Write About It

Thief & Love

Thief & Love album design

Thief & Love

The title track!  I don’t remember what I was reading at the time, but I do think I began writing the verses on a plane flight.  Much like the Ballad of Chet Wilson, this story just flowed out of me, and I was particularly struck by the phrasing at the end of the chorus, “tell us your tale of thief and love.”  There’s no allegory here, just a fun exercise in turning a story loose:)

This one is always a band favorite to perform, and we were confident in its ability to stand out as a recorded track.  But when we listened back after initial takes, it was somewhat underwhelming, at least for our expectations.  Then Mr. Paul King walked into the studio, and everything changed:)  Paul (PK to us) is Rev’s BFF (Rev is our bass player); the two have been involved in music in Hampton Roads for many years.  Paul relocated to Richmond long before I arrived, but Rev was always telling me about this amazing musician friend of his.  We knew we wanted keys on the album, and PK was kind enough to drive down from RVA and lend his talents.  The first indication that Rev wasn’t full of it was when Paul sat down to track this song.  Until that moment, I’d never really been in the presence of a true keyboard player, someone who understood the importance of the right hand and how to fit into a band.  His delicate lines on the intro blew us away and completely elevated the vibe of the song!

Thief & Love
© Wes Gow

Old row planks and anchor chains 
1610 carved into the frame
They been searchin’ for the bullion
Since they found her name
The “Midnight’s” late to port.

Eighteen miles off the coast of Maine
Twenty foot seas and there were buckets of rain
All hands lost in a primitive game
It was a lover they were after.

O you scurvy lads 
O you mother’s sons
You gotta tell us your tale of thief and love   

A sacred oath of cloth forsaken
A priest and a peasant they were lost in passion
The Almighty was the only one who knew their secret
‘Till young Annie found the letters

If lies are the liquor of our sins
And secrets are their lovers
Father Williams, you could say, saddled up to the bar
And paid a king’s price for a hooker

And a midnight breeze through the bastard’s window
A muffled cry and an early anchor
Young Annie’s secret was gone forever

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