High Wood
Fish Lyrics

Chill, break of day, a light frost thawing,
The morning is cold and frosty, but the sun is rising and melting the frost.

Sun, pale and grey, a spectral morning,
The sun is barely visible through the haze of the morning, giving it a ghostly appearance.

Tractors crawl, horsepower straining,
Farm equipment is moving slowly through the fields, struggling against the tough soil.

Carve the earth the ploughshares turning
The plows are digging into the dirt, preparing the land for planting.

The sod that hides where dead men lie,
The earth covers the graves of soldiers who died in battle.

the lost and fallen of wars gone by,
These are the soldiers who lost their lives fighting in past wars.

Gathering the iron harvest reminders of their bloody madness
Weapons and other relics of war are collected from the fields, serving as a reminder of the violence that took place there.

Whose bones in furrows sometimes rise to plead to be identified.
Sometimes, the remains of soldiers are uncovered in the fields, still waiting to be identified.

To join the ranks of comrade soldiers buried beneath the bleached white crosses Names and numbers cut in stone, the regiment they called their home,
The fallen soldiers are buried alongside their comrades with their names and regiment inscribed on their graves.

The age they reached the day they died, their memory is all that does survive
Only their age and memories of them remain on this earth.

In tended graves they rest in peace their battle finally over
The soldiers are laid to rest in carefully maintained graves, their fighting days finally at an end.

The rolling trembling thunder rides the ridge of Bazentin Detonations scatter clouds of crows
Explosions shake the land and scare off the birds in the nearby ridge of Bazentin.

The tree line offers refuge to the wide eyed startled deer Launch, plunging through the bracken they head into the shadows of the High Wood
Deer seek shelter in the trees, running quickly into the High Wood when spooked.

The oaks majestic standing proud and tall Holding their position on a landscape lost in time
The oak trees are large and impressive, standing strong on this old battlefield.

The roots dug in the sore contested ground The gnarled and twisted timbers betray the battle scars of yore
The tree roots are dug deeply into the difficult soil, and the trees themselves bear marks of the intense fighting in this area.

The wood will rise, the wood will fall, the circle is unbroken, the wounds will heal in rings of time, The circle is unbroken
The forest will continue to exist, despite the battles that took place there. Time will heal the wounds inflicted on this land.

Half buried in the forest floor decay Broken rusting weaponry beneath the fallen leaves The shells that failed still hold their deadly load Dormant in the undergrowth their promise only stalled
The forest floor is littered with decaying remnants of war, including rusting weapons and unexploded shells.

In the darkness of the High Wood it’s so dense I can hardly breathe, a stark and muffled silence I stand alone amongst the trees.
The High Wood is dark and difficult to navigate, and the silence is eerie.

Are they ghosts or moving shadows, are they spirits gone before? Are these the restless souls still wandering, the ones that were forsaken in the High Wood.
The singer questions whether the shadows around them could be the ghosts of soldiers who died in battle, forever wandering the battlefield where they met their end.