The Decemberists - Eli, The Barrowboy from Picaresque (2005) /folkpop/
((“They laid his body down in a curchyardbut still when the moon is out, with his pushcartHe calls down the day.Would I could afford to buy my love a fine gown -made of gold and silk Arabian thread.But I am dead and gone and lying in a church ground,and still I push my barrow all the day”
The wheel rocks back and forth straight over ruts of dirty skidded gravel. Spade handle coarse grained under calloused palms. He moves with a heavy and floating rounded saunter, works with tentative intensity. The welcome hiss as loose dirt slides off of metal and settles in the open. The smooth air carries with it the prickle of dust and longing and memories. It weaves through his limbs as the dusk turns to night and back again.))

This entry was posted on Monday, December 20th, 2004 at 12:00 am and is filed under song of the day. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.