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The Desolate Voice of Paula Sandwill

from The Arbor by Andrew Preston

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lyrics

Oh, the bravest sing,
when the lamplight feigns
all the glory that she set in stone.
Like a marionette casting cobalt breath-
tell the story of the Daniel's Creek rose.

Even the shadows remember that scarlet hair,
worn tightly like a soldier's helm.
And from her aged lips,
not a moment's rest-
a spout of poems from a well.

When the morning rang, and her darling waned
at the mercy of a pillager's cold steel,
and the hapless few,
in the town, they knew,
would be burning in the hands of Paula Sandwill.

On that eve of blood, bereft of love,
and the poor soul's heart in her hands,
she set alight, with a passion unsightly,
surrendered to the devil's plan.

Now in hindsight she bellows a scorned widow's song,
no regret, only soft, soft contempt.
She said, “no human soul, beast or God
shall silence Paula Sandwill's hymn.”

And the children gather curiously,
in the morn at the bottom of the hill.
To hear, they thought, what her torment begot...
the desolate voice of Paula Sandwill.

credits

from The Arbor, released July 21, 2014
Emily Mills - vocals

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Andrew Preston Kentucky

Experimental music with a folksy flare.

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