Argyle Goolsby (born Steve Matthews in 1979) is an American singer, bassist… Read Full Bio ↴Argyle Goolsby (born Steve Matthews in 1979) is an American singer, bassist and songwriter. He is best known for being the lead vocalist, bassist and co-founder of horror punk/melodic punk band Blitzkid (1997-2012).
Although Blitzkid was disbanded in 2012, Goolsby pursues a career as a solo artist as Argyle Goolsby. He performs with both his live electric band, The Roving Midnight as well as his fully acoustic band, The Hollow Bodies.
Although Blitzkid was disbanded in 2012, Goolsby pursues a career as a solo artist as Argyle Goolsby. He performs with both his live electric band, The Roving Midnight as well as his fully acoustic band, The Hollow Bodies.
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Darken Your Doorstep
Argyle Goolsby Lyrics
Mister Babadook Creak creak go the boards at the base of the…
The Wild Branch of Rose Midnight Gave warning The Stranger′s cruel arrival Would cor…
Washer at the Ford Stranger, don't be afraid. I am in no shape to do…
Pedro Rodrigues
on Washer at the Ford
Stranger, Don't be afraid. I am in no shape to do you harm. Though frightened you surely are by me, grant me a moment's bended knee. Dismiss this bloodspray on my clothes. I can assure you it's my own. Though I lay bearing no cruel wound, the witch on the ford surely sealed my doom.
Oh God, I think I'm marked.
II. Stranger, lend me your ear. Hear these last words of a dying man. I testify a great misdeed. My true love's heart I have aggrieved. I broke off for another belle. She conjured up vengeance she conjured up Hell. She put that webbed witch there square in my path. Soaking my clothes in the blood of the past.
From round' yonder bend she came closing in. The shadowy Washer at the Ford. Jacklights in her eyes fortelling demise. The flickering Washer at the Ford.
Now I know I'm marked.
III. Stranger, could it be we've met some place before? You bear resemblance to my lover whom I've recent scorned. Yes fallen friend, we did aquaint once on a stroll round' yonder bend. Now, let me wring those stains out from your soul.
She wailed as she washed. She laughed at the cross I hastily patterned cross' my chest. My vestment she wrung and ruefully flung these burgundy bloodstains cross' my breast. From round' yonder bend she came closing in. The shadowy Washer at the Ford. Jacklights were her eyes foretelling demise. The flickering Washer at the Ford