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Betwixt The Shelves

A warm Irish folk ballad about a woman who finds her home not in places, but in pages. Betwixt the Shelves follows a book-loving narrator as she wanders through the classics she’s lived inside — from Scottish legends and Irish myth to Austen’s restraint, Shakespeare’s tragedy, American restlessness, Russian soul-searching, and Hugo’s defiant hope. Sung with a strong Irish accent and carried by acoustic folk instrumentation, the song leans into storytelling over spectacle — intimate, literary, and fireside-close. This is a love song to books, to borrowed lives, and to the quiet places we return to when the world grows loud. Artist: Operational Cadence Track: Betwixt the Shelves Genre: Irish Folk Release: 2026 Lyrics: [Intro] Ah now, hush ye, the fire’s alive There’s stories yet that won’t lie quiet [Verse 1] Aye, I learned me love by candle glow On lonesome nights where the rain’d go slow Walter Scott on a chair gone weak Where honour bends but hearts don’t break Burns’d grin if he heard me say Love’ll break ye clean, then bid ye stay I marked them lines I daren’t say Some truths don’t fade, they’ll have their way [Verse 2] Yeats left doors not rightly shut Fair folk stirrin’ where they ought not I half believed, I won’t be coy There’s magic waits where reason’s coy Old island tales with salt and brine Selkies cryin’ for lives not mine I never asked were they lies or true I read ’em same as I always do [Pre-Chorus] Every spine knows me name Even when I’m not the same [Chorus] I don’t need roads, I don’t need gold I roam the world when pages fold If you’re askin’ where I’ll bide me still I’m betwixt the shelves, aye, always will Betwixt the shelves, soft and smart Every book near splits me heart [Verse 3] Miss Austen taught me how to wait How pride stands tall, how love comes late In quiet rooms with eyes cast low Where wantin’ learns what not to show The Brontë wind on the moor ran wild Said love’ll wound ye, fierce and mild I closed the book, then read once more Some hurts are keys, some bar the door [Verse 4] Shakespeare near drove me mad Kings gone thin and lovers sad Fools spoke truth, the wise passed by All the world’s a grand soft lie Poor Ophelia in the stream Still pullin’ hard at broken dreams Every play still cuts me through ’Cause it kens what we’ll do [Pre-Chorus] Some hearts roar, some hearts fight Mine reads on into the night [Chorus] I don’t need roads, I don’t need gold I cross the seas when pages fold If you’re lookin’ where I dwell I’m betwixt the shelves, I know ’em well Betwixt the shelves, low and kind Every life I left behind [Bridge] Huck Finn ran from names and rules Melville chased old ghostly truths I stood with Ishmael on the rail Knowin’ fine some hunts’ll fail Dostoevsky stared me bare Asked what sin a soul can bear Grace and guilt in the same breath Some books won’t rest ’til death Hugo roared from broken stone Loved the lost and called ’em home I don’t know if hope survives But I read it like it might [Final Chorus] I don’t need crowns, I don’t need fame I’ve worn a thousand borrowed names From Scottish hills to Paris dark To Russian nights that leave their mark If love’s a tale, here’s me part Betwixt the shelves, I left me heart [Outro] Ah now… let the wide world rule I’ll stay here yet. This quiet rule. *Written as part of an ongoing exploration of genre and form. Composed using traditional notation and modern production techniques.*