Artist picture
Warren Jackson Hearne on guitar and vocals, Claire Hecko on violin, James Spangler on banjo and mandolin, Mike McConnell on concertina, melodica, vocals, and up
...the same certain quality of agelessness that comes from a group of extremely talented musicians who found alcoholism early in life.... ...Warren Jackson Hearne and the Merrie Murdre of Gloomadeers are hands-down the best conduit for gothic faerietales this side of Mars... ...The show started off with Mike in a full-faced mask belting out a long “poem” that would have made Lenny Bruce blush... ...fun and merrymaking was what he (Warren) and his gloomadeers were carrying onto the stage... ...Personally, I will never be the same after that show. Thanks for the haunting, mental imagery guys... -Various Press
Song Info
Genre
Acoustic • Acoustic Folk
Charts
Peak #109
Peak in subgenre #11
Author
Warren Jackson Hearne
Rights
Moss and Eli Music
Uploaded
December 07, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.3 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
The Bather of Rimy Springs I watched my lady pull off clothes by the shore I watched as she pulled down her hair I watched as she turned and to my eyes And met with one final stare She dived to the pond with only a splash The pond swallowed her masterful frame And when after time did not spit her back out I left the scene to which I came Since then the water has turned cold And there comes not a bather to soak I’ve heard she comes to men who visit the pond They say that then she rises from the deep Those old wives warn every man that they meet She puts men to eternal sleep More frigid than the wintry lake where she lives She’s more lovely than sun to a tree She’s now called The Bather of Rimy Springs She was renamed by the sorrow that trapped her ‘neath But many old wives tell outrageous tales And many a man still follow Rimy Springs trail Many a man has been tempted to swim In the wintry waters therein Where my lover will rise and beacon them in To embrace them with pallid bare limbs She kisses them lightly as they take off their clothes She warms though she is cold to touch She pulls them into a watery grave Never a man wanted out of her clutch Then she waits for the next man to stroll by To give them their last gasping sigh I visit not my love down Rimy Springs Lost is the mind whom I’ve loved and cared I listen to stories of husbands and sons Who didn’t come home after journeying there No I don’t visit the pond where my lover resides I’m afraid I would end on a soft muddy bed I’ve no hope that she’d remember her lover ago And the body before her, her love once fed But when I’m old and tired with wrinkled face I’ll return for one final embrace They say that she comes to men from under the water They say that then she rises from the deep Old wives and mothers warn their children She puts men to eternal sleep
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