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The Basin Stone.

from The Basin Stone by Gareth Scott

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    Rough shod folk and songwriting from the Upper Calder Valley.
    Six years is a long time to record an Album. There was even some times that I thought this might be a posthumous release... but here it is. 'Enjoy' might not be the right word to commend it to you with - but THANKS! Thanks for taking a copy off my hands...

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about

The Basin Stone is above Todmorden, this place has some history. The Wesleyans and The Chartists preached here, The Chartist meetingson thes hills could 10-20 thousand strong. A crowd in 1842 marched from The Basin Stone to Halifax; they walked into the working mills they passed on the way through the Calder Valleyand pulled the out of the boilers that powered the machines. They implored the workers within to join them in 'The Plug Riots'. Maybe 40,000 of them laid seige to Halifaxin pursuit of their Standard of Freedom...

lyrics

Only the heather would flower, where the earth it is sour
But the rivers they all did turn
Like machines in our valleys and our cloughs
Under the moors you'd see all the black roots of trees
And it is evidence enough
Of why farm walls got left to crumble and to fall
How soon we were tied to the loom
A drone lost in the factory boom
Because the summers came slow
And the yields were poor
And the movement of men from the famine and wars
All in the wake these exiles..
Who were tied up in slavery to textile
Here in this England.

Because of the 'operative ease' of the Ginny machines
Well a mother and her child soon toiled
On the factory floor
And with 'operative ease' a new ritual of Thieves
Gave an eighty hour week
A two shillings and sixpence reward.
So there are twenty thousand on the moor
All to march against The Bill Of The Poor.
Seeds of Chartism sown up at the basin Stone
Had them pulling out the Plugs down in Todmorden.
All in the wake these exiles..
Who were tied up in slavery to textile
Here in this England.

They cried the time it will come when this Weavers band
Will hunger no more down here
In our own Fathers land
When the factory child will sleep on until day
And he smile as he dreams
Of his sports and of his friendships and his play
Until justice and love holds jubilee
We march until our Charter reigns free.
All against crushing up bones in a workhouse yard
Leaving a poor man and family to starve.
All in the wake these exiles..
Who were tied up in slavery to textile
Here in this England.

All summer long
Those Factories rolled on.
All wintertime long those factories rolled on
Through springtime long, those factories rolled on.

Once thes towns they rang with such a clatter and bang
But the looms they turn no more
Down here, in our valleys and or cloughs
And all the townships that thrived they're all gentrified
And mortgaged of away to serve of commuter community
Once the Mills they rolled all the nights in the hills
Theres just the gates left and a hardstanding
Because the ritual of thieves moved the labour on
To have them turning the loom in a foreign land
For the sub-poverty rates they can pay them
To tie them up in a bonded wage slavery
Where all overtime is mandatory
All on top of a ninety hour week.
And in conditions so wretched and poor they burn 112 Tazreen
Buried 1200 more in Savar.. burn 112 in Tazreen
With our ritual incentivising
Of the sweatshops there in China
Of the sweatshops there in Haiti
Its just a race to the bottom we see....

All summer long- those sweatshops roll on
All sumnmtertime long, those sweatshops roll on
All in a nine storey, Maquiliadora
Those sweatshops roll on....

credits

from The Basin Stone, released August 1, 2020
Steve Smith plays Bas and Harmonium, Roger Burnett plays Percussion, Andy Greaves plays Mandolin, John Bromley, Neil Kimber, Michael Beeke and Alice Jones sing. Gareth guitar and singing too..

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Gareth Scott Todmorden, UK

Rough shod folk and songwriting from the Upper Calder Valley.

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