Mad Martins
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Wicked Old World
Lyrics
I held you dearly in my arms,
When you needed me so;
I guided you through the gates of Hell,
And never let you go.
I was your one true guiding light,
Through the lonely path you trod;
Your daily hope, your nightly peace;
Your rock, your staff, your rod.
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
Oh, how I miss you so:
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
Why did you have to go?
Between dust mountains and green fields,
We shared a happy life;
I was your intellectual muse,
Your dear devoted wife.
In my perfect charming vocal style,
I read to you each day;
I rocked the cradle constantly,
And stitched my life away.
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
But I still love you so:
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
Where did those good times go?
You brought Deluge and Expulsion,
You crossed the Bridge of Chaos;
You wrought Creation and Destruction,
Through all our earthly loss.
Our social evenings were the toast
Of the elite of London Town,
But all that chess and song and poetry
Wore your resources down.
I was homemaker and helpmate,
While you flew wild and free;
History will remember you,
But who will remember me?
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
This pain it hurts me so:
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life:
Now it’s my time to go.
(Lyrics & Music: Gary Miller)
When you needed me so;
I guided you through the gates of Hell,
And never let you go.
I was your one true guiding light,
Through the lonely path you trod;
Your daily hope, your nightly peace;
Your rock, your staff, your rod.
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
Oh, how I miss you so:
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
Why did you have to go?
Between dust mountains and green fields,
We shared a happy life;
I was your intellectual muse,
Your dear devoted wife.
In my perfect charming vocal style,
I read to you each day;
I rocked the cradle constantly,
And stitched my life away.
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
But I still love you so:
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
Where did those good times go?
You brought Deluge and Expulsion,
You crossed the Bridge of Chaos;
You wrought Creation and Destruction,
Through all our earthly loss.
Our social evenings were the toast
Of the elite of London Town,
But all that chess and song and poetry
Wore your resources down.
I was homemaker and helpmate,
While you flew wild and free;
History will remember you,
But who will remember me?
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life;
This pain it hurts me so:
It’s a wicked old world,
It’s a wicked old life:
Now it’s my time to go.
(Lyrics & Music: Gary Miller)
© 2017 Whippet Records
Copyright Control MCPS/PRS
Recording Credits
Sylvia Doran - Vocals
Richard Doran - Bouzouki
Mick Tyas - Mandolin
background - Isabella Mary Martin, John Martin's eldest daughter, unknown.
foreground left - Portrait of John Martin [pencil], Charles Wageman.
foreground right - John Martin [pencil and chalk] William Brockendon, 1826. National Portarit Gallery.
foreground left - Portrait of John Martin [pencil], Charles Wageman.
foreground right - John Martin [pencil and chalk] William Brockendon, 1826. National Portarit Gallery.
Additional Text
In her later years, John’s widow, Susan, suffered greatly from rheumatism. She died in 1858, having survived John by only four years. She was survived by three sons; Alfred, Leopold, and Charles; and three daughters; Isabella, Zenobia and Jessie. According to her son Leopold, she “proved a dear and devoted wife… who made my father’s home and life supremely happy, a true and loving helpmate, not only the pride and deeply beloved of a numerous family, but the esteemed of all. As a wife none could have been more inspiring, encouraging or devoted.”