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1.
Culp's Hill 04:27
Culp’s Hill I pressed two flowers in a bible Searched the fields for tokens I count the petals when I’m idle I’ve learned there’s value on the broken Became a student of the game And what I know I’ll teach no other Some around me have learned the same To turn a hand against a brother Now I’ll take Culp’s Hill Trade my Enfield for a blade and again… Turn my hand back to making hay I met a man in torn clothing Said he’d laid rail in West Virginia He feeds the horses in the morning Prays he’ll walk from Pennsylvania In the sky... I see, No bird in flight above the haunting fields Business of men and hell and wanting And the voice of them The devil steals. No god can help ya To canons heard in Philadelphia We’ll take Culp’s hill And I’ll trade my Enfield for a blade and again... Turn my hand back to making hay Lay me in a field A broken seal, a fair warning A sign of stone to mark the day Tell them how we’d greet the morning.
2.
Holding My Breath You and me, we’re both free to leave if it’s broken And by now after all who’s to blame Maybe me, that’s always been the same soft spoken Maybe you, that’s finally through, and gave up the game Look at me when I’m talking You haven’t heard a word from me in years So shut your mouth and turn around We’re gonna do this thing now No, no, I ain’t finished with you at all… You never knew when to just drop it And when it fell all the hell would rip through here And in my turn, I never learned the words that might stop it Until the years left lines across my face And now I know all these things are the things that I could never say Cause I’d been holding my breath and I guess It was easier that way But I can breathe when I want to I can wait you out however long For what’s left, that clings to my bones for the moment that... It’s grown old, cold enough to know to take its flesh And for the cost of a pound, I get to stumble around until I fall No, no, I ain’t finished with you at all Where’s my coat, my keys and my wallet? While I’m here, where’s the years you took from me? And where’s that person you promised? Are they gone? Long far away from this place Where’s they’re touch and they’re sound Is there anything now behind the wall There I go holding my breath to see if anything’s left in this at all.
3.
Watching Amy 03:16
Watching Amy Young woman why have you come? “My belly’s full and my weaving’s done. I need a break from my man and maybe my son.” Take this flower and wash the stem Sew the petals up into your hem And rest there a while like a priceless gem And dream of all you ever wanted to be If all I can lose is my mind …and all is better than this Might be better than this If all I can change is the time Then it’s all worth while for watching Amy Can you feel the rain on Monday Can it wake your heart or wash you away Old man with your burlap sack Containing the dreams you once had stacked High up and hard... now they lay on your back Well I heard you say there’s always pain To trade your dreams for what remains Or for a memory Of a soft exchange If all I can lose is my mind Then all is better than this Might be better than this If all I can change is the time Then it’s all worth while for watching Amy
4.
Show me the artist Show me the artist that can draw... out conclusions On wisdom and pages And has he got the knowledge to pass through all of these Gardens and tunnels and stages Tell him or her That I got something else to turn Besides a profit or a cheek or a back And I got something else to burn Besides my bridges or my passion Or my witches or my actions Besides my extraordinary fear of your reaction That’s fine, stay in line, lose time, that’s mine Man… you’re far too kind I know it hurts but it’s in the plan and I’m a fan so pay the man Look now Ma… no hands… Show me the artist that can draw out conclusions On wisdom and pages And has he got the knowledge to pass through all of these Gardens and tunnels and stages Tell him or her
5.
What To Say 03:23
What to say Trying the best, that I can with the things I have Do more with less, and I’m careful on what I spend Look at the mess that I’ve managed to get myself in All over again Cause I got the hang of it right off the bat again Got everything out of place and can’t get it back again And I don’t know, I don’t know what to say anymore No no… wrap me up and give a knock And leave me laying out by her door I did what you said. I organized everything Got numbers and names. Got columns, rows to put them in But look at the mess that I managed to get myself in All over again Cause I got the hang of it right off the bat again Got everything out of place and can’t get it back again And I don’t know, I don’t know what to say anymore No no… wrap me up and give a knock And leave me laying out by her door Trying not to do the things that don’t work no more Like when there’s nothing in something and thinking there’s something more But look at the mess that I’m in like I was before All over again Cause I got the hang of it right off the bat again Got everything out of place and can’t get it back again And I don’t know, I don’t know what to say anymore No no… wrap me up and give a knock And leave me laying out by her door
6.
Odds and ends I’ve written things, Thoughts threaded onto strings. I’ve pinned words, to fifths and thirds, Until barely heard… I need to cover things. But now and then, Your name comes up again. and I am lost to find a single thing to say, before the moment ends. And I see your face, And other things I tried to chase From my mind, that vine I prune… Part of you each year is back in place. Do you think I’m trying to sew some silver lining to the sky today? Well you’re wrong, it’s just a song I made, Just because I never stopped, Loving things I never got, Doesn’t mean that simple things, are lost on me… like somehow I forgot. Cause I’ve been told, many times, “just change your mind. It’s all it takes.” But I’m no fool. I’m well aware of all the rules to the game. But I’m a maker of things that are sold to richer men. I write them down so they come up again, And I can stay among the things that I had then. But I’ve been wrong, to live in verses of a song. Believing things, that no one else will ever sing until all the years have gone. And then there’s friends, they talk about those years and how long it’s been. They don’t know… but then again… I probably show that long ago I’d given in… And I am tossed into a bin like spare cloth and loose ends. Lost in the thoughts I let myself pretend, And all along you’ve grown roots, sprouted your fruits, and have your garden to tend.

about

A blend of traditional and acoustic instruments, married with raw and emotionally charged lyrics and melody.

credits

released August 18, 2016

Produced by: Nightingale Cummings & Dave Gunning

Culp’s Hill - Guitar and voice: Nightingale Cummings
Fiddle: J.P. Cormier

Holding My Breath - Guitar and voice: Nightingale Cummings
Piano: Cathy Porter

Watching Amy - Guitar and voice: Nightingale Cummings
Banjo: Dave Gunning
Accordion: Cathy Porter

Show me the Artist - Guitar and voice: Nightingale Cummings

What to Say - Guitar and voice: Nightingale Cummings
All other: J.P. Cormier

Odds and Ends - Guitar and voice: Nightingale Cummings
Piano: Cathy Porter
Cello: Tim Isaac

Special Thanks to: Dave Gunning, J.P. Cormier, Cathy Porter, Tim Isaac, Chris Chisholm, Mike Smith, J.P. Tremblay, Robb Wells, Gary Howsam, Nicole & Patrick Dooley and the entire cast and crew of TPB’s for their friendship, contribution, support and advice, that played a special role in making this possible.

Another Special Thanks to my great friends: Walter Mason, (and all the band-mates & musicians along the way), Derek & Angie Landry and family, Jenny Malloy & family (Frasers included!), extended Malloy families, Billy Rhude, Joe Landry, Andrew Roy and their families, Ben & Stephanie Andrew and family, the Entire “MacInnis Family”(Gary, Dotty, Troy, Shane, Leigh, & Devon), Ashley George, Rob & Tracy Roran and Family, Dennis and Bernadette Vint, Jennifer, Max and Bonnie Frosst and to my son Keegan, my family, and many others too numerous to name.

All songs written by Nightingale Cummings
Album photo - Chis Chisholm

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Nightingale Cummings Halifax, Nova Scotia

Nightingale Cummings is a singer songwriter from Nova Scotia, Canada.
Noticed first by Trailer Park Boy’s Mike Smith, his songs have been featured in a number of “Swearnet” productions. With the help of folk musicians: Dave Gunning, J.P. Cormier, Cathy Porter and Tim Isaac, he has released the first in a series of EP’s - Titled 1. ... more

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