Rachel Unthank & The Winterset Whitethorn
Whitethorn, my children you hold, Whitethorn, cradle and grave, Headstone, berries in winter, Sorrow, your thorns from my blood.
I carried my love from the spring to the winter, I carried her 'til I heard her first cry I cradled her close against my warm bosom But, Annie died on the night she was born
Whitethorn, my children you hold, Whitethorn, cradle and grave, Headstone, berries in winter, Sorrow, your thorns from my blood.
So fertile are we under this dark sky Barren the fields, raped of their stock Pregnant the cure for all my ambition A condition it seems, more often than not
Whitethorn, my children you hold, Whitethorn, cradle and grave, Headstone, berries in winter, Sorrow, your thorns from my blood.
Each day brings less food to the table Each passing year with more mouths to feed Annie was spared the hunger of childhood Relief like cold water mixed with my grief
Whitethorn, my children you hold, Whitethorn, cradle and grave, Headstone, berries in winter, Sorrow, your thorns from my blood.
Whitethorn, bring me my children Whitethorn, to cradle at last Berries red are the bruises Whitethorn, the night will turn black
Whitethorn, my children you hold, Whitethorn, cradle and grave, Headstone, berries in winter, Sorrow, your thorns from my blood.