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lyrics
As the day dragged on, Jamwine found himself quite fatigued. A Hamfiddle without their breakfast is about as cranky of a Hobbit as you’ll see, and now it was pushing well past lunchtime. A swarm of dun flies began buzzing about his head, and as he trudged on, the swarm seemed to thicken in the air. Flies usually meant a frog pond was nearby.
“Maybe I am nearing Frogmorton”, Jamwine huffed.
While busily swatting flies, our adventurer failed to notice a gnarled root that jut from the dirt, causing him to plummet hard to the ground. From his untied satchel a wax paper parcel rolled out and away, down the path.
“Scone!” Jamwine shouted, only now remembering he had packed away a bit of tart and a leftover scone whilst leaving the pub. Quickly, he slid down the path, rolling into the edge of a wildflower meadow. Out of the high brush, it was now obvious that the day was coming to a close. Jamwine sat on a stump, savoring his small morsel of a meal. It was time to set up camp.
Jamwine stuffed a bit of leafy powder into his empty pipe. A large plume of grey smoke erupted in a crackle. As his eyes wandered on across the wildflowers, he began to call to mind the field near his home as a child.
supported by 376 fans who also own “An Apple Tart Between Seed Cake and Buttered Scone”
I met Fogweaver through Vedurnan and, later, Magelight. This more energetic take on their music is wonderful and exciting, a compelling twist bearing their unique signature. emanuele127
supported by 329 fans who also own “An Apple Tart Between Seed Cake and Buttered Scone”
If nostalgia for an age where creatures of myth walked together with the children of men had a soundtrack, this album would be it. Also, a touching reminder that we can forego wealth and power for wilderness and freedom, if we so choose. emanuele127