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The Skirl of the Tyne

by Dinenthal

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Sýðtinan (South Tyne) From out of the deep of Cross Fell And beyond the land of Healfdene The high hill by two rivers The watch on high Crossed by Rome’s stone arch So far from the Fell’s source Washed the feet of the Gaul Our lore charts its course Sacrifices to Saturn and Jupiter Never left the invaders dry Their stone scar across our land Two thousands years under our sky Past ruined monoliths The liquid serpent coils Wind erodes the myths The swollen river boils Shattered isles desperately sought A barren waste where crops will fail Winds howl through the ruined fort Midwinter’s moon hangs so pale Herlaþing Gathering storm upon a black sky Shapes move upon the dark moor Fear seeds in the watch on high Lightning shadows chase the spoor The eyes of Woden’s steed blaze red Shadows move between the flashes Lightning masks the screams of the dying Rain washes away the blood of the dead The hunt moves through the Sycamore Gap Wind and ice rain howl into the dark Souls scream in terror, blades in their back A curse upon the vile, Woden leaves his mark The hunted never escape Chased to the ends of time Marked men accept their fate The rest of us are just blind Rivers fall from the sky Forks of light split the night Desolate souls eternal cry Prey must pray for their lives Risen from the depths of the Deadwater Burn Through blood-soaked fields, her flow doth turn Dark waters lie silent in the forests of the north A welt of stars reflect the chaos that does burn Scours through Northumbrian forest ’Neath boughs of spruce and Norway pine Roots intertwine under needled soil A vein of water as ancient as time Thistles and roses Star spattered boughs The Hermit’s well A under a sky of crows Borders and forests A liquid serpent turns Ancient glacial vales Dark pools and burns
3.
Alston Moor 03:41
Dinenthal - All instruments & vocals Written, recorded & produced by Dinenthal at Khazad-dûm Studio.
4.
Herlaþing 04:50
Gathering storm upon a black sky Shapes move upon the dark moor Fear seeds in the watch on high Lightning shadows chase the spoor The eyes of Woden’s steed blaze red Shadows move between the flashes Lightning masks the screams of the dying Rain washes away the blood of the dead The hunt moves through the Sycamore Gap Wind and ice rain howl into the dark Souls scream in terror, blades in their back A curse upon the vile, Woden leaves his mark The hunted never escape Chased to the ends of time Marked men accept their fate The rest of us are just blind Rivers fall from the sky Forks of light split the night Desolate souls eternal cry Prey must pray for their lives
5.
Sýðtinan (South Tyne) From out of the deep of Cross Fell And beyond the land of Healfdene The high hill by the two rivers The watch on high Crossed by Rome’s stone arch So far from the Fell’s source Washed the feet of the Gaul Our lore charts its course Sacrifices to Saturn and Jupiter Never left the invaders dry Their stone scar across our land Two thousands years under our sky Past ruined monoliths The liquid serpent coils Wind erodes the myths The swollen river boils Shattered isles desperately sought A barren waste where crops will fail Winds howl through the ruined fort Midwinter’s moon hangs so pale Herlaþing Gathering storm upon a black sky Shapes move upon the dark moor Fear seeds in the watch on high Lightning shadows chase the spoor The eyes of Woden’s steed blaze red Shadows move between the flashes Lightning masks the screams of the dying Rain washes away the blood of the dead The hunt moves through the Sycamore Gap Wind and ice rain howl into the dark Souls scream in terror, blades in their back A curse upon the vile, Woden leaves his mark The hunted never escape Chased to the ends of time Marked men accept their fate The rest of us are just blind Rivers fall from the sky Forks of light split the night Desolate souls eternal cry Prey must pray for their lives Cursed by the her absence From the feast of the martyr Silence stitching in darkness The bridge builder’s daughter Feudal lord seeks his excise Takes from the poor and pious Lightning burns out his eyes A symbol of eternal defiance A stolen axe seeks its revenge The handle may crush the head A blade of sharp steel will avenge The thief Walter of Flanders is dead Her Stained glass window panes From dark earth, water bourne Grey stone of her long lanes Mists drifting in Hareshaw Burn
6.
Munucceaster By the banks of this great river England’s great northern fortress A billion tones of coal hewn Fire the furnaces of the dark gods Rise the great iron keels Vast skeletons of steel Hammering glowing rivets ferrous tributes to the gods of the Tyne Smoke and the fire raged for a century Before the greed of man succumbed Iron bell tolled the end of the shift Furnaces, yards, lives entombed Decay ate away at our beloved heart As the mighty powers fell to ruin Cold wind gust through the cranes Desolate streets under a winter moon Tinanmuðe (Tynemouth) Thirty millions years of eternal flow Great rivers become a legend At the end we begin to slow At the sea, the journey’s end By the tomb of the three great kings Of Diera, Scotland and Northumbria Pen Bal Crag above the Black Middens Through the mists, her ruins disappear As we watch the gathering storm A serpent squall comes rolling in The guns of war lie in the silence Except for the whistling of the wind A journey once begun will surely end Here lies the lore of our ancient blood From the high hills to the northern sea In the ancient kingdom of Northumbria The mists may part to show a pale moon To shine silver light upon her mighty bosom When the river bears her heart to the world And recover that which which burned away I watched as your ship caught the tide And full sails took hold of the cold winds Wayfarer leaves England for the last time I curse the pale stars for my sins The broken harbour mourns the ship that never returns Despair hangs in the air Like the sting of a rusted blade An eternal black flame rages and burns Merging at the Rock of the Warden The waters of the north and south The great river now becomes one On her journey from source to mouth Covers of ancient tombs incised To exorcise dark demonic power Rings of iron defend the dead inside Rooks cast their gaze from the tower The graveyard of the archangel’s kirk By the waters of a united Tyne A confluence, a beginning, a birth Swirling mists on the river are mine
7.
Munucceaster By the banks of this great river England’s great northern fortress A billion tones of coal hewn Fire the furnaces of the dark gods Rise the great iron keels Vast skeletons of steel Hammering glowing rivets ferrous tributes to the gods of the Tyne Smoke and the fire raged for a century Before the greed of man succumbed Iron bell tolled the end of the shift Furnaces, yards, lives entombed Decay ate away at our beloved heart As the mighty powers fell to ruin Cold wind gust through the cranes Desolate streets under a winter moon Tinanmuðe (Tynemouth) Thirty millions years of eternal flow Great rivers become a legend At the end we begin to slow At the sea, the journey’s end By the tomb of the three great kings Of Diera, Scotland and Northumbria Pen Bal Crag above the Black Middens Through the mists, her ruins disappear As we watch the gathering storm A serpent squall comes rolling in The guns of war lie in the silence Except for the whistling of the wind A journey once begun will surely end Here lies the lore of our ancient blood From the high hills to the northern sea In the ancient kingdom of Northumbria The mists may part to show a pale moon To shine silver light upon her mighty bosom When the river bears her heart to the world And recover that which which burned away I watched as your ship caught the tide And full sails took hold of the cold winds Wayfarer leaves England for the last time I curse the pale stars for my sins The broken harbour mourns the ship that never returns Despair hangs in the air Like the sting of a rusted blade An eternal black flame rages and burns Dancing with the devil, saddled and bridled Transfiguring into creatures unbound Riding on the crockery and cutlery of Yew The discovery of witches has been found Feasting upon satan’s bounty Swinging on a rope from the ceiling They danced with their horned god A tale too tall for them to believe in Punished for her lies and tales Stripped naked and covered in hot wax Reliquified and poured given to taste The tongue can no longer tell false facts Yet the self appointed witchfinder swung Nailed to a beam in the inn scullery Was this revenge from the coven? Or her escape from her discovery?
8.
Iron Ettins 04:08
By the banks of this great river England’s great northern fortress A billion tones of coal hewn Fire the furnaces of the dark gods Rise the great iron keels Vast skeletons of steel Hammering glowing rivets ferrous tributes to the gods of the Tyne Smoke and the fire raged for a century Before the greed of man succumbed Iron bell tolled the end of the shift Furnaces, yards, lives entombed Decay ate away at our beloved heart As the mighty powers fell to ruin Cold wind gust through the cranes Desolate streets under a winter moon
9.
Jotun Cor scoured the rocks From the bones of this shattered isle Hurling hammers and twisted stones Claim the majestic lands of the Tyne The depths rose to meet the sky At the mercy of Aegir’s Nine Wrath of the giant god of the Tyne The howling tide of those who died Reefs lie in wait Their masters long gone The eternal dark fate Legends remembered in song Stricken are the ships Sacrifed to the Ettins Fate is the word on sealed lips Only drowned by screams
10.
Tinanmuðe 05:50
Thirty millions years of eternal flow Great rivers become a legend At the end we begin to slow At the sea, the journey’s end By the tomb of the three great kings Of Diera, Scotland and Northumbria Pen Bal Crag above the Black Middens Through the mists, her ruins disappear As we watch the gathering storm A serpent squall comes rolling in The guns of war lie in the silence Except for the whistling of the wind A journey once begun will surely end Here lies the lore of our ancient blood From the high hills to the northern sea In the ancient kingdom of Northumbria The mists may part to show a pale moon To shine silver light upon her mighty bosom When the river bears her heart to the world And recover that which which burned away I watched as your ship caught the tide And full sails took hold of the cold winds Wayfarer leaves England for the last time I curse the pale stars for my sins The broken harbour mourns the ship that never returns Despair hangs in the air Like the sting of a rusted blade An eternal black flame rages and burns
11.
reathing the howling wind Under the canvas painted sky Waves upon the beach grind Between the sounds I scry I see your echo blown in the sands A fractured second out of time Separated by the skirling tides So far north from the Tyne I gasp for air lost in my mind Ensnared by life’s most cruel joke And embittered by the unkind We are fragile as a wisp of smoke The sea is without memory How I miss the saline air A visitor to the aquatic treasury Will forever yearn to be there
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What is left when your demons have devoured your soul? Consumed by grief, guilt, betrayal and addiction, whole. An isolated entity, cold, naked and alone, Memories of what was, a lifetime of failure takes its toll. A crown of ash and a throne of lies A broken man hated and despised This is my last dance under the welt of stars I have no will left, my heart atrophied to a ball of scars The world is a broken gaol and life is the rusted bars A final breath and smash down the galactic walls I am the last of that line, the only son Peace will return when I’m gone Stand by me and light the cresset For this is after all, my final exit.

about

The Skirl of the Tyne

The North Tyne rises from Deadwater Fell near the Scottish Border and the South Tyne rises on Alston Moor in Cumbria. They finally merge at Warden Rock to form the River Tyne. Along the banks of this historic river whispered legends of mighty giants, witchcraft, curses and even the mythical Wild Hunt. In more modern times, great machines burrowed deep into the ground to extract the high grade coal to fuel great northern industry and to feed the south with winter fuel.
As the years passed, the cranes fell silent on the docks and the machines ceased digging in the dark places, but the songs and the legends live on in the poems and songs of the north.

credits

released August 28, 2023

Dinenthal - All instruments & vocals
Written, recorded & produced by Dinenthal at Khazad-dûm Studio.

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