JETHRO TULL - Heavy Horses lyrics

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Heavy horses<br>By jethro tull<br><br>Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust<br>On october's day, towards evening<br>Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough<br>Salt on a deep chest, seasoning<br>Last of the line at an honest day's toil<br>Turning the deep sod under<br>Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone<br>Flies at the nostrils plunder.<br><br>The suffolk, the clydesdale, the percheron vie<br>With the shire on his feathers floating<br>Hauling soft timber into the dusk<br>To bed on a warm straw coating.<br><br>Heavy horses, move the land under me<br>Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free<br>Now you're down to the few<br>And there's no work to do<br>The tractor's on it's way.<br><br>Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed<br>To keep the old line going.<br>And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the woods<br>Behind the young trees growing<br>To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,<br>You're eighteen hands at the shoulder<br><br>And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry<br>And the nights are seen to draw colder<br>They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power<br>Your noble grace and your bearing<br>And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls<br>In the wake of the deep plough, sharing.<br><br>Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill<br>Up into the cold wind facing<br>In stiff battle harness, chained to the world<br>Against the low sun racing<br>Bring me a wheel of oaken wood<br>A rein of polished leather<br>A heavy horse and a tumbling sky<br>Brewing heavy weather.<br><br>Bring a song for the evening<br>Clean brass to flash the dawn<br>Across these acres glistening<br>Like dew on a carpet lawn<br>In these dark towns folk lie sleeping<br>As the heavy horses thunder by<br>To wake the dying city<br>With the living horseman's cry<br><br>At once the old hands quicken ---<br>Bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---<br>Thrill to the sound of all<br>The heavy horses coming home.<br><br>Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust<br>On october's day, towards evening<br>Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough<br>Salt on a deep chest, seasoning<br>Bring me a wheel of oaken wood<br>A rein of polished leather<br>A heavy horse and a tumbling sky<br>Brewing heavy weather.<br><br>Heavy horses, move the land under me<br>Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free<br>Now you're down to the few<br>And there's no work to do<br>The tractor's on it's way.