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The Coven of Riding House

from The Skirl of the Tyne by Dinenthal

/

lyrics

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?

credits

from The Skirl of the Tyne, released August 28, 2023
Dinenthal - All instruments & vocals
Written, recorded & produced by Dinenthal at Khazad-dûm Studio.

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