Who could have predicted that English folk-rock would be so successful, or that "Now Be Thankful," written by Dave Swarbrick and Richard Thompson, would still be played decades later? Sounds pretty cheery, but some people think it's actually about being tortured in medieval times: When the stone is grown too cold to kneel In crystal waters I'll be bound Cold as stone, weary to the sounds upon the wheel Now be thankful for good things below Now be thankful to your maker For the rose, the red rose blooms for all to know When the fire is grown too fierce to breathe In burning irons I'll be bound Fierce as fire, weary to the sound upon the wheel. googletag.cmd.push(function() { googletag.display('div-gpt-ad-1386288741770-3'); });