Скачать или смотреть Ceolskog - The Dying Bushman (New Zealand Folk Metal)

This is my rendition of "The Dying Bushman", a New Zealand folk song. It's sadly a bit forgotten. I first found out about it from Phil Garland's book, "Faces in the Firelight". Phil Garland is a "Kiwi Balladeer and Singing Historian", according to his website. After I read it, I then sought out his songbook, "The Singing Kiwi Song Book", where I was presented with three different versions. I took elements of all three.

It was popular among south-island bushmen about 100 years ago but not so well-known anymore. I love this folk song but I must say that the idea of cutting down native bush makes me cringe a bit!

Phil Garland has also recorded this song. There are two recorded versions, the earliest one is on his "Colonial Yesterdays" album (1976), while the other lengthier version is on "How Are You, Mate?" (1990). The lengthier version is also on his compilation album "Under the Southern Cross". Here is his longer version:    • Phil Garland - The Dying Bushman (New Zeal...  

Ceolskog is the folk metal project of Adam Helliwell, from Hamilton, New Zealand. Ceol means music in Irish Gaelic, and skog means forest in Norwegian and Swedish.

Ceolskog Bandcamp page: http://ceolskog.bandcamp.com/

Ceolskog Facebook:   / ceolskog  

Ceolskog on iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/ce...

Ceolskog on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_srch...

Ceolskog Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/1215976...

Ceolskog on Twitter:   / ceolskog  

Ceolskog on Soundcloud:   / adamhelliwell  

Phil Garland's website: http://www.philgarland.co.nz/index-ma...

Lyrics:

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.