off for pearls
Who goes before the tyrants
Wielding innocence, like fools?
You'll need a thousand armies
And a tale to tell your troops
Tell a tale of harsh oppression
And the will to thrive again
How your master is a bastard
And his day must see its end
And when they start to falter
Bring their hearts a carving knife
And I will not wince in sorrow
Sir, you did not take a life
For on the final day of lashing
You won the wardship of their souls
Captured, blackened by your orders
Then set free in the wintry cold
You say your master is a bastard
And you cannot stand his yoke
If your master is a bastard
Take a knife up to his throat
There's no means to scold your daughter
When she overturns a stone
There's no comfort in a dark house
No harmony in torpid moans
Work, rest, pay to die
Your bones are rickety hinges
Your back, a rusty tin
So you shambled to your bedside
Found your wife in bed with him
If your master is a drunkard
Don't bring him wine, or pour
If your master is a drunkard
Escape to freedom while he snores
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7. |
The Stone Worker (Demo)
03:48
|
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I'm humble, alone
An old cutter of stone
The maker, the shaper
The smith of your home
No magician am I
For once I did thrive
But now I can barely survive
My love went away
By boat and by train
To somewhere, find someone
With prosperous trade
In the woods of Old Penn
There's work to be done
Build mansions for the landworkers' sons
Where they threw away the knife for the gun
The brick for the feather
They cut a friend's throat
Then they run
They're fighting the rise of the sun
They left me poor and alone and one
So years did pass by
How I did survive
With faith that my friends
Would come back to my side
But I gathered a lot
The craft wasn't forgotten
We stand and our fruits won't go rotten
We didn't throw away the knife for the gun
The brick for the feather
Didn't cut a friend's throat
And then run
They're fighting the rise of the sun
They left me poor and alone and one
So one day back they came
Brought little but shame
Their children in arms
And their bodies in pain
They shivered in the cold
I saw from my stone home
And they knocked 'til tears rained on the snow
They cried, "Worker of stone that we left long ago,
We're sorry we migrated to join the rows.
But now we've returned
Yes now we've come home
There's no place that we'd rather go, no."
Why humble my tone?
An old cutter of stone
The maker, the shaper
The smith of your home
A magician am I
For I did survive
Cause I never became civilized
I didn't throw away the knife for the gun
The brick for the feather
Didn't cut a friend's throat and then run
They're fighting the rise of the sun
They came back poor and alone and one
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8. |
Weapons (Demo)
04:28
|
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There's a hole in the wall
There's a light down the hall
There's a pest in the system
So we'll surely hear it fall
There's a knife in my pouch
And a hammer in my belt
There's a pot on the fire
So the joy's yet to be felt
There's home, there's a well
There's a ringing of the bell
So tonight we feast on treasures
That they could never sell
Spirits sing, spirits fly
Through the window, see the sky
Where the moon calls not for slumber
But mischief, joy, and might
So our weapons seem not much to show
But they don't kill, they only help us grow
No they don't kill
We got our weapons
We brew a mighty ale
The dead are dancing on their graves
As drums and fiddles wail
We got our weapond
We bring them to stones
The victuals wer
There's a knock at the door
Well, I wonder who it's for
Gotcher walking stick a'ready
There still are different shores
With a mind in our heads
And a heart in our chests
With the world at our boot tips, lad
Our hands hold the rest
I've seen the towers they build on and up
I got the mirth already in my cup
i've felt the winds they try to bottle up and sell
I've walked an earth that they could never kill
No we won't kill
There's a hood 'round my shoulders
And a banjo in my hands
As the notes rise like smoke rings
Together shall we dance
This is the flicker through the window
"Food is warm in here," it beckons
While outside bites the winter air
Inside you'll find our weapons.
Weapons, weapons...
So our weapons seem not much to show
But they don't kill
They only help us grow
|
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9. |
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Come see pioneers starving on trout
Meet the drunkards of spirit, of soil, of stout
But old silent fires shall someday bathe all
A cider ferments in us all
Final call!
Hear the prophets whose days have gone dim
And for all royal silver, she still won't wed him
Hear the bastards, yes among us, they go
All flaunting freedoms so scarcely known
How I see
Merrily
The unmasking of liberty
As she bows to misery
But her open hands, the joy and dance
And this pattern across a great quilt
For ages to span
You're a traveler packing for years
Armor of rage in a shower of tears
And you never could see that you were wild and loose
'Til a baby blue soldier forbid you to choose
Now you cry: off with these systems and off with these laws!
Bring on the seasons, tradition, and song!
The patterns and cycles
We, hitchers of stars
Shall reel in adventure to shatter these bores
To march from these wars
|
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10. |
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11. |
||||
Come labor, get ready to dance for your bread
My son, I was once where you stand
There's a beast with insatiable hunger
Its minions need crafters and skilled working hands
Needs a fortress high in the hilltops
And we are the great chosen crew
But I am a lowly carpenter
So what have I power to do?
Oh misery, call us to rise up at dawn
To turn 'way as fast as we can
We may be the mortar that cradles the brick
But I am just one grain of sand
And don't tell me of tossing the wrenches
It only brings pleasure and pain
And we are all lowly carpenters
So where we're taken is where we'll remain
And the masters shall govern with unbroken backs
Look down from the top of the hills
You can cry through the night just as much as you like
There will always be towers to build
I coulda been more than some stone-dragging vassal
I could be more than their wood-cutting slave
But we are all lowly carpenters
So what have we power to change?
And if you can't take no more then get out of the way
For we have a day to get through
We wire their castles, their prisons and banks
Know their mansions from cellar to roof
We've got hammers and wrenches and chisels
We could destroy any great wall we come to
But I am a lowly carpenter
So what have I power to do?
|
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12. |
Boycott Me! (Demo)
02:47
|
|||
Listen to the fife and snare marching through the square
Stencil flags of insurrection dancing through the air
Read the rants of a Thomas Paine of modern day
I have felt a spirit that has not yet gone away
Hey! Boycott me and boycott this
And mute your childrens’ mouths
When they sing along to this very song
Spread word all around
Hey, F.O.P., boycott me!
For I am standing up
I’d rather taste a rebel’s glory
Than drink blood from your cup
Read the rants of those in jail
And those who rode the rails
Then lay down on the roads we paved
Eat the crumbs we used for trails
And discredit all the rogues
Liberty’s crack within the bells
The demons in your heavens
And the angels in your hells
The scorned few of today are the heroes of tomorrow
They’ll be a holiday, times of regret and sorrow
And when they’re pressed on stamps
We’ll hope they’re not forgotten
So let’s go down in history blacklisted and boycotten
|
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13. |
||||
I'll always be a gambler
I cannot dream of another way
Every morning, rise and shine
The dice I throw for the grandest day
I'll always be a gambler
I will bet my goods on a victory
Always sail the River Chance
And break the bounds of our liberty
Shall I place my bet on beauty?
She's won so many tales
Or merry to be with fellowship?
Yet foul no other's trail?
For courage, it will fester
And rot if not found a use
So open every bottle
Eat the sweetest summer fruit
Hey, what card is awaiting?
Are the winds with me?
Will I have bested sorrow?
For soul, a victory
Or will I turn away, defeated
Remain so 'til I die?
A miserable poor man shouting out
"A self-made one was I"
I could spit into the river
Curse the game at the side
Watch the fruits of courage rot
Then run away and hide
Rather, here you'll find me dancing
Down the wildest of trails
At every turn, adventure
And a hope that joy prevails
A hope that joy prevails
I'll always be a gambler
I cannot dream of a richer way
|
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14. |
||||
The devil was the land
Crafted by the hand
And chased out of the pastures into forests grand
And there you'll hear the notes
If you stop to drink this toast
You'll be dancing to the reeds of Pan
And the clergy of today
Will try to lead you away
Into dungeons, set you to work counting days
And yet you shall invoke
All the names of cunning folk
Yearning for the sun in a darkened age
Today our gods are seen
So greedy, how they bleed
They've been busy digging graves for eternity's seed
The farmer is the man
He scatters on his land
Their handiwork, he takes no heed
While prancing 'round the oak
Is the merriest of folk
Laughing like an ass at our wild west jokes
So beware, all fey
His passions are great
They've been bottled up and grown threefold
The duel of man against mystery
Among the village folk
Such wild tales were told
But ways did change as the church, it stole
Earth spirits, stone and seed
Turned sex to greed
And took the face of a musical goat
The devil was the land
Forest, sea, and sand
Now we can barely stand
Or use these tender hands
The duel of man against mystery
Which shall revel in its victory?
The duel of man against mystery
|
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15. |
A Rebel's Romance (Demo)
02:50
|
|||
Goodnight, my dear
Lay aside songs of spite and fear
We lovers are bound
Completing a circle and waltzing around
Your words soothe as fire
Roaring and washing the tinsel from liars
And with every kiss
Solace and bliss will not seem so rare
Our rebel's embrace shall give us a taste
Of truth that is masked by a sly poker face
A spirit is well and alive
Live and we will survive
Goodnight, my love
The moon, she shines from above
So forget all the rough
Rejoice and revolt with love when you rise up
Your words soothe as waters
Carving a path through mountains and mortar
To shatter the ground
Walls of silence with sound
With lions and doves
|
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16. |
||||
Cast a stone into the stream to feel how much has passed
Feel the strength of your screams as worlds alter
From just one stone cast
Hold land in your hands, hold all of its power
On days when you think you're alone in your bower
Your fences of nature will crumble
And finally you last
The earth finally lasts
A piece from the waterside becomes a ripple in stream
As the end's in the skies as you're planting up all of your means
The gods don't march along with you
Or cry when you've bled
But they smile when you feast
On the fare that they've spread
When you hold the stone of the earth
And you're stitching your seams
Stitching your seams
Oh what a sight that we are to see
The masters of earth and the masters of sea
Oh what a sight
But oh, let us be
Where will we end on this path to be free?
This war for peace?
And now we all gather to pray to the rocks and the creeks
To remember, the ground we all stand on
Is that which we seek
To hold land in our hands, hold all of its power
If they didn't destroy it, well surely they'd cower
The dreams of the morning
As we cast our stones to the streams
Stones to the streams
|
Mischief Brew Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Emerging from the undead ashes of PA punk troupe The Orphans, Mischief Brew started with a scratchy demo tape in 2000 and has since spread the good word of anarchy, hilarity, and rebellion across state lines and even the Atlantic Ocean a few times. We've managed to exist for over 13 years in one form or another by kissing nobody's ass and doing everything ourselves, for the most part. No rules! ... more
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