Old Music Tuesdays: Who Knows Where The Time Goes?

The other day, this song written by Sandy Denny (and performed by Fairport Convention) played randomly on my speakers. It gave me the chills.

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How can a song I've heard hundreds of times still do that? This isn't really an answer, but I do have some thoughts. First of all, Sandy Denny had a perfect voice for the British folk music she sang: She was an inimitable antidote to all the male poets/singers making tripped-out rock music in 1968. Her voice was pure and honest. And then there are those words, made so much more potent by her tragic death at 31.

Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
Sad, deserted shore, your fickle friends are leaving
Ah, but then you know it's time for them to go
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving
I do not count the time
For who knows where the time goes?
Who knows where the time goes?
And I am not alone while my love is near me
I know it will be so until it's time to go
So come the storms of winter and then the birds in spring again
I have no fear of time
For who knows how my love grows?
And who knows where the time goes?

I know others have recorded this song. Even Sandy Denny had recorded it with Strawbs before this 1968 recording with Fairport Convention on the LP Unhalfbricking. But this version, with Richard Thompson on guitar, is the one that'll raise the hair on the back of your neck.

Can you think of a song that gives you the chills, time after time? Why is that, and how does it happen?

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