Drifting like a spark upon the breeze

The fire of your beauty has brought me to my knees

Touch me with your wedding ring

I gave you photos of the day

You gave me words to sing

I’ve turned my back on everything I’ve known

The only thing I sure of, is that it’s time to go.

Now I’m calling all the angels

Make straight the path in front of me

I don’t need to know what might have been

I’m ready for the journey

Place the burden on my back

And keep my feet from turning back.

Falling like the moon upon the lake

I’m waiting for that boat to pass,

untroubled by its wake.

One day in early May,

I held my hands up to the sky

And watched you fly away

I’m in orbit round a sun that I can’t see

Won’t you come down from Heaven

And come and rescue me

Now I’m calling all the angels

Make straight the path in front of me

I don’t need to know what might have been

I’m ready for the journey

Place the burden on my back

And keep my feet from turning back.

Now all my boats are setting sail

on the river to eternity

beyond the cosmic veil

I sing the river flowing through me

the solar wind will catch my sail

and carry me out to sea

I hear the song upon you lips

I am the tide that floats all ships

Now I’m calling all the angels

Make straight the path in front of me

I don’t need to know what might have been

I’m ready for the journey

Place the burden on my back

And keep my feet from turning back.

Look up, what do you see?

The milky way running like a river across the sky.

Look down, what do you see?

Flickering starlight reflected on the waves of the river.

A highway to magic.

A stairway to the stars.

Where gods come down and we go up

where hopes rise and sadness falls.

Where all of life flows out into the street and down to the mighty river

over the horizon, over the horizon.

over the horizon, over the horizon.

See how the rising tide carries us further out towards the sea

loosening the bonds with all that we have known.

We cannot tell where the winds might blow

but we can trim our sails, so HOLD ON

over the horizon, over the horizon.

over the horizon, over the horizon.

And when the night has fallen in on you

when the wind spins you around

when you cannot find the course that you were on

and the ship is going down, HOLD ON

over the horizon, over the horizon.

over the horizon, over the horizon.

And the waves are crashing on the deck

and you think that you might drown

and everything you touch makes your timbers shiver,

find a star in the river and HOLD ON

over the horizon, over the horizon.

over the horizon, over the horizon.

Because somewhere inside you is a rain-cloud

dark and hard to bare

but if you open one eye long enough

you will see a rain drop there and HOLD ON

over the horizon, over the horizon.

over the horizon, over the horizon.

Let that raindrop fall, let it go, set it free

let it join every other raindrop on the street

and it will find its way to the river

and call you on and on, and HOLD ON, HOLD ON

And the tide will carry you

and you will trim your sails

and the sacred river will swell at your back

and carry you to the sea, HOLD ON

over the horizon, over the horizon.

over the horizon, over the horizon.

I am the rising tide that floats all ships

I am the rising tide that floats all ships

Look up, what do you see?

The milky way running like a river across the sky.

Look down, what do you see?

Flickering starlight reflected on the waves of the river.

A highway to magic.

A stairway to the stars.

Where gods come down and we go up

where hope rises and sadness falls.

Where all of life flows out into the street and down to the mighty river

so HOLD ON, HOLD ON

I am the rising tide that floats all ships.

I am the rising tide that floats all ships.

the sun rises in the east

and sets in the west

the river rises in the west

and makes it sacred procession to the east

flash full of everything

all of creation

rising and falling on its waves

glinting in its reflection

a dragon eating its own tail.

Down to the river

pretty maids all in a row

throw my cock in the river

make the fishes grow.

Down Kidney Road

to Liverpool Street

from the dome of St. Paul’s

to the soles of my feet.

there was a voice at my window

from the street below

remember me

remember me

I woke from my slumber, follow

follow, follow me.

heading down to the sacred river

heading down to the eternal river

where time stands still

and memories swim by

going down to the sacred river.

the river flows through our hearts and souls

coming and going

Isis sleeps

Osiris dreams

and the future king and queen try on

the costumes of romance to see if they fit.

And the Thames floods it’s banks tonight

and drowns my dreams

Isis dreams

Osiris buried

the hull of the boat rocks in the deep

and drags it anchor

along the bed

Osiris’s head

and Osiris sleeps in his coffin, cut to pieces

cast to the four winds

the five continents

the seven seas

Cast his cock into the river

cast his cock into the river

cast his cock into the river

make the fishes strong.

So the crops on the river bank became strong

and fed her starving heart.

Come on down to the river

come on down to the river

the land was without a king, fallow and wasted

the dust rose in the air.

Come on down to the river

come on down to the river

the roads did not know which way to go

the springs did not know which way to flow.

the sun rises in the east

and sets in the west

the river rises in the west

and makes it sacred procession to the east

flash full of everything

all of creation

rising and falling on its waves

glinting in its reflection

a dragon eating its own tail.

The clouds blow in from the east

and the population all bow their heads

now the enemy’s here

and we call it fear

painting over the living and the dead

and the clouds roll in from the east

and the slouching smiling beast sits down

and in the stagnant backwater

fear stalked the shadows

not doing what it said

spending all day in bed

between Aldwych and All Hallows

and the clouds roll in from the east

and the slouching smiling beast sits down

The springs did not know which way to flow

But the sacred river grew strong

in a world where right was wrong

and rust swallowed machines

and you cannot know what I mean

because language has become obscene

and people huddle in their dreams

agreeing that four words are all they need

to say everything they mean

and on the bank of the river I scream

a thousand word curse and then dive in

and am never seen again

and the sacred river murmurs

every word of every man

in every language from every land

all talking at once

and you can understand

all singing at once

and you can understand

and the river of words

is the coming flood

the tidal pulse

clinching in the loins of the city

fed by the floods of the rain

every word ever spoken

swelling in the spring at Oxford

throbbing in the swell at Runnymede

spreading in the flood of London

every word ever spoken

bursting in your mouth

every word yet to come

every word yet to come

every word yet to come

yet to come

to come

come.

and the torso of an African boy

witchcraft and sacrifice

drowned babies in the mud

the river turned to mud

skin crawling with maggots and lice

and the clouds roll in from the east

and the slouching smiling beast sits down

and the boiling sky erupts in the east

and threw spears down on London Town

and the whores all hid

the dark deeds they did

to earn their new gown

and the clouds roll in from the east

and the slouching smiling beast sits down

and I will blame you

for the dread in my soul

from the Tyburn jig

to the ducking stool

suspended in darkness over a hole

and the clouds roll in from the east

and the slouching smiling beast sits down

schoolaroo

wind in the waves

hrush

bullrush

shoonaroonaraah

lip and suck

big fish

rich feed

fish feed

port suck

kiss food

good rush

hush suck

kiss fuck

lap rush

kiss rap

all the life of Osiris

coming ashore

all the life of Osiris

foaming rush and gush and glut.

The sacred river rolls on

sweeping all before it

on a current towards the ocean

you can’t go back

you can’t go back

the current knows more that you do

surrender to the current

you can’t go back

you can’t go back

William Blake and Tom Paine swim in this river

roll on

roll on

roll on

roll on

there’s a poet on the loose

lock up your wives

he will tell her all the things she has always longed to hear

and you never thought to say.

He will turn her head

he will turn her head around

kiss kiss.

I dreamed they built a bridge across the River Thames

From the marshes of Lambeth to the Abbey at the other end

And all the city was united and a new era was dawning

And the city like a garment wore the beauty of the morning.

And the bridge between you and me

sank in the mud and washed out to sea

the reason for the collapse is not clear

not so much a bridge as a disappointed pier.

Lambeth Marshes to Thorney Island

Lambeth Marshes to Thorney Island

And there were fears that London would drain the countryside

Of all its meat and its grain and slice the country open wide

The speed of communication would double overnight

and people would not cope with new sounds and new sites

And on that side there are criminals who will steal your purse

And with the stroke of a pen, they could do so much worse.

St. Peter rode the lightning down to the shore

And called out to Endricus gather up your oars

I need to cross the flood from the mud where I stand

To reach the church on Thorney Island

Endricus was a fisherman and he’d never seen a saint before

And when St. Peter lit up the church he fell on his knees in awe

the angels sung around him and shone a ladder into the sky

he kneeled in his boat and prepared to die.

Peter said go tell the bishop what has been done

No need for consecration when you’ve got fishermen.

As a blessing you’ll never go hungry again

and he landed a draught of salmon from the Thames.

And the movement from your smile to your hand

Will build a bridge from Lambeth Marshes to Thorney Island

And no one will understand

What passes from Lambeth Marshes to Thorney Island

And a pale knight crossed the river and found there

A witch of his own divining, snowy skin and greying hair

And she lifted her head and she opened her mouth

And the knight regretted ever travelling south

For he knew that he was captured his heart forever hers

the marshes of Lambeth sucked his soul from his spurs

But this mighty heart was stilled until he unsheathed his sword

And brought it down on her and killed what he adored.

Free to fall and free to stagger back into the light

He cast the sword and cast the dagger into the night

And the mists began to shimmer and glitter filled the air

And that mighty heart started beating out despair.

And the movement from your smile to your hand

Will build a bridge from Lambeth Marshes to Thorney Island

And no one will understand

What passes from Lambeth Marshes to Thorney Island

And when I sit on the embankment and watch the Thames

I sometimes see the knight passing into other realms

visiting Westminster with destruction in his wake

and free us from the terrible decisions that they make

I wait for your ghost and the wounds you hold inside

No matter how many bridges you build you can’t always get to the other side

even if we never end up as friends

I’m in some kind of heaven as I head on down the Thames.

And we all build our bridges out of dreams

In spite of the ghosts and the hardships that we see

the dreams that don’t come true and the tears that we cried

The Thames will wash away in the tide

and it says, or so it seems, let’s have some more dreams

So I take this old guitar string and tie it to Big Ben

Climb up to the moon and do it all again.

Doug Bearne – National Rock Review

“Pagan Harvest delivered a superb album in their debut work. The story-telling over intricate soundscapes will captivate audiences, keeping them hooked from start to finish.”

Angel Romero – Progressive Rock Central

“Pagan Harvest enthusiastically explore the intersections of English folk music and progressive rock.”

Dave Pegg (Fairport Convention/Jethro Tull)

“Really good and love the bass. Clever stuff!”

Oz Hardwick – RnR

“Freed from the strictures of percussion, Steve Daymond's bass gamely flirts with melodies. Lawrence Reed multitracks guitars, keyboards and orchestral arrangements more.. and Jon Bickley makes the most of lyrics.

If this had been released in 1973, copies would now fetch hundreds from acid-folk obsessives.”

Jerry Ewing - Editor Prog Magazine

A band rising 'out of the English pastoral tradition,' Pagan Harvest's members lend their respective styles - classical, folk and prog - to the band's inventive greater whole. The result is polarising, but you have to applaud their desire to deliver something so leftfield.

Grant Moon - Prog Magazine

Lest we forget, the wonderful Big Big Train don’t have the monopoly on English history! Back in 2015, Bristol’s Pagan Harvest gave us a promising eponymous debut with a profound Anglo aesthetic, and the follow-up shows they’ve only grown in confidence and ability. Sacred River draws on the rich banks of lore around the River Thames, and it’s a thoughtful album that’s dramatic, atmospheric and deftly performed. Jon Bickley’s engaging blend of spoken-word and dour melody is set to fascinating, folk-inspired arrangements from Lawrence Reed. Steve Daymond’s bass work is eccentric and well judged, and with added depth from co-vocalist Debbie Hill, this is interesting, clear-eyed prog from a band who deserve to reap what they’ve sown.

Colin Bailey - RnR

A dystopian vision of London seems to be the running theme in this record by the English prog-folk trio. The fantastic scenes imagined, it turns out on further research, are inspired by 'the myths and legends of the River Thames': 'the sacred river grew strong in a world where right was wrong and rust swallowed machines' ('The Beast Sits Down').

Andrew Manning - Midlands Rocks

There have been a really healthy number of new progressive bands formed in the UK during the last few years and Pagan Harvest can be added to this list. As with many artists in this genre they pull together a myriad of musical styles taking the listener off in different directions from folk to dark progressive moments all the way through to the underlying classical influences. The origins of the band stretches back over 40 years when the three members met at school in Watford. Since that time they have each followed a range of diverse musical journeys and it is only in recent years that their paths crossed again and they formed Pagan Harvest.

Simply put the band fall into crossover progressive territory and in essence they produce what is quintessentially traditional English heritage music with the new album Sacred River being their second release. Delve beneath the surface of the lyrical content and you get a portrait of the myths and legends of the River Thames. ‘Calling All The Angels’ will appeal to fans of Big Big Train and kicks things off in style. It is very English and very prog, with the opening keyboard arrangements portraying refreshing soundscapes (please note the video available on You Tube is the shorter single version). The main vocals come courtesy of folksinger, songwriter and poet Jon Bickley with his gritty deep toned voice being complemented on the track with backing vocals from guest vocalist Debbie Hill. This is a low tempo piece creating a highly atmospheric song. ‘Over The Horizon’ has a medieval folk inspired underbelly with its pastoral sound generated by some delicate acoustic guitars and orchestral arrangements. The track is melded together with the pulsing bass playing of Steve Daymond who delivers an even and constant beat. Flowing water in keeping with the album theme introduces ‘Isis And Osiris’ with keyboards throughout mimicking the sounds of the river.

‘The Beast Sits Down’ allows the talents of multi-instrumentalist Lawrence Reed to stretch out in various directions. His classical training enables the track to meander from renaissance style segments to rhythmic melodies offering a range of styles that adapts well to the spirit of the song. The doomy ‘Schoolaroo’ has an almost haunting feel to it with the chilling sounds creating an eerie image of the River Thames back in the dark ages. Bickley is using his poetry skills here to paint a picture of the river rolling on and on. The instrumental ‘Gigue’ would sit well in medieval times with its Blackmore’s Night type renaissance dancing overtones. You can just picture the gentry being serenaded by this in days gone by.

The standout track on the album tells the story of ‘Thorney Island’. A 12-minute opus which engages the mind and is a complex offering which requires repeated listens to fully comprehend the array of instruments contained within and it ends with the shimmering sound of church bells. ‘Chant’ brings things to a conclusion with its choral style vocals.

The songs throughout this release are varied and certainly unique. So if you fancy a hybrid of dark folk, classical and progressive rock then it will be well worth entering the world of Pagan Harvest.