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Shatter and Rise

by C.S. MacCath

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1.
(Intro) Who are the sleepers, and who is awake? Oh, who of us is ready, and who of us will break? To each of us is given the sorrows of the wise, But who of us will shatter, and who of us will rise? She watched me through a mask of ice stumble across the snow. She waited until I collapsed upon a briny floe. She said, "Rise to this challenge, girl, or I will leave you here. I am not your summer goddess. I am everything you fear." And as my fingers blackened, she told secrets, old and grave about the fall of magic, what was lost and what was saved. Her words were liquid silver falling on my weary eyes. They marked my dying body, and they mocked my hollow cries, as she said: (Chorus) "You are the one they've chosen, but you've nowhere else to go, so if you plan to live, there are some things you ought to know. For I am the witch of secrets, and I keep the bitter night. So heed my words, my girl, or you'll be dead by morning light." She read to me from ancient books of mastery and lore, pages brittle as the bones of girls who came before. A keening wind rose up around the ribbons of her gown, as she taught me how to summon tides and call the weather down. My eyes were heavy-lidded when she whispered in my ear an offering of sweet release from agony and fear. But as her voice beguiled me, and my blood began to slow, I called upon a shooting star to rain upon the snow, and she said: (Chorus) "You are the one they've chosen, but you've nowhere else to go, so if you plan to live, there are some things you ought to know. For I am the witch of secrets, and I keep the bitter night. So heed my words, my girl, or you'll be dead by morning light." A blaze rose up around us and dissolved her icy mask. She smiled at me with winter's teeth and offered up a flask. She said, "Drink with me a while. There is much that you should see, for you have proven yourself worthy to receive these gifts from me," and I said: (Chorus) "I am the one they've chosen, and I've nowhere else to go, but since I've failed to die, there are some things that I would know. For I serve the witch of secrets, and we keep the bitter night. So lift your face, my Queen, and we will greet the morning light." (Outro) Who are the sleepers, and who is awake? Oh, who of us is ready, and who of us will break? To each of us is given the sorrows of the wise, But who of us will shatter, and who of us will rise?
2.
Cruel Johnny 04:46
Two sisters sang in a shady bower. Oh, the wind and the rain. A song to pass a happy hour. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. One was bright as the morning sun. Oh, the wind and the rain. Dark as earth was the other one. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. One day, Johnny came a-courting there. Oh, the wind and the rain. Hungry for the sisters, fair. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. He courted the brighter with a glove. Oh, the wind and the rain. And vowed he would be her own true love. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. He courted the darker with a knife. Oh, the wind and the rain. And vowed he would take her sweet, young life. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. "Oh, Johnny, Johnny come and walk the cliffs." Oh, the wind and the rain. "To watch the ships and the sailing skiffs." Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. But as he looked down upon the shore, Oh, the wind and the rain. he sisters pushed cruel Johnny o'er. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. A minstrel walked by the windy strand. Oh, the wind and the rain. And saw his body float to land. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. She made a harp of his white breast bone. Oh, the wind and the rain. The sight would melt a heart of stone. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. Harp strings she made from his yellow hair. Oh, the wind and the rain. And with them strung this harp so rare. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. The harp she took to a shady bower. Oh, the wind and the rain. Where two sisters sang of love and power. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. And laid the harp upon a stone. Oh, the wind and the rain. Where it began to play alone. Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. "Two sisters did I come to court." Oh, the wind and the rain. "And of their love, I made cruel sport." Oh, the dreadful wind and rain. "They chose each other over me." Oh, the wind and the rain. "And by my death, they are set free." Oh, the dreadful wind and rain.
3.
Seven Weeks 03:54
For seven weeks I've wondered, and for seven weeks I've wept, for all the things you promised me, and promises I kept. I have asked the holy oracles - about your lack of reply, and they are certain that you've left me, though they are not certain why. For three hours I held you, and for three hours I knew - this shining fire of prophecy - was manifest in you. I suppose I knew it transient - when I gazed into your eyes, and I was certain that you'd leave me, though I was not certain why. (Chorus) And these are not your cards! No, they cannot be your cards. This overwhelming anguish. These indecisive faces. They cannot be your cards, but they are all I have, and I have read them with my very soul, my very soul, my very soul, and I have given them a place to sleep - where my love for you still dwells. In seven days I'll go there, and for three days I will pray - in the forest where I tasted you, in the place where we did lay. But if I do not see you - where you know that I will be, I will take your memory home with me, and I will set my longing free. (Chorus) And these are not your cards! No, they cannot be your cards. This overwhelming anguish. These indecisive faces. They cannot be your cards, but they are all I have, and I have read them with my very soul, my very soul, my very soul, and I have given them a place to sleep - where my love for you still dwells. For seven weeks I've wondered, and for seven weeks I've wept.

about

A young woman braves the wrath of a winter goddess to learn a lost magic. Another throws the tarot for an unrequited love and finds only a mirror in the cards. Two sisters make a terrible choice to preserve one of them from harm. Shatter and Rise brings together three ballads from C.S. MacCath's repertoire of original songs to address the resilience, the heartache, and the power of magical women. Hit "play," curl your hands around a tisane, and be transported.

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released May 1, 2022

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C.S. MacCath Nova Scotia

C.S. MacCath is a singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, a writer of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry, a playwright, and and a PhD candidate in Folklore at Memorial University of Newfoundland. Her folkloric approach to musical storytelling is rooted in Western and Northern European Paganisms, which are her spiritual touchstones. ... more

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