1. |
High Germany
02:25
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Oh Polly love, oh Polly, the rout has now begun
And we must go a marching to the beating of the drum
Go dress yourself in all your best and come along with me
I'll take you to the war, my love, in high Germany
Oh Willy love, oh Willy, come listen what I say
My feet they are so tender, I cannot march away
And besides, my dearest Willy, I am with child by thee
Not fitted for the war, my love. in high Germany
I'll buy for you a horse, my love, and on it you shall ride
And all of my delight will be to ride there be your side
We'll stop at every ale house and drink when we are dry
Be true to one another, and get married, by and by
Oh cursed be the cruel wars, that ever they may rise
And out of merry England press many men like mine
They took my true love from me, likewise my brothers three
Sent them to the war, my love, in high Germany
My friends I do not value, nor foes I do not fear
Since my love has left me, I wander far and near
And when my baby it is born and smiling on my knee
I'll think of lovely Willy, in high Germany
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2. |
Hollow
04:05
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When I was a young man, I blamed my tools
And bought and sold from day to day, so freely
When I was a young man, I blamed my tools
And bought and sold from day to day, so free
The dreams I taught my sons to dream
They were smaller than I meant
The horizon's so much nearer when you kneel to pay the rent
When I was a young man, I drew straight lines
And crossed the border day to day, so freely
When I was a young man, I drew straight lines
And crossed the border day to day, so free
The dreams I taught my sons to dream
Were a compromise at best
The horizon's so much nearer when you kneel to pay the rent
When I was a young man, I paid no mind
And played the numbers day to day, so freely
When I was a young man, I paid no mind
And played the numbers day to day, so free
The dreams I taught my sons to dream
They were smaller than I meant
The horizon's so much nearer when you kneel to pay the rent
The dreams I taught my sons to dream
Were the means but not the end
The horizon's so much nearer when you kneel to pay the rent
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3. |
Crispin's Day
03:38
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The axle tree still bedded in the mire, this trilling in the blood
The call comes down the wire: "It's time to leave".
Did you hear what the thunder said: "Collect your things, get out of here"
The road's already pulling at your feet
Over shoulder glances up the path of second chances
And good intentions rusty with neglect
My overcoat is soaking as the morning comes in, smoking
Stubbing out a final cigarette
And time will tell the fortunate ones
Who crawled through the mud to a day in the sun
First light we'll be moving, rushing headlong to the future
Unreal city lost beyond the fog of war
A spectre in the distance as we swing the focus inward
Each man takes the moment squarely on the jaw
A time bomb of reprisals; the only sign of our arrival:
A scattering of ashes on the floor
And a hangover that passes like the sun through broken glasses
Wondering what the hell has all of this been for
And time will tell the fortunate ones
Who crawled through the mud to a day in the sun
Inertia spent and stalling, while the bloody rain keeps falling
Failing with a stutter and a start
A tally no-one counted, new cut valleys turned to mountains,
And Crispin's Day, it came and went unmarked
No knight in shining armour but the builder and the farmer
And the boy behind the counter in a shop
A list read out in silence, since the milk of human kindness has run out to the final, bitter drop
And time will tell the fortunate ones
Who crawled through the mud to a day in the sun
An hour since dawn has broken and not a man has spoken
The silence is no more than you'd expect
A cortege or an escort, and not a face looks distraught
Cos the truth is: we've all done things we regret
A lost game at the outset; The conclusion of the inquest -
That civil blood makes civil hands unclean
And mother holds the photo of a boy not coming home
All she has is all that might have been
And time will tell the fortunate ones
Who crawled through the mud to a day in the sun
When the battle's lost and won
Who crawled through the mud to a day in the sun
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4. |
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Oh the working man, as you can see, that is what he was born to be
Married to the working wife - that is what she'll be all her life
Never lived beyond their means nor sought assistance from their friends
Yet day and night, through thick and thin, they work life out just to keep life in
No matter friends what else befalls
The poor folk, they must work or fall
Through frost and snow, through sleet and wind, they work life out just to keep life in
Do you see the women how make the gowns for those in other parts of town
It's a sight most sorrowful to see, and I'm sure with me you will agree
Meagre is her daily pay to feed and clad a family with
She's overworked
She's tired and thin
She works life out just to keep life in
Oh mischief mine, where do you roam?
When reason called you weren't at home
If you take cheese from off the rat, is he then free to hunt the cat?
If free from union's free from dues, are we free from choice or free to choose?
Or free as any bird blown by the wind to work life out just to keep life in
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Thom Ashworth London, UK
English folksinger and bassist, hailing from the South East but calling East London home. British traditional song led by acoustic bass guitar.
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