Blyth Power - Hurling Time

Taken from Wicked Women, Wicked Men and Wicket Keepers


Hearts in my hand reading seven and ace
And my hand's on my heart when I'm saying my grace
And I'm thanking the saviour for stuffing my face
With my pigs and my fishes and wine
Old Peter Wyatt's got a couple of cows
Two horses, a donkey, a sheep and a forrowing sow
And he goes to church now he isn't allowed
To work on a Sunday no more
And he bows his head as he kneels in his pew
And he doesn't know why but it's something to do
He's there with the rest of the Heaven bound crew
For sweet Jesus one day at a time

I'll go back to Shire someday
Where the fields are green and the people are grey
You won't see me for the dust of my heels I swear when I go there

'Tis diamonds they wear at their cuffs and their throats
Of silk are their britches and velvet their cloaks
While it's sacking and nettles they give us for coats
And their God He looks down from above
Now here on the land it gets harder to thrive
What with every new law that our masters contrive
We pay through the nose when were paying the tithe
To the Baron the Priest and the King
He bids good day to the sun and then next to my gold
To the ones I'll unleash and the ones I withold
But it's to the ones that increase and come back to the fold
I'll give my blessing and all of my love

But something within me demands that I lay down my arms
To give up the gun and the ghost and my magical charms
You won't see me for the dust of my heels I swear when I go there

Now here in my hand is the seven of spades
To dig up the land where the cattle once grazed
Where rebellion was fostered an army was raised
Deep in the bowels of the past
With Walter the Tyler lying dead at our feet
We drew back our bows and advanced down the street
When up came the King with his tongue waxing sweet
And he duped us with honey and bile
Then how great were my hopes meteorical rise
I could hardly believe with my very own eyes
Then the kings men came riding cut us back down to size
Without even the farce of a trial

But I'm terribly terribly terribly terribly proud
Of the arms I bore and the crest they'll sew on my shroud
Though my name is engraved on the arm of the gallows at Tyburn gate
Thanks ever so much for the trouble you took
I would have kissed your most neighbourly hand if I'd known where to look
But I was never so blind as the times I was searching for truth so hard
Andromeda you mustered your children away from their ploughs
Some are in prison some are still free to tell how
Beneath the earth that you promised them rashly
Some are pushing up daisies for you now

Category:

Music

Tags:

• Wicked
• Women
• Men
• Wicket
• Keepers
• Blyth
• Power
• Josef
• Porta
• Punk
• Joseph
• Anarchists
• Anarchy