Biography of Lucy Burrow
Born to British Parents working in Nigeria, the family moved back to UK when I was only 6 weeks old. Have written poetry for as long as I could hold a pen and songs for about 8 years. I am into traditional music and song, am a member of Cornwall songwriters, play the celtic harp, violin, tenor banjo, penny and low d whistle and the irish drum, the bodhran. I am married with 2 daughters aged 24 and 20. We live in North Cornwall and have a dog named Dobby and 2 cats, Neville and Luna.I write because I love to write, I hope you enjoy..... I welcome your comments, kind or unkind and understand that different people have different tastes and that my taste may not always be yours..........Oh the beauty of diversity!
Lucy Burrow's Works:
some of my songs and poems appear in the book of the show 'Unsung Heroes' by The Cornwall Songwriters ISBN: 1 903963 17 6 published by Lyngham House. There is also a CD available of the show.
There is also a book of the show Cornish Lads, featuring some of my songs and a CD of this show. I also have a CD of self penned songs called 'Autumning' all published by Lyngham House.
Lucy Burrow Poems
When Summers blue sky fades to grey And swiftly ends the shortening day, When coldness takes the flowers away Ill dance the dance of winter!
The Call Of Duty
Bravest men we hailed them then England sent her finest men The war to end all wars to fight A cause each one believed was right
Voice In The Wilderness
'Voice of a Wildebeast? ' she said...... She sort of spat it out Mockingly Her lined brow furrowed
I’m the tree on the battlefield – a pitiful sight I watch as the bullets fly to left and to right I’m the tree that’s watched blood flow from every man’s heart I’m the tree on the battlefield, half blown apart.
On A May Evening
Daylight's twinkling eye now firmly shuts And busy bird's nestmaking labours still. Now all the land takes diff'rent hues of night And hungry owl-call tones are heard to shrill;
Summer is coming I hear the wind whisper Tales of new seasons now waltz in the breeze Daffodils dancing and bluebells are waking And new leaves are sprigging on every tree
The Earth Mother
Mother Earth she tends and keeps me on the path that’s right and true Sends me blossoms soft as satin painted each and ev’ry hue Tall Oaks and Ash and Willow, Elders, Chestnut and the Thorn These, my brothers and my sisters - and I’ve seen each one being born!
All Is Quiet On The Western Front
The birds that sang to bring forth the day Have spread their wings and swiftly flown away... And the sun that rose to greet the dawn Brought the sight of something really quite forlorn.
In Praise Of Ale!
The brewers of this nation nare renowned for their fine ales They brew them up in Scotland, Ireland, England - and in Wales There are Manx brews and Scilly brews and brews from far Cornwall My delight's the supping of each one, to find the best of all
Mothers Prayer Against The Bullies
She leaves For another day of Sharpened claws, Twisted by opinion,
A cloud streaked sky of azure blue Canopies the dampened ground Where Autumnal leaves of every hue Are windswept piles the children found
Some in Khaki, Standing proud Line upon line in village and town They straight-back march past watching crowd To remember.
Home Of My Heart
Oh fair land of Arthur, of unsurpassed beauty,
Come Join The Circle
As day was beginning, I mused at your being As dawn's early mist rolled the darkness away..... Within you, young lambs and black rooks and a robin, Within me a voice seemed to call me to play.
I’m the tree on the battlefield – a pitiful sight
I watch as the bullets fly to left and to right
I’m the tree that’s watched blood flow from every man’s heart
I’m the tree on the battlefield, half blown apart.
It’s many the year I’ve stood firm in this soil
Where centuries farmers, long time they did toil
There used to be ten of us handsome and tall
And I’ve stood and I’ve wept as each brother did fall