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Loreena McKennitt
Loreena McKennitt


Background information
Born February 17, 1957
Born place Morden, Manitoba, Canada
Genre(s) Celtic
World music
New Age
Years active 1985—present
Label(s) Universal
Verve Records
Quinlan Road
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  L  →  Loreena McKennitt  →  Albums  →  The Visit

Loreena McKennitt Album


The Visit (04/14/1992)
04/14/1992
1.
2.
3.
Between the Shadows (Persian Shadows)
4.
5.
6.
Tango to Evora
7.
8.
9.
. . .


Music and Lyrics by Loreena McKennitt

Bonfire dot the rolling hillsides
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.

Somewhere in a hidden memory
Images float before my eyes
Of fragrant nights of straw and of bonfires
And dancing till the next sunrise.

Chorus
I can see the lights in the distance
Trembling in the dark cloak of night
Candles and lanterns are dancing, dancing
A waltz on All Souls Night.

Figures of cornstalks bend in the shadows
Held up tall as the flames leap high
The green knight holds the holly bush
To mark where the old year passes by.

Chorus

Bonfires dot the rolling hillsides
Figures dance around and around
To drums that pulse out echoes of darkness
Moving to the pagan sound.

Standing on the bridge that crosses
The river that goes out to the sea
The wind is full of a thousand voices
They pass by the bridge and me.

Chorus - 2x

. . .


Music and Lyrics Traditional

O Bonny Portmore I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.

O Bonny Portmore you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

All the Birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying "where shall we shelter or where shall we sleep?"
For the Oak and the Ash they all cutten down
And the walls of Bonny Portmore are all down to the ground.

O Bonny Portmore you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.

. . .

Between the Shadows

[No lyrics]

. . .


Music by Loreena McKennitt
Lyrics by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1843)

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And trho' the field the road run by

To many-towered Camelot;

And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,

The island of Shalott.


Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes disk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river

Flowing down to Camelot.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers

The Lady of Shalott

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the beared barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,

Down to tower'd Camelot;

And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listing, whispers "'tis the fairy

The Lady of Shalott."

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near

Winding down to Camelot;

And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The Knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,

The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and with lights

And music, went to Camelot;

Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am, half sick of shadow," she said,

The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves,

Of bold Sir Lancelot.

A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,

Beside remote Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

And from the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river

Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look'd down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried -- photo

The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining

Over tower'd Camelot; -- photo

Down she cam and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round the prow she wrote

The Lady of Shalott.

Down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance -
With a glassy countenance

She looked to Camelot.

And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and shown she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,

The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted slowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,

Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.

For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,

Silent into Camelot.

And out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And round the prow they read her name,

The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
They crossed themselves for fear,

The Knights at Camelot;

But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "she has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,

The Lady of Shalott

But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

. . .


Music Traditional
Lyrics by King Henry VIII

Alas my love you do me wrong
To cast me off discourteously;
And I have loved you oh so long
Delighting in your company.

Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.

I have been ready at your hand
To grant whatever thou would'st crave;
I have waged both life and land
Your love and goodwill for to have.

Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.

Thy petticoat of sendle white
With gold embroidered gorgeously;
Thy petticoat of silk and white
And these I bought thee gladly.

Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves my heart of gold
Greensleeves was my heart of joy
And who but my Lady Greensleeves.

. . .

Tango to Evora

[No lyrics]

. . .


Music and Lyrics by Loreena McKennitt

Wherein the deep night sky
The stars lie in its embrace
The courtyard still in its sleep
Peace comes over your face

"Come with me" it sings
"Hear the pulse of the land
The Ocean's rhythms pull
To hold your heart in its hand"

When the wind draws strong
Across the cypress trees
The Nightbirds cease their songs
So gathers memories

Last night you spoke of a dream
Where forests stretched to the east
And each bird sang its song
A Unicorn joined in a feast

And in a corner stood
A pomegranate tree
With wild flowers there
No mortal eye could see

Yet still some mystery befalls
Sure as the cock crows at morn
The world in stillness keeps
The secret babes to be born

"Come with me my love
Hear the pulse of the land
The Ocean's rhythms pull
To hold your heart in its hand"

I heard an old voice say
"Don't go far from the land
The seasons have their way
No mortal can understand"

. . .


Music and Lyrics by Loreena McKennitt

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.

On a dark new year's night
On the west coast of Clare
I hear your voice singing
Your eyes danced the song
Your hands played the tune
T'was a vision before me.

We left the music behind and the dance carried on
As we stole away to the seashore
We smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair

With sadness you paused.

Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go
Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time

And I wondered why.

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea
A vision came o'er me
Of thundering hooves and beating wings

In clouds above.

As you turned to go I heard you call my name.
You were like a bird in a cage, spreading its
Wings to fly
"The old ways are lost" you sang as you flew

And I wondered why.

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.

. . .


Music by Loreena McKennitt
Lyrics by William Shakespeare (c. 1609)

Fear no more the heat o' th' sun

Nor the furious winters' rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.

Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' th' great;

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke.

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak.

The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.

All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor th' all-dreaded thunder stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan.

All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come hear thee!

Quiet consummation have,
And renowned by thy grave!

. . .


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