Shambling Shaman
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
this makes me Smile
And the hills they are hollow and home to the Fey,
Who dance on Midsummer's Eve,
Some people don't understand when I say,
These are the things I believe.
What's Your Favourite Rhyme in a Lyric?
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this makes me Smile
And the hills they are hollow and home to the Fey,
Who dance on Midsummer's Eve,
Some people don't understand when I say,
These are the things I believe.
Shambling Shaman
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
But it to day society this is thought provoking...
Heavy Horses lyrics
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie
with the Shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
to bed on a warm straw coating.
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
to keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood
behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
and your eighteen hands at the shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
and the nights are seen to draw colder
They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power
your noble grace and your bearing
And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
in the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
across these acres glistening
like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
as the heavy horses thunder by
to wake the dying city
with the living horseman's cry
At once the old hands quicken ---
bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
thrill to the sound of all
the heavy horses coming home.
Heavy Horses lyrics
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
An October's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie
with the Shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
to bed on a warm straw coating.
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
to keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood
behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
and your eighteen hands at the shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
and the nights are seen to draw colder
They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power
your noble grace and your bearing
And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
in the wake of the deep plough, sharing.
Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.
Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
across these acres glistening
like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
as the heavy horses thunder by
to wake the dying city
with the living horseman's cry
At once the old hands quicken ---
bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
thrill to the sound of all
the heavy horses coming home.
Ian Anderson...great choice. "When you're falling awake, and you take stock of a new day...." Wonderful
were just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl (wish you were here pink floyd)
I jumped in the river and what did I see?
Black-eyed angels swam with me (pyramid song radiohead)
Sitting here now in this bar for hours
While these strange men rent strange flowers
I’ll be picking up your petals in another few hours (flood sisters of mercy)
ill take a quiet life
a handshake of carbon monoxide (no alarms no suprises, Radiohead)
Say, is that rain or are they tears?
That stained your concrete face for years
Crying, weeping, shedding strife
Year after year, life after lif (cyanide Metallica)
Die by my hand
I creep across the land (creeping death metallica)
Brother will kill brother spilling blood across the land
killing for religion something i dont understand (Holy wars Megadeth)
I jumped in the river and what did I see?
Black-eyed angels swam with me (pyramid song radiohead)
Sitting here now in this bar for hours
While these strange men rent strange flowers
I’ll be picking up your petals in another few hours (flood sisters of mercy)
ill take a quiet life
a handshake of carbon monoxide (no alarms no suprises, Radiohead)
Say, is that rain or are they tears?
That stained your concrete face for years
Crying, weeping, shedding strife
Year after year, life after lif (cyanide Metallica)
Die by my hand
I creep across the land (creeping death metallica)
Brother will kill brother spilling blood across the land
killing for religion something i dont understand (Holy wars Megadeth)
He'll tell you lies, and eat your pies
You'll never believe that fat B******'s size
Have you ever seen him eat, He's never seen his feet
That fat B*****d
The Mac Lads
Dave
You'll never believe that fat B******'s size
Have you ever seen him eat, He's never seen his feet
That fat B*****d
The Mac Lads
Dave
robin wood
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
See that trendy there she used to be a punk
Now she's off to the disco to listen to junk
Toy dolls "dig that groove baby"
Now she's off to the disco to listen to junk
Toy dolls "dig that groove baby"
How can you say things will only get better, when you haven't lost your brand new sweater.
A question in your nerves is lit
yet you know there is no answer fit, to satsify -
Insure you not to quit.
To keep it in your mind and not fergit.
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Though the masters, make the rules.
For the wise men, and the fools
I got nothin' ma, to live up to.
Bob Dylan, It's alright ma'
or from another master of lyrical poetry...
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that,
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guide faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that,
The pith o'sense, an' pride o'worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
yet you know there is no answer fit, to satsify -
Insure you not to quit.
To keep it in your mind and not fergit.
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Though the masters, make the rules.
For the wise men, and the fools
I got nothin' ma, to live up to.
Bob Dylan, It's alright ma'
or from another master of lyrical poetry...
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that,
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guide faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that,
The pith o'sense, an' pride o'worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
Yeh defo - A classic.
it ain't no use in callin out ma name girl.
Llike you never did before.
It aint no use in callin' out ma name girl.
I can't hear you anymore.
I'm a thinkin' an a' wond'rin' - all the way down the road -
I once loved a woman - an' a child I'm told.
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul.
But don't think twice it's all right.
it ain't no use in callin out ma name girl.
Llike you never did before.
It aint no use in callin' out ma name girl.
I can't hear you anymore.
I'm a thinkin' an a' wond'rin' - all the way down the road -
I once loved a woman - an' a child I'm told.
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul.
But don't think twice it's all right.
'Pure new wool, and perfect stitches,
Not the type of jumper that makes you itches'
What a bloody class song and what a bloody class band!
Could probably end up quoting that whole song.
I'm just and ageing drummer boy
And in the wars I used to play
And I've called the tune
To many a torture session
Now they say I am a war criminal
And I'm fading away
Father please hear my confession
And in the wars I used to play
And I've called the tune
To many a torture session
Now they say I am a war criminal
And I'm fading away
Father please hear my confession
You must have seen parties of Blockheads
With blotched and lagered skin
Blockheads with food particles in their teeth
What a horrible state they're in
They've got womanly breasts under pale mauve vests
Shoes like dead pigs' noses
Cornflake packet jacket, catalogue trousers
A mouth what never closes
You must have seen Blockheads in raucous teams
Dressed up after work
Who screw their poor old Eileens
Get sloshed, and go berserk!
With blotched and lagered skin
Blockheads with food particles in their teeth
What a horrible state they're in
They've got womanly breasts under pale mauve vests
Shoes like dead pigs' noses
Cornflake packet jacket, catalogue trousers
A mouth what never closes
You must have seen Blockheads in raucous teams
Dressed up after work
Who screw their poor old Eileens
Get sloshed, and go berserk!
Your pedal extremities are colossal,
To me you look just like a fossil,
You got me walkin', talkin' an' a-squawkin',
'Cause your feets too big.
To me you look just like a fossil,
You got me walkin', talkin' an' a-squawkin',
'Cause your feets too big.
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When everyone's lost, the battle is won,
with all these things that I have done...
Killers - 2004
with all these things that I have done...
Killers - 2004
durulz beat me to it with half man half biscuit - so many excellent lyrics, but my favourite rhyme has to be:
like a game bird reserve short on pheasants,
weavers cottages devoid of tennants,
a market town that lacks quintessence,
that's Chatteris without your presence.
like a game bird reserve short on pheasants,
weavers cottages devoid of tennants,
a market town that lacks quintessence,
that's Chatteris without your presence.
