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  n&n. library. lyrics.
 © thomas gygax & norbert pauls [supplement]. no unauthorised reproduction.
f
fare thee well Northumberland

the fish and the bird

the fizzy and the still

floating away

follow the ribbon


fare thee well Northumberland
from 'the ragpickers's dream'
Come drive me down to the central station
I hate to leave my river tyne
For some damn town that's god-forsaken
Fare thee well, Northumberland
Although I'll go where the lady takes me
She'll never tell what's in her hand
do not know what fate awaits me
Fare thee well, Northumberland

My heart beats for my streets and alleys
Longs to dwell in the borderlands
The north-east shore and the river valleys
Fare thee well Northumberland
I may not stay, I'm bound for leaving
I'm bound to ramble and to roam
I only say my heart is grieving
I would not gamble on my coming home

Roll on, Geordie boy, roll
Roll on, Geordie boy, roll
Roll on, Geordie boy, roll
Roll on, Geordie boy, roll

So drive me down to the central station
I hate to leave my river tyne
For some damn town that's god-forsaken
Goodbye old friend of mine
Although I'll go where the lady takes me
She'll never tell what's in her hand
I do not know what fate awaits me
Fare thee well, Northumberland

So roll on, Geordie boy, roll
Roll on, Geordie boy, roll
Roll on, Geordie boy, roll
Roll on, Geordie boy, roll

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the fish and the bird
from 'kill to get crimson'
When I gave my heart
to a tinker boy
he said a fish could love a swollow
And I will go with my travelling man
Wherever he goes I will follow

He will mend
your pots and pans
Your kitchen knives he'll take and sharpen
Then I'll be gone with my travelling man
and never more your doorway darken

The fish and the bird
who fall in love
will find no place to build a home in
The fish and the bird who fall in love
are bound forever to go roaming

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the fizzy and the still
from 'kill to get crimson'
Sunday morning, here we are
The boy's come home
not quite the movie star

He's been in Hollywood
The boy's come home
The boy's done good

He says she asked too high a price
neglecting to declare
what sits between them there on ice,
chilled. with the fizzy and the still:
he tried but didn't make it there

'It's not for me
It's not for me'

Sunday papers, here we are
The boys come home
The boys come home

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floating away
from 'down the road wherever'

Itís the weight Iím trying
To get inside the frame
Iíve been painting a fat man
Heís big and fat and heavy
As a man can be
But heís been floating away, floating away
Heís been floating away from me

In the mirror my withering skin
Is a thorny pleasure
I stand unflinching
And I mark each crease and sting
My brush my wooden flail
My ancient thresher
As unforgiving time flays everything

Itís the truth Iím trying
To get inside the frame
Now Iím painting myself naked
But I need a pair of boots
About as heavy as boots can be
Or Iíd be floating away, floating away
Iíd be floating away from me

And every thorn sends thistledown
Drifting all around
And floating away, floating away
Floating away from me

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follow the ribbon
from 'privateering'
The day's been a while fading
Seems like we have slowed
My eyes are getting weary
Can bareley see the road
It's been a while since we left behind
The city lights
There's just am line
Unwinding through the night

Yesterdays lie scattered
Like broken swords and shields
Like the used up shells and bullets
On a hundred battlefields
When I think of all the close calls
Both sides of love and death
Sometimes I can hardly get my breath

But I'll follow the ribbon anyhow
I'll follow the ribbon
That's alright for now
Up in the high country
Or down where the river flows
Wherever it goes

Don't care if they like it
I don't care if they don't
Never did much care about
If they will or won't
If all you want to know is acorns
Rooting your patch of earth
What can your praise
Really be worth?

I'm just living with the ringing
Of tomorrow's ancient rhymes
Though the road ahead may be shorter
Than the one we left behind
If there's whiskey in the bottle
Leave some for me
I'll get to it eventually

But I'll follow the ribbon
By the cold lagoon
Follow the ribbon
Under the helpless moon
Winding through the dark hills
Where a million stars have froze
Wherever it goes

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 © thomas gygax. no unauthorised reproduction.