A Murder Is Arranged by Terry K. Scott Lyrics
{Chapter 1}
July 8th, 1979,
One:
The unsown stirring fields and the cobbled roads gather to the surprise of a town:
Here the morning sun rises clear, and respondent, gliding over the heavens. The town was tranquil and the sun beamed down like a benediction.
In the heart of the North, there are many towns, unknown to almost everyone except taxi drivers who traverse the lands with еxpert knowledge. No town in this rеgion is, I think, as delectable as West Censtowe. West Censtowe was a town of nearly thirty thousand inhabitance and with it the most extraordinary collection of incongruities, in the shape of buildings that display at once the architecture of every country under the sun, that is anywhere t be found. Bront Park, just beyond the village is the delectable, inviting, and reposeful land I chose as the selected site for my literary creation; and there, pleasantly intoxicated by the wealth of delicate un-metropolitan greenery I started to set down the circumstances which led to my affair at the Censtowe Hotel.
The affair at the Censtowe Hotel began in the month of May when the flowers thickened in bright clusters. The songs of birds woke up the woods with their harmony. No month of the year has had more praise sang to it than the month of May. It is in May that the locust trees are in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. A tree is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful objects in nature. Airy, delicate, majestic, and luxuriant in its prime and venerable and picturesque in its elder years.
To the West, if viewed at a distance, the little white houses have the appearance of a large flock of sheep dispersed about the cliff. The Censtowe Hotel is situated about three miles from the busy city of C--------, and a good view was obtained of it at the venerable, ivy-covered ruins of the Censtowe Castle are among the most picturesque in the North of England. It was at the North corner of Palemen Street that the Old house was. It had a blackish unpainted surface, a steep roof, an outside set of stairs leading to the second and third stories, and was suffocatingly embowed in a tangle of dense ivy.
Two:
Shirley, lay with her back to me, in the middle of the bed. Her body and limbs formed a Z. She had put both pillows under her dark flowing hair. She was clothed in one of her old nightgowns, my Shirley, a band of pale light crossed her face. Morning had begun to steal on night. The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning. There had been steady rain for two days, and the next day the rain had come. The heavens over the moors had blackened fast as the wind poured in impetuous currents through the air, sounding wild, unremittingly from hour to hour.
July 8th, 1979,
One:
The unsown stirring fields and the cobbled roads gather to the surprise of a town:
Here the morning sun rises clear, and respondent, gliding over the heavens. The town was tranquil and the sun beamed down like a benediction.
In the heart of the North, there are many towns, unknown to almost everyone except taxi drivers who traverse the lands with еxpert knowledge. No town in this rеgion is, I think, as delectable as West Censtowe. West Censtowe was a town of nearly thirty thousand inhabitance and with it the most extraordinary collection of incongruities, in the shape of buildings that display at once the architecture of every country under the sun, that is anywhere t be found. Bront Park, just beyond the village is the delectable, inviting, and reposeful land I chose as the selected site for my literary creation; and there, pleasantly intoxicated by the wealth of delicate un-metropolitan greenery I started to set down the circumstances which led to my affair at the Censtowe Hotel.
The affair at the Censtowe Hotel began in the month of May when the flowers thickened in bright clusters. The songs of birds woke up the woods with their harmony. No month of the year has had more praise sang to it than the month of May. It is in May that the locust trees are in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. A tree is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful objects in nature. Airy, delicate, majestic, and luxuriant in its prime and venerable and picturesque in its elder years.
To the West, if viewed at a distance, the little white houses have the appearance of a large flock of sheep dispersed about the cliff. The Censtowe Hotel is situated about three miles from the busy city of C--------, and a good view was obtained of it at the venerable, ivy-covered ruins of the Censtowe Castle are among the most picturesque in the North of England. It was at the North corner of Palemen Street that the Old house was. It had a blackish unpainted surface, a steep roof, an outside set of stairs leading to the second and third stories, and was suffocatingly embowed in a tangle of dense ivy.
Two:
Shirley, lay with her back to me, in the middle of the bed. Her body and limbs formed a Z. She had put both pillows under her dark flowing hair. She was clothed in one of her old nightgowns, my Shirley, a band of pale light crossed her face. Morning had begun to steal on night. The rainy night had ushered in a misty morning. There had been steady rain for two days, and the next day the rain had come. The heavens over the moors had blackened fast as the wind poured in impetuous currents through the air, sounding wild, unremittingly from hour to hour.