A Different Thread - "The Blackest Crow"

This parting song tells the tale of two lovers, faced with the heartrending burden of saying goodbye, and promising to love each other 'til death. The song is likely to have come from Scotland or England, with records dated as far back as 1906*. Many different versions now exist on both sides of the Atlantic and it has become a firm favourite in the Appalachian folk scene. Like many European songs, The Blackest Crow has been enriched by the crossing of cultures in America and it's lyrics remain deeply relatable, poignant, and emotional. We filmed this video in Long Island City, New York, before embarking on a long voyage of our own. 'The Blackest Crow' features on the new Ep 'Some Distant Shore'. https://adifferentthread.bandcamp.com... Camera work by Laura Barker and editing by Lalo Dominguez. Audio recorded at Alma Vale Studio, Bristol, England Produced by A Different Thread and Luke Cawthra Engineered and mixed by Luke Cawthra Mastered by Pete Maher at Topfloor Mastering Robert Jackson: vocals, guitar, harmonica Alicia Best: vocals, fiddle *Source: https://www.fresnostate.edu/folklore/... Lyrics: The time draws near My dearest dear For you and I to part What little you know Of the pain and woe In my poor aching heart In my poor aching heart, my love Believe me when I say I wish that I could go with you Or wish that you could stay The blackest crow that ever few Would surely turn to white If ever I prove false to you Bright day would turn to night Bright day would turn to night, my love The elements would mourn If ever I prove false to you The seas would rage and burn I wish my heart was made of glass Wherein it you’d behold Upon a note Your name it wrote In letters made of gold In letters made of gold, my love Believe me when I say You are the one That I’ll adore ‘Till my own dying day When you’re bound for Some distant shore Think of your absent friend And when the wind Blows high and clear A line to me pray send A line to me pray send, my love If it be just a word From you to me Across the sea By bottle or by bird The blackest crow that ever flew Would surely turn to white