Invisible
27-Jan-10, 11:43
This is a song on the McCalmans (Festival Lights) and also Nick Keir's (All over this town). I think it's well written.
Far Down the Line
You'll drink a last pint up in Leslie's on the way,
They say the beer will taste more bitter from today,
You'll take a long look at the skyline from the bridge,
And watch the morning sun explore the Old Town's ridge.
You've heard it all, you've said it all, it's time to go,
You'll find a better life in England, sure you know,
You had to smile when old friends sadly shook their heads,
"Come on, it's no the moon I'm going to", you said.
It's not for long you'll make your money and return,
But in the morning light you watch the Tweed bridge burn,
You dream the South will give you all the things you lack,
And you can scarcely hear the land that calls you back.
And when the team in blue run out you'll raise a cheer,
You can sing 'The Flower of Scotland' once a year,
Though you promised that you'd always keep in touch,
Well you were never one for writing very much
And will you hang arround the pubs of Camden Town?
Will you let them call you Jock, the tartan clown?
And when you're drunk at Hogmanay, will you believe,
That you still mourn the land you were so keen to leave?
And there are thousands, many thousands of your kind,
Perth and Stornoway and Kirkwall left behind,
And if they ask you why you took the long road South,
You'll say you had no choice, there's nothing left there now.
Now you're waiting on the London train,
And it won't be long before you leave it all behind,
There's no pipe band playing 'Will ye no come back again'
Far down the line, far down the line
Far Down the Line
You'll drink a last pint up in Leslie's on the way,
They say the beer will taste more bitter from today,
You'll take a long look at the skyline from the bridge,
And watch the morning sun explore the Old Town's ridge.
You've heard it all, you've said it all, it's time to go,
You'll find a better life in England, sure you know,
You had to smile when old friends sadly shook their heads,
"Come on, it's no the moon I'm going to", you said.
It's not for long you'll make your money and return,
But in the morning light you watch the Tweed bridge burn,
You dream the South will give you all the things you lack,
And you can scarcely hear the land that calls you back.
And when the team in blue run out you'll raise a cheer,
You can sing 'The Flower of Scotland' once a year,
Though you promised that you'd always keep in touch,
Well you were never one for writing very much
And will you hang arround the pubs of Camden Town?
Will you let them call you Jock, the tartan clown?
And when you're drunk at Hogmanay, will you believe,
That you still mourn the land you were so keen to leave?
And there are thousands, many thousands of your kind,
Perth and Stornoway and Kirkwall left behind,
And if they ask you why you took the long road South,
You'll say you had no choice, there's nothing left there now.
Now you're waiting on the London train,
And it won't be long before you leave it all behind,
There's no pipe band playing 'Will ye no come back again'
Far down the line, far down the line