A song adapted from the poem Angel of the North by Jackie Gleeson originally written for St Mary's Church, Wallsend
pop
rock
acoustic
beatles
folk
acoustic pop
acoustic folk
chris ward
Story behind the song
It started as a simple strummed guitar riff to which I found myself singing 'I am the Angel of the North they say...' , evoking images of the contemporary sculpture designed by Antony Gormley, which is located in Gateshead, England.
Lyrics
I am the Angel of the North they say
With wings in the grey sky and my concrete feet in clay
Directing the heavy clouds body braced against the wind
Conducting the earthbound rain in which the angels sing
I am the angel for the travellers below
From romans to miners history called them to go
I can see Adam, Eve and all the prophets too
I see the priest, the priestess and demons deep in you
I am the Angel of the North I'm told
With a back bone of iron, and a steel ribbed heart of gold
I can hear people, multitudes of humanity
From the first to the last one and those who are yet to be
I am the Angel of the North they say
The bronze light above you to light you on your way
I can see Joseph, Mary, kings and shepherds too
I can see Jesus, Judas, lies, deception, truth
I am the Angel, my wings straight and strong
I am the Angel who can hear my windswept song?
I am the Angel guardian of all,
I am the Angel sentinel on call
Adapted From Original Poem As below
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What would Adam make of you pet, set
With feet in concrete, ribbed wings braced against wind.
I can see Eve, Moses and all the Apostles heads against sky, craning
stretched necks at the size of you, coppered, blazing in the sun.
We're tellin' them, all of us,
the ghosts beneath earthbound roots, picks still in hands,
bosses and salt skinned shipmen, women who wailed at the sea.
Tellin' Mary and all that lot in the stable,
Tellin' Judas and McCarthy,
Tellin' Kennedy and Shepherds on the old old hills
Tellin' them that we ain't done yet.
You're a messenger all right pet, I bet
Your voice of steel heralding a new milennium
starts such noise and singing in all of God's choirs, praising as
your head towers with the rest of you, chained, fearless in the rain.
We're yellin' at them, all of us,
The soot choked grandas, spines curved from crawling,
Lasses and leather skinned wives, kids who don't cry in a fight.
Yellin' that we're here and we're stronger
Yellin' futures and fortune,
Yellin' birth and don't forget us on the old old hills
Yellin' through the rain, soaking wet.
The Romans footfall echo on your ribs pet, let
History call to travellers, passing on the ancient road.
Can you feel Jesus, Ghandi and all of the Prophets, screaming
God voiced through the strength of you, challenging, shining in the dark.
They're sellin' the message, all of them.
The age old saints and the new born saviours,
Children and those not born, boys who run with forever.
Sellin' them the story of survival,
Sellin' faith and eternity
Sellin' diamonds of courage from the old old hills.
Sellin' all the truth they can get.
I'm glad you're an angel pet, yet
You're human, feet in the clay, head in clouds.
I can hear people, multitudes, all of humanity, coming
Toward the bronzed light of you, watching, lighting up the world.
I know, you're tellin' us, all of us
From the first to the last and to those still to come,
Warriors and sleeping peacemakers, lovers who cry at the dawn.
Tellin' two thousand years and just beginning
Tellin' love and forgiveness
Tellin' Jesus' wisdom from those old old hills
Tellin' peace that we all can get.