Tynemouth Song by Alan Hull 🎶
A lesser known gem of a song from Lindisfarne’s lead singer. This featured on a complication album from 1993 called Sailing Home that was released to raise funds for Swan Hunter shipyard. It was re-released in 2012 and can be found here.
The beach in the morning invites me
come sit on my golden sun
and we can watch the sun having breakfast
he eats with a golden hand.
The wind is singing his poems
he whispers his wisdom for free
his shadowy fingers will touch you
and then he play tricks with the sea.
And if I could I would have you beside me
things don’t turn out that way
you’ve no doubt some different ideas
of the passing of your day.
And Tynemouth is telling me secrets
it tries to be friendly with me
the fishermen follow their future
and keep their appointments at sea.
And if I could I would have you beside me
but things don’t turn out that way
You’ve no doubt some different ideas
‘bout the passing of your day.
If I could I would build you a castle
made from Tynemouth sand
I’d build you a seawater swimming pool
by the sweat and the strength of my hand.
But you’ve no doubt some different ideas
‘bout the passing of your day.
And if I could I would have you beside me
but things don’t work out that way
you’ve no doubt some different ideas
‘bout the passing of your day.
No air-built castles, and no fairy bowers,
But thou, fair Tynemouth, and thy well-known towers,
Now bid th’ historic muse explore the maze
Of long past years, and tales of other days.
Pride of Northumbria!—from thy crowded port,
Where Europe’s brave commercial sons resort,
Her boasted mines send forth their sable stores,
To buy the varied wealth of distant shores.
Here the tall lighthouse, bold in spiral height,
Glads with its welcome beam the seaman’s sight.
Here, too, the firm redoubt, the rampart’s length,
The death-fraught cannon, and the bastion’s strength,
Hang frowning o’er the briny deep below,
To guard the coast against th’ invading foe.
Here health salubrious spreads her balmy wings,
And woos the sufferer to her saline springs;
And, here the antiquarian strays around
The ruin’d abbey, and its sacred ground.
Jane Harvey
From ‘The Castle of Tynemouth. A Tale’ (1806)
Photograph: Lee Stoneman
Photograph: Lee Stoneman
No air-built castles, and no fairy bowers,
But thou, fair Tynemouth, and thy well-known towers,
Now bid th’ historic muse explore the maze
Of long past years, and tales of other days.
Pride of Northumbria!—from thy crowded port,
Where Europe’s brave commercial sons resort,
Her boasted mines send forth their sable stores,
To buy the varied wealth of distant shores.
Here the tall lighthouse, bold in spiral height,
Glads with its welcome beam the seaman’s sight.
Here, too, the firm redoubt, the rampart’s length,
The death-fraught cannon, and the bastion’s strength,
Hang frowning o’er the briny deep below,
To guard the coast against th’ invading foe.
Here health salubrious spreads her balmy wings,
And woos the sufferer to her saline springs;
And, here the antiquarian strays around
The ruin’d abbey, and its sacred ground.
Jane Harvey
From ‘The Castle of Tynemouth. A Tale’ (1806)
This song by Alan Hull was beautiful….