Mad Martins

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Three Mad Martins (Prophecy)

 

Lyrics

Oh Death, come and claim me, I fear not your grasping hands,
For this wilting once fair flower of Northumberland,
With her final breath, makes this one decree;
That the glory of my sons will be a lasting legacy.

Yes, my family’s name will sound from pole to pole, mark my words;
My sons will shake the world up, be it a blessing or a curse:
But tonight they’re sleeping softly, farewell I must away;
Be at peace until the morning, now let the music play.

Here come the Martins, out to conquer all;
My three fine sons will triumph, with their backs against the wall:
Mad and proud and dangerous, out of sight and out of mind;
Three cheers for three mad Martins, here’s eyesight to the blind.

Firstborn William, your God-like soul it screams,
To bring improvement to the world, through your visions and your dreams.
Let them mock you, let them doubt you, let them say, “He’s round the bend!”;
But they’ll never tame the genius of the 'Lion of Wallsend’.

Blind hypocrites of the clergy, of my Jonathan be afraid,
For your sins and debts against God, will doubtless be repaid,
When my son holds the flaming 'Sword of Justice' in his hand,
And deals out vengeance and destruction, with the power of God’s command.

Here come the Martins, out to conquer all;
My three fine sons will triumph, with their backs against the wall:
Mad and proud and dangerous, out of sight and out of mind;
Three cheers for three mad Martins, here’s eyesight to the blind.

I hear the music, such beautiful music;
The trumpets of Heaven are sounding our name:
Though my body is broken, God has spoken;
God has chosen them.

Paint me a picture John, of a dramatic Biblical scene;
To reflect the turbulent nature of your emotions and your dreams:
You will wine and dine with Kings and Queens; their patronage will be yours,
And you too will tarry, on Invention’s lonely shores.

Yes, my family’s name will sound from pole to pole, mark my words;
My sons will shake the world up, be it a blessing or a curse:
But tonight they’re sleeping softly, farewell I must away;
Be at peace until the morning, now let the music play.

Here come the Martins, out to conquer all;
My three fine sons will triumph with their backs against the wall:
Mad and proud and dangerous, out of sight and out of mind;
Three cheers for three mad Martins, here’s eyesight to the blind;
Three cheers for three mad Martins, here’s eyesight to the blind;
Three cheers for three mad Martins.


(Lyrics & Music: Gary Miller)


© 2017 Whippet Records

Copyright Control MCPS/PRS

 

Additional Text

'Mad Martins' depicts the extraordinary lives and times of the Martin brothers, William (self-proclaimed “natural philosopher and philosophical conquerer of all nations”), Jonathan (incendiary of York Minster) and John (eminent painter, engraver, town-planner and host), who were born in the late eighteenth century in the South Tyne area of Northumberland. 

Their father, Fenwick Martin, was born in Cumberland and is first heard of as a journeyman tanner at Bardon Mill. It was there that he courted Isabella Thompson, the daughter of a small landed proprietor at Lowlands End, near Haydon Bridge. Isabella's mother was Anne Ridley, said to be descended from Bishop Nicholas Ridley, the sixteenth century protestant martyr, who was burned at the stake for his teachings and his support of Lady Jane Grey. It was this lofty parentage that undoubtedly forced Fenwick, with Isabella on the pillion, to ride to Gretna Green to be married. Fenwick and Isabella were to have thirteen children, of whom only four sons and a daughter reached adulthood - William, Richard, Jonathan, Ann and John. 

Isabella told her nurse on her deathbed that her family's name would “sound from pole to pole” and this is not without a little truth.

 

Gary Miller - Lead & Backing Vocals, Acoustic Guitar, Percussion 
Iain Petrie - Bass Guitar, Drums, Mandolin, Percussion, Backing Vocals 
Glenn Miller - Accordion 
Sylvia Doran - Backing Vocals 
The Lick Spittals - Horns