From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth Long murky middle age and final hours long in the tooth Here's the hundred names of terror
under a black cloud that hides the sun So bring me my broadsword and clear understanding Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman So bring me my broadsword
Along the coast road, by the headland The early lights of winter glow I'll pour a cup to you, my darling And raise it up, say, "Cheerio"
Fallen on hard times, but it feels good to know That milk and honey's just around the bend Running on bad lines we'd better run as we go Tear up, tear
Shout if you will, but that just won't do I, for one, would rather follow softer options I'll take the easy line, another sip of wine And if I ignore
In the half tone light of a young morning She sighs and shifts on her pillow And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly To kiss the pussy willow
Take you away for my magic ship I have two hundred diesel horses thundering loud Sea birds call your name and the mountain's on fire As the summer lightning
Would you join a slow marching band And take pleasure in your leaving As the ferry sails and tears are dried And cows come home at evening? Would you
I sit by the cutting on the beacons field line He's watching me, watching the trains go by Ooh, and they move so fast boy, they really fly He's still
We travelers on the endless wastes in single orbits gliding Cold-eyed march towards the dawn, behind hard weather hoods a-hiding Meeting as the tall ships
I see a dark sail on the horizon set under a black cloud that hides the sun. Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding. Bring me my cross of gold
Перевод: Jethro Tull. Палаш.
: I see a dark sail on the horizon set under a black cloud that hides the sun. Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding. Bring me my cross of
: we travellers on the endless wastes in single orbits, gliding cold-eyed march towards the dawn behind hard-weather hoods a-hiding. Meeting as the
: From early days of infancy, through trembling years of youth, long murky middle-age and final hours long in the tooth, he's the hundred names of
: Would you join a slow marching band? And take pleasure in your leaving as the ferry sails and tears are dried and cows come home at evening. Could