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.

Де Є Я?

Дивлюсь у вікно Бачу знайоме світло Поряд мій сором і совість у двох позіхають Я знаю давно Що це вже мені набридло Це довбане сонце, і ці почуття, шо вбивають Приспів: Але я не знаю Коли скінчиться... Нащо мені

She Can’t Get That

He meets her at the front door, he can tell she's had a hard day at work She's been needing him and he's sure been wantin' her He touches her with tenderness,

Troublemaker

Posted up in the club, just swagging doing my thang Popping bottles with models and just watching them drank Partying so hard, the ladies don't want it to end They looked at me

These Are Our Heroes

[Nas:] "This ain't for everybody. Y'all know who y'all are Yeah you, y'all know who y'all are. These are our heroes." [Chorus: Nas] Let's hear it, one for the coons on UPN 9

Любимый Мой

Чтобы ты, любимый мой, не забыл меня Стану я рябиною на закате дня Стану рощей лиственной в золотом огне Чтобы ты, единственный, помнил обо мне Чтобы днем и вечером ты по мне скучал Стану тонкой