The Song Collector

The Folk Society meet on Thursday nights
Clear their throats and put their coughs to flight
To sing the dusty cobwebs from the room
A repertoire both in and out of tune
Don't assume a singalong, or worse
This history in song and countless verse
Pays homage to the man who, long ago
Collected all the songs the singers know
Collected all the songs the singers know

Edward Alexander, man of action
Armed only with his reel-to-reel contraption
One hundred years ago in mac and boots
Set out to faithfully preserve the region's roots
And every night in some small village inn
Fortified with fortitude and gin
Mr Alexander, for a shilling
Would thus record your song, if you were willing
Would thus record your song, if you were willing

So word got round, and soon there formed a queue
And the line of willing singers grew and grew
Brass for oohs and aahs? You can't go wrong
When there's someone paying a shilling for a song
When all his tapes are filled up, Edward leaves
There's a history preserved, so he believes
But all the so-called singers back inside
They know they took a city scholar for a ride
They know they took a city scholar for a ride

For they shook the man for every coin he'd got
With words and tunes all made up on the spot
Invented tales not twenty minutes old
So history, like ale, is bought and sold.
The old contraption's packed away and boxed
And a century is marked upon the clock
So tradition holds that Edward's great collection
Is honoured with a weekly resurrection
Honoured with a weekly resurrection

And now the old Society sing the songs
Word for word, and kept where they belong
As once again, they eulogise the past
You can hear the ghosts of history laughing last
You can hear the ghosts of history laughing last

Похожие новости.

Trigger

The storm is rising From the ashes Like the cruelest Flames of fury Like a crystal This love crashes Against the concrete Shaking you and me Where do we go? Where do we go from here? We could have gone

On A Good Day

On A Good Day, when I think about her I only cry a couple hundred tears On A Good Day, when I can't forget about her I can dull the pain with just

Sextonik

Sous tension Mais pure Nulle amertume Un frisson Sous pression S'affine L'endorphine Compagnon Sous caution Les sages Divine image De l'addiction Stimu-stimu-long Vibrent les origines Libertines Lib?rons... que j'aime le Sex sex sex sex sex tonik Sex sex sex sex sex tonik Serial joueur un jouet sans coeur C'est

Все, Как Ты Хотела

Музыка - Дмитрий Маликов Слова - Лилия Виноградова Сердце пополам между будущим и прошлым, Главные слова выдохнуть при всех так сложно, Нежная печаль тает на пороге счастья. Помнить этот день в радости и в горе

Що Буде

Перші промені світанку мене випроваджують І змерзлі діти що на чорний хліб чекають І тихе місто, що у сні лиш спокій знаходить І автострада, що в якийсь-то новий світ виходить Не є запах чорной