Fotheringay
Album - 1970 - Debaser id 136583

My friend I know you've suffered,
Although you are still young.
Why was it you who'd not take help
From anyone?

Oh it's true, it's very true, he said,
Some hard times I have known,
But I have always overcome them
On my own.

Oh the pearls that you hold in your hand
They are beautiful to see,
But you show them not to anyone,
Not even me.

For you are like the others, he said.
I never can be sure
That you wish just to see the pearls
And nothing more.

Why can you not see reason?
Our lives they are not long.
Why can you take no time
To tell us all we're wrong?

My tune it does not change, he said,
And neither does your song,
And words I use them rarely
When I'm all alone.

Do I ever wonder? You don't know.
You'll never follow, and I'll never show.
D'you see the water and watch it flow
And float an empty shell,
And you think that I'm hiding from the island.
You've a fault in your senses. Can you feel it now?

Time? What is that? I've no time to care.
I've lived for a long while nearly everywhere.
You will be taken, everyone, you ladies and you gentlemen.
Fall and listen with your ears upon the paving stone.
Is that what you hear? The coming of the sea?

Sea flows under your doors in London town.
And all your defences are all broken down.
You laugh at me on funny days, but mine's the slight of hand.
Don't you know I am a joker, a deceiver?
And I'm waiting for the land.

Winter winds they do blow cold,
The time of year, it is chosen.
Now the frost and fire,
And now the sea is frozen.

He who sleeps he does not see
The coming of the seasons,
The filling of a dream
Without a time to reason.

When she walked through evil
O'er the paths of broken illusions,
Carefully now she lives,
For she has mended her confusion.

Oh hark! The drums do beat, my love, no longer can we stay.
The bugle-horns are sounding clear, and we must march away.
We're ordered down to Portsmouth, and it's many is the weary mile.
To join the British Army on the banks of the Nile.

Oh Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to mourn,
Don't make me curse and rue the day that ever I was born.
For the parting of our love would be like parting with my life.
So stay at home, my dearest love, and I will be your wife.

Oh my Nancy, dearest Nancy, sure that will never do.
The government has ordered, and we are bound to go.
The government has ordered, and the Queen she gives command.
And I am bound on oath, my love, to serve in a foreign land.

Oh, but I'll cut off my yellow hair, and I'll go along with you.
I'll dress myself in uniform, and I'll see Egypt too.
I'll march beneath your banner while fortune it do smile,
And we'll comfort one another on the banks of the Nile.

But your waist it is too slender, and your fingers they are too small.
In the sultry suns of Egypt your rosy cheeks would spoil.
Where the cannons they do rattle, when the bullets they do fly,
And the silver trumpets sound so loud to hide the dismal cries.

Oh, cursed be those cruel wars, that ever they began,
For they have robbed our country of many's the handsome men.
They've robbed us of our sweethearts while their bodies they feed the lions,
On the dry and sandy deserts which are the banks of the Nile.