The Brigadier (2006 Digital Remaster)-Jake Thackray

歌手 : Jake Thackray

专辑 : Jake In A Box [The EMI Recordings 1967-1976]

语种 : 英语

时长 : 03:05

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TXT The Brigadier (2006 Digital Remaster)-Jake Thackray 文本歌词

The Brigadier (旅长) (2006 Digital Remaster) - Jake Thackray

Up where we live we've

Got everything

We've got a cuckoo and

A nightingale

We've got a shop and

Chapel and a boozer

And a little jail

We've got a brain-sick

Witch and a cricket pitch

We've got a pump and

A duck pond here

A vicar and a blacksmith

And a local idiot

And a brigadier a frigging brigadier

Let the caravans come

Let the charabancs roll

Tripping our hills picking

Our daffodils

Getting stuck in our holes

We don't care

We don't mind trippers

And scouts and ramblers

They can come and stand

In the rain all day

They give us money and beer

And a right good belly laugh

Then they go away

But who pins medals on the

Chests of our children

Who pins a rose on our

Biggest pig's ear

Who pins a little red poppy

On our cenotaph

A brigadier a frigging brigadier

Let the bearded wonders come

Whether we like or not

They squat in the cottages

Of our ancestors

Making bloody pottery We don't care

We get drunk we get rowdy

And we get nicked when

The flatfeet come;

How are we judged

By whose almighty

Finger and thumb

Not by Bacchus's not by Jupiter's

Not by Solomon's We're

Summonsed to appear

Underneath the beak of

His week-a-day worship

A brigadier a frigging brigadier

Let the rain-god come

Spitter and spat and spout

At least he's a god who is impartial:

He waggles it about We don't care

On a Sunday when the vicar

Admonishes our wickedness

Whose "Amen" resounds down the aisle

Who reads the Sermon

On the Mount with a Holy

Ghost of a smile

Who takes the wine Who

Takes the biscuit

Who brings the plate Who

Bends the ear

Singing of his hopes for a new Jerusalem

A brigadier a frigging brigadier

Let God's pale archangel the

Grim Reaper come;

He can hack my bones he can

Step upon my gravestone

He can kiss my bum I don't care

If he wants my chimneys

If he wants my acres

If he wants my trout if

He wants my grouse

If he wants gold and silver titbits

He's got the wrong house

He can rattle my latch bang my knocker

There's not one whit of a titbit here;

Go tap with his dainty sickle

On the windowpane

Of the brigadier

The frigging brigadier