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Potter's Field

from Gathering Clouds by Spence's Rye

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lyrics

In the city of the dead, where numbered stones stand over their heads. There sleep the ones the world had shunned, because the courts said they'd done wrong.

Now the jury might have been at fault in placing them in this prison vault, and the judge could have more lenient been, for to be accused is not a sin.

Now the court decreed that they must go, and thus told the lawman so. Sons of Adam now gather round, take a walk over the burial ground.

Where sleep the brothers of your race, view the last sad resting place. Of the one that died in a felons cell, no pen of man can ever tell.

Of the suffering endured, or the sad farewell in the potters field and all alone. Under numbers cut in tall white stone, may they sleep in peace as time rolls on.

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from Gathering Clouds, released April 14, 2013

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Spence's Rye West Virginia

Better living through music! Spence's Rye pays homage to the mountain music of Appalachia. The music is a haunting amalgam of various oldtime styles, enthusiastic playing, and select original tunes. From traditional to tin-pan alley,  Spence's Rye takes traditional Appalachian back to its roots in lonesome, solitary performance. ... more

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