A COTTAGE IN THE COUNTRY
©Trev Teasdel - Norwich, August 1974
I see you as an old lady
Sat serenely in your chair
The knitting is in your hand.
In the cradle rocks the bairn.
Though you are still touched by youth
All about you is so slow.
Just as if an old lady
And a rustic. Quaint!
Chorus
And oh so slow the river flows
So (oh) slow - Oh...........
Your husband too, like a country gent
With his waist coat, pipe and stick.
His head bowed down in a book
As a lazy clock does tick.
He with his old mandolin
and Stradivarius violin
I see you as an old lady
Sat serenely in your chair
The knitting is in your hand.
In the cradle rocks the bairn.
Though you are still touched by youth
All about you is so slow.
Just as if an old lady
And a rustic. Quaint!
Chorus
And oh so slow the river flows
So (oh) slow - Oh...........
Your husband too, like a country gent
With his waist coat, pipe and stick.
His head bowed down in a book
As a lazy clock does tick.
He with his old mandolin
and Stradivarius violin
Harmonising with the breeze
Like a slow motion sneeze.
Chorus
And oh so slow the river flows
So (oh) slow oh....
"Scrub a dub dub" in an old wooden tub
Chop up the tree for fire wood.
Chop up the tree for me,
Chop up the tree for warmth and love.
Your hand tills the land
For food and for sale.
There's a goat in your garden
That gives milk in a pail.
An old wishing well and a chemical loo.
A little way out cottage, just suits you.
Brown rice and veg and unleavened bread
You believe 'you are what you are fed'.
Always on the sill, lie apple pies
Away with the ring, the Jackdaw flies.
A few miles away in a smoky old town
Hard to recall how time merry-goes-round
Outside in the lane, wrapped up in your shawl
Fruit and veg on sale on your stall.
Chorus
And oh so slow that river flows
So oh slow oh
It's strange when you think, that not long away
The bairn at your bosom will be making his way
Soon to be at the stage we are now
and we - the older generation.
Chorus
And oh so slow that river flows
So oh slow oh
Like a slow motion sneeze.
Chorus
And oh so slow the river flows
So (oh) slow oh....
"Scrub a dub dub" in an old wooden tub
Chop up the tree for fire wood.
Chop up the tree for me,
Chop up the tree for warmth and love.
Your hand tills the land
For food and for sale.
There's a goat in your garden
That gives milk in a pail.
An old wishing well and a chemical loo.
A little way out cottage, just suits you.
Brown rice and veg and unleavened bread
You believe 'you are what you are fed'.
Always on the sill, lie apple pies
Away with the ring, the Jackdaw flies.
A few miles away in a smoky old town
Hard to recall how time merry-goes-round
Outside in the lane, wrapped up in your shawl
Fruit and veg on sale on your stall.
Chorus
And oh so slow that river flows
So oh slow oh
It's strange when you think, that not long away
The bairn at your bosom will be making his way
Soon to be at the stage we are now
and we - the older generation.
Chorus
And oh so slow that river flows
So oh slow oh
At the end of August / beginning of September 1974 my firsends Lyndie and Steve Brimstone moved to Gipsy Lane in Norwich. Steve was the son of UK folk singer Derek Brimstone - and the house was rented of Gyp Mills (Gipsy Dave) Donovan's friend and road manager - a songwriter and artist in his own right. Gipsy Dave has confirmed he owned the house (someone from Gipsy Lane checked it it out while doing a history of the Lane). I do remember there was a table in the front room with Donovan Leitch written in marker pen underneath and a range of stringed instruments in the shed mandolins, mandolas, etc.
If that wasn't enough inspiration to write a couple of songs while I was there - well then Derek Brimstone had an album out - Very Good Time that was on the record player often - my favourite song was Mrs Fisher - linked here. My father was from Great Yarmouth so it was also an opportunity to visit my grandparents and uncle.
Cottage in the Country was written in the first half of the week - still in August and Steve and Lyndie were talking about going off grid - getting a cottage in the country and being self-sufficient. I tried to imagine that in the song - they never did of course - but the 'dream' is preserved in the song. My finger picking style was taught to me by Steve and Lyndie when I started learning back in Coventry.
The second on here has a separate post but is in second place in the video. They had recently had a child - Song for Sam was the second song written that week in Gipsy Lane.
Below is Derek Brimstone's song and poem Mrs Fisher - check it out.
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