Spotify https://open.spotify.com/track/1PkFKDZxsMzV7exWmyWy17?si=f0711be510a44773
Lyrics
‘Spirits at Rest’ introduces the character Caleb Satterley, the parson at the church of St Hedrok’s. A loveable, comic, character, noted for his uncanny ability to misquote extracts from the bible. He also likes the occasional alcoholic drink – well actually more than occasional. To fuel this particular sin Caleb has taken on the hiding smuggled contraband in the graves and tombs at the churchyard.
The song is in two parts. The first section has Caleb outside the church singing piously and sanctimoniously, gesturing the sign of the cross. Then the tempo picks up and Caleb dances around the graveyard, stopping at the resting place of former members of his congregation to secrete the smuggled goods.
The song is performed by Steven Serlin who deftly navigates the tongue twister and expertly captures Caleb’s character.
Music
Once Steve was happy with the lyric I set about penning a simple unharmonised chant over a sustained harmonium pedal for the pious opening stanzas with an occasional reference to the melody of the double jig which forms the basis of the second part of the song. It was important to trial a precise tempo for the verses and refrain so as to optimise the tongue twister effect. With such dexterity placed upon the dictional prowess of the performer, I was mindful not to over complicate the melodic element, deciding instead to make use of some snappy chord changes to add to the sense of complexity. The Bodhran and plucked tenor banjo parts serving to impart a lively and rolling feel.
Lyrics
North to South
With vibrant mouth
The hallowed ground
With morning song resounds
East to West
This church is blessed
With holy voice
In heaven’s rejoice
But does the hymn
Can the psalm
Lay these rested souls
To calm
Do these praises
Does this faith
Warm the stone
In cold embrace
Within Sir Sam, a soldier
Brave and bold, quite risky
Three musket balls, our hero falls
And now defends our whisky
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
They came to the end of their time
Yet graves come in handy for barrels of brandy
And caskets of Burgundy wine
Here lies Jethro, a jester
On high with the lord of the dance
Enjoying a swig, a joke and a jig
And puffing on baccy from France
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
An afterlife simply divine
Gone life’s final flicker, they now guard the liquor
From grape of a Chardonnay vine
God bless old May, a milkmaid
At peace in the promised land
But I must confess, her funeral dress
Hiding the best contraband
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
Relieved of all suffering and pain
Our lord will excuse, her hosting of booze
And barrels from Alsace Lorraine
Now here sleeps Randolph, a writer
Died quite long in the tooth
It ended, his jotting, but he won’t be rotting
Pickled in 100 proof
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
Begone all those who abstain
These tombs have become, dark cellars of rum
With bottles of finest Champagne
I felt for Scullery Sal
Her life cut tragically short
I tend to visit her daily
Such the demand for her port
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
And the substance of snuff and cigar
The crypt holds a stack of the finest Cognac
Midst the nectar of pressed Pinot noir
Now Spencer’s a sorrowful tale
A life as beggar and cripple
He’ll never awaken, but won’t be forsaken
He’s guarding the squire’s favourite tipple
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
They came to the end of their time
Yet graves come in handy for barrels of brandy
And caskets of Burgundy wine
Forgiven of sin, at rest with the gin
They came to the end of their time
Yet graves come in handy for barrels of brandy
And caskets of Burgundy wine