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Isembard's Wheel



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Isembard's Wheel

Gloucester Gaol

Well, there were born two red-clay sons,
of deep, enchanted Autumn,
soon they grew and surely knew,
they heard their fortune calling.
Ten long years on labour's leash,
brought them only sorrow,
so on the eve of 1836,
they wagered 'gainst tomorrow:

They'd fetch their pistols, gleaming blades,
their father's horses, dappled grey,
the gentry they would fear the day,
these brothers came a-ridin'.
And one night on moonlit moor,
by wild woods and sleeping tor,
they rode to even out the score,
these brothers went a-ridin'.

Hey, where's my home-hearth glowin'?
Hey, ride into the dawn.

Sure the stars were bold at evening,
storms blew in the West,
they rode each night and morning light,
was lit by conquest.
And nightly pistols sang the dusk,
stoked a people's pride,
and the gentry came to fear the name,
hailed far and wide.

Hey, where's my home-hearth glowin'?
Hey, ride into the dawn.

Then one night on fortune's mile,
a carriage of such pomp and style,
the magistrate's conceit and guile,
and morals, all forsaken.
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Sure the brothers robbed him blind,
but never took the wretch's life,
a garrison sought them that night,
and prisoners they became.

Hey, where's my home-hearth glowin'?
Hey, ride into the dawn.

Before you take my life away,
before I 'pon your gallows swing,
and before I for your gold must pay,
I'll take from you what's owed to me,
by blood and toil and poverty.

Well, the brothers, they were lead at dawn,
in the gallow's shadow,
the winds were still, the earth was cold,
the gentry dark and sallow,
and all around, without a sound,
they entertained no hope.
They couldn't mourn a final dawn,
so stepped up to the rope.

And in that cold September light,
a fierce fire burned in their eyes,
and the valley echoed to their cry,
clear as ringing gunshot:
'You usurers of bloody gold,
forever fear our people's roads,
Take our lives but damn your souls,
the Devil won't be bought!'.

Hey, where's my home-hearth glowin'?
Hey, ride into the dawn.