17. 'Devil's Resting Place': The song begins with a melody that paces restlessly up and down a scale, in an almost chant-like trance. Later, it comes angrily alive, repeating in a frustrated, accusatory wail, "Water won't clean you."
16. 'Master Hunter': With each album she produces, Marling swears infrequently but precisely, taking a carefully aimed swipe at the unwarranted folksy reputation that might still linger in some people's minds. Few of her curses pack such a punch as; "I have some news - wrestling the rope from darkness is no fucking life that I would choose."
15. 'You Know': The opening four tracks of Once I Was An Eagle roll into each other without a second's gap, all with the same open tuning, so it becomes hard to tell just where one ends and the other begins. As such, this place really goes to all four. 'You Know' is the stand-out track though, with the gravelly lowness of its opening lines effortlessly transitioning up the octave with an equal sense of grace and lethargy, perfectly in keeping with the lyrics, "Damn all those people / Who don't lose control / Who will never take a foot out of life."
14. 'Don't Ask Me Why': Given that Marling is famously reticent, this one could be read as an homage to her own privacy. Once again, it is both frank and opaque, as Marling repeatedly asserts her views of the world before tacking on the disclaimer, "Don't ask me why, and I'll tell you no lies."
13. 'Salinas': Named after the town in California where John Steinbeck lived, Marling wrote 'Salinas' after picking up Steinbeck's re-telling of the Arthurian legend, The Acts Of King Arthur And His Noble Knights. If that sounds a little too dry to take, Marling would agree: "I didn't read the book because it was boring," she told NME, but the foreword from his wife inspired the song's exploration of passive motherhood.
12. 'Short Movie': Marling has always had a knack for simultaneously producing intimate lyrics and holding her listeners at a respectful arm's length, and few demonstrate this paradox more clearly than 'Short Movie'. Its every crack is filled with driving guitar and soaring strings, before she takes a pause, a breath, a step back, and sings, conspiratorially, "They know, but they'll never know why." We really won't.
11. 'Gurdjieff's Daughter': Look hard enough on YouTube and you can hear Marling's endearingly convoluted explanation of this song, which uses left-field cultural figures as a means to give some pretty important life advice. Aside from the soaring chorus, which comes as a beautiful shock, it heralds a sort of arresting, entrancing tunelessness.
10. 'Made By Maid': Marling describes this as "the truest folk song I've ever written, because it's a story from start to finish." Its narrative is mournful, other-worldly, telling the story of a baby left abandoned in the woods and left to raise itself. Unsurprisingly, it serves as an analogy for something deeper, and its sense of loss and regret is universal.
9. 'Ghosts': Probably the closest Marling's back-catalogue has to a "crowd pleaser", this is one of the few tracks from her debut album she still plays live, having evolved much too far to tolerate too much looking back. It's a deserved exception, with a jaded world-weariness that only an 18-year-old could produce with such earnesty.
8. 'Walk Alone': Marling demonstrated her remarkably effortless acting abilities in her short film Woman Driver, and this song, with its cinematic languidness, fitted it perfectly. There's a quiet assertiveness throughout, "I was put upon this earth not by any God or master," which makes the refrain "I can't walk alone" seem like an even more candid admission.
7. 'Blackberry Stone': The closest Marling gets to adhering to the straightforward rules of songwriting, with its clearly marked verse and chorus - and yet 'Blackberry Stone' is also a soaring, wistful ode to ambition and lost love which transcends formal conventions just as quickly as it learns from them.
6. 'Strange': "Do your best to be a good man" Marling advises the adulterous subject of 'Strange' with a knowing playfulness. This love affair is almost comically one-sided, as Marling speak-sings, with the bizarre American/Scottish accent she's nurtured over the years, "I don't love you like you love me... I'm pretty sure that you know."
5. 'Sophia': If you think you know where this song's heading after the softly-sung intro, think again. After a cautious, unhurried opening, the song bursts forth into layered falsetto before taking about three more left-turns. It's four songs in one, each woven together with a masterful intricacy.
4. 'Goodbye England (Covered In Snow)': Almost unbearably nostalgic, 'Goodbye England' is a poignant snapshot of England, winter, youth and family. According to an interview, it was inspired by her father walking her to the top of a hill as a child, and asking her to bring him back here before he dies: "I will come back here / Bring me back when I'm old / I want to lay here forever in the cold."
3. 'False Hope': 'Is it still OK that I don't know how to be alone?' asks Marling to nobody in particular, the first of many intensely relateable questions in a song that escalates into an explosion of anger, despair, and acceptance before winding back down with an even deeper set of questions.
2. 'What He Wrote': Marling makes no attempts to hide the sound of her fingers sliding up and down the frets of her guitar, as if to do so would strip away part of its inherent honesty. It's drenched in mythology, as tends to be her wont, but it's also timeless and seemingly deeply personal.
1. 'Devil's Spoke': Dark and atmospheric, this from Marling's second album marked a significant departure from the English-accented simplicity of her debut. It's brooding, dramatic and aggressive, with a pace so fast it seems at times to be running away from her, taking on a life of its own. The Scottish accent she inhabits, so markedly different from her spoken accent, is a sign not of inauthenticity, but of her ability to forcefully inhabit a role, a persona, a sense of theatricality. An unapologetic triumph.