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For King and Country

by The Stanfields

I used to dream in color and I wished away the days Waiting on the slightest chance that I would get to play A guilded harp, a silver horn with a bonny tune to sing A place inside a golden hall to prance around the king When I was young I wished to be Up to my neck in a fantasy Why did I sign on that bloody dotted line? Let the devils hold it over me Is it a crime to live when you cannot afford the means? Is it a crime to walk the earth like ravenous machines? Is there a way to bridge a gap across a great divide? Is it a secret thrill to know the gods are on your side? When I was young I wished to be A landed man with a back forty Why did I sign on that bloody dotted line? Let the devils hold it over me The smoke still clouds my wits The stink still fills my pores From the night they kicked down the door The blood still stains my lips The grief still chafes my soul My pride was raked through the coals Yonder prison walls They own my flesh and bones But my thoughts are mine alone
I’m what you’d call a bettin’ man And I live from pay to pay I’m a high card stud of mongrel blood And a zero on the day Well I’m no sage nor soothsayer nor arbiter of truth I’m high on risk and low on temper And long in the tooth I’m wide awake on the losing end of it Better check my pride and take it on the chin With a Whistle and a Grin With a Whistle and a Grin A buxom belle with a surefire tell Was barking up my tree I couldn’t take her money She was making eyes at me Oh so fine with a low neck line Reckless fast and loose She giggled as she drew me in And tightened up the noose I used the brain between my legs Threw in the kitchen sink That painted up bamboozler left me staring in my drink To plumb the depths inside my head but I can't seem to find The morale of the story or a little piece of mind Just a little piece of mind.
Once upon a time my existence Was defined by ambition and trade Now it’s gone just like this The remnants of the exodus At a loss, all alone and afraid The fire has left me long ago Once I was bristlin and brave Now I’m destined to wither On an errand of fools And to lie in a mariners grave I was worn with the stress And the weight of progress In the foremost uncertain of days Comatose, dark & still Have the means but lost the will To take the fight to imposing ways Once I was branded in gold Now I’m abandoned and sold Servant, sentinel and slave Doomed to lie in a mariners grave Once I was a summer domain Now only winter remains Drawn, quartered and flayed Doomed to lie in a mariners grave
Hard Miles 03:04
Steady as she goes on a western run You turned your back to the rising sun You just fuelled up, the weather looks good And the game is on May the lines no longer pass you by Hard miles, Taking you from your prize Hard miles You're bouncing around like a loose pinball You’re thinking too much about nothing at all You miss your bed and you miss your girl And you’re a'ways from home Mr. Man, your day is done You strained your eyes on the setting sun But you count your blessings And look forward to another night alone
Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you Never gonna make you cry Never gonna say goodbye Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Well I got my welding tickets Set out on the road To a place I never heard of About two years ago I wonder what they’re doing Back home in Sunnybrae? I’m in Vermilion River They’re a million miles away What would they say if I went back empty handed? They won’t know who I am for all I know But I know they'd compare me to my brothers And laugh behind my back if I went home I tried my hand at farming and on the oil fields Hell I’ve done my share of drinking to forget about how I feel Once there was a lady, she set my heart in flames I’m in Vermilion River, she’s a million miles away What would she say if I went back empty handed? She has another man for all I know But I know, she’d compare me to her lovers And pretend we never met if I went home Before I go I have to make a confession Between me, you, Jesus and the wall I burnt down a house, and no one knows about it So now Vermilion River is my home
My wish is my command I demand the things I see I don’t know where they come from But they are next to free I have what I have Cause I have the right to have it To hell with all the consequences I don’t need to see Thank god I live in a free country I don’t think much of strangers Much of you or of your kind You best fit in or you're free to find A better place to be I say what I say Cause I have the right to say it To hell with all the differences It’s all greek to me Thank god I live in a free country It’s great to live in a wonderland Where no one needs a helping hand An arms length from a trusted brand And sheltered from the world The world’s turned to a scary place For the top end of the human race Oh plastic god in outer space Wrap me in your warm embrace We’re winning wars and losing face But half the fun is in the chase And the bleeding hearts are wasting precious time on bold face lies I don’t care about the noise I don’t care about the numbers This wonderland is mine to run and I’ll do what I please I do what I do, cause I have the right to do it To strip from post to pillar from the mountains to the sea Thank god I live in a free country
He spends all his weeks in the bread line He spends all his weekends in jail He spends all his money on dead ends And always has something for sale He doesn’t know how to do different. He lives with his head in the sand Playing his role Stuck on the dole The son of a landless man No one never called him ambitious He never pretended to be He bummed around the pool halls to kill time When he dropped out of school at sixteen It was there that he met his ex-wife It should have ended before it began She batted her eye lids and had a few kids With the son of a landless man The wife and the kids are gone now He don’t have a clue where they are As one night he pulled out a rifle In an argument he took too far Now someone says he cant see them It’ll be a long time before he can His three little girls, all giggles and curls and the son of a landless man. Another son of a landless man
I still feel the wind blowing on Dunvegan shores I still taste the brine in the air High upon a hill Far away from the lights of town Well I’m going up the mountain And I’m never coming down I can barely remember the nights full of whiskey, cheer and song We were messing up the words to Shady Grove Cutting through the still Far away from the lights of town Well I’m going up the mountain And I’m never coming down Oh I wish that I could get away From these foreign fields I roam There’s a colour in the sky today It’s reminding me of home Up the mountain I can still feel the wind blowing on Dunvegan shores I miss an easy life without a care High upon a hill Far away from the lights of town Well I’m going up the mountain And I’m never coming down
T'is the loathsome right of lions and lords To visit their might upon lambs Oh butcher and beast, tyrant and cabal I am a lion no longer For empire and flag, for captain and king I offered no quarter nor mercy Spurred by the rage of a thousand vengeful gods And blinded by men of ambition Such industry is violence and war! And how the ends are not all they claim Righteous crusades bear bullion and control And garnish the blood of a nation So beware the promise of exotic frontiers Where the battle of nowhere is waged Where patriot sons are put to the sword And lost in the strains of an anthem


The product of seven days spent in a cottage on the shores of Nova Scotia's Chedabucto Bay. No phones, no internet. Just music, wine, and sketches of a vision.


released October 15, 2013

Jon Landry - Vocals, Guitar, Harmonica, Pump Organ
Craig Eugene Harris - Mandolin, Backing Vocals
Jason Wright - Bouzouki, Backing Vocals
Jason McIsaac - Guitar, Backing Vocals
Mark Murphy - Percussion

featuring Ria Mae - vocals "A Free Country"

Recorded in Port Shoreham, Nova Scotia on January 1-5, 2013
Engineered by Jerod Currie
Mixed by Charles Austin at The Echo Chamber Halifax, Nova Scotia
Mastered by J. LaPointe at Archive Mastering, Minesville, Nova Scotia
Graphic Design by Craig Eugene Harris
Produced by The Stanfields
Executive Producer: Ian McKinnon, GroundSwell Music

This album is dedicated to the memory of Paul Gourlie and Jay Smith


all rights reserved



The Stanfields Halifax, Nova Scotia

The Stanfields are a Canadian rock music group, based in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

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