Demo version of a song that started to take shape while we were house-hunting in Kernow. Not that Show of Hands have anything to fear from me in terms of West-Country-oriented songs. But we were actually taking time out around Helford, and couldn’t resist walking over to Frenchman’s Creek. To be honest, though, it’s no more about that than it is about Ithaca.
A better version may follow.
Words and music copyright David Harley, 2015.
In spring a young man’s fancy is supposed to turn to love
An older man takes time to reminisce
He takes the path from Helford on a sunny afternoon
Searching once again for Frenchman’s Creek
Too soon for love-lies-bleeding, too late for love’s young dream
The sun plays peek-a-boo among the trees
By the gate at Kestle Barton, he stops to rest a while
Before following the signs to Frenchman’s Creek
Sometimes we lose our bearings, our love lost in a mist
We glimpse our Ithaca but doubt laps at our feet
Sweet 16 to 70, too many times been kissed
Was that the road to Manderley or Frenchman’s Creek?
Left high and dry so often by the tides of desire
Yet in autumn days a heart may rise from sleep
And still recall with thanks the times love wasn’t such a liar
And the tide may turn again in Frenchman’s Creek