Heavy Horses

I chase your every footstep
And i follow every whim.
When you call the tune i'm ready
To strike up the battle hymn.
My lady of the meadows ---
My comber of the beach ---
You've thrown the stick for your dog's trick
But it's floating out of reach.
The long road is a rainbow and the pot of gold lies there.
So slip the chain and i'm off again ---
You'll find me everywhere. i'm a rover.

As the robin craves the summer
To hide his smock of red,
I need the pillow of your hair
In which to hide my head.
I'm simple in my sadness,
Resourceful in remorse.
Then i'm down straining at the lead ---
Holding on a windward course.

Strip me from the bundle
Of balloons at every fair:
Colourful and carefree ---
Designed to make you stare.
But i'm lost and i'm losing
The thread that holds me down.
And i'm up hot and rising
In the lights of every town.

heavy horses
By jethro tull

Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
On october's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
Turning the deep sod under
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
Flies at the nostrils plunder.

The suffolk, the clydesdale, the percheron vie
With the shire on his feathers floating
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
To bed on a warm straw coating.

Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.

Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
To keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the woods
Behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
You're eighteen hands at the shoulder

And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
And the nights are seen to draw colder
They'll beg for your strength, your gentle power
Your noble grace and your bearing
And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
In the wake of the deep plough, sharing.

Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.

Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
Across these acres glistening
Like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
As the heavy horses thunder by
To wake the dying city
With the living horseman's cry

At once the old hands quicken ---
Bring pick and wisp and curry comb ---
Thrill to the sound of all
The heavy horses coming home.

Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
On october's day, towards evening
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.

Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.

Good morning weathercock: how did you fare last night?
Did the cold wind bite you, did you face up to the fright
When the leaves spin from october
And whip around your tail?
Did you shake from the blast, did you shiver through the gale?

Give us direction; the best of goodwill ---
Put us in touch with fair winds.
Sing to us softly, hum evening's song ---
Tell us what the blacksmith has done for you.

Do you simply reflect changes in the patterns of the sky,
Or is it true to say the weather heeds the twinkle in your eye?
Do you fight the rush of winter; do you hold snowflakes at bay?
Do you lift the dawn sun from the fields and help him on his way?

Good morning weathercock: make this day bright.
Put us in touch with your fair winds.
Sing to us softly, hum evening's song.
Point the way to better days we can share with you.

Keep your eyes open and prick up your ears ---
Rehearse your loudest cry.
There's folk out there who would do you harm
So i'll sing you no lullaby.
There's a lock on the window; there's a chain on the door:
A big dog in the hall.
But there's dragons and beasties out there in the night
To snatch you if you fall.

So come out fighting with your rattle in hand.
Thrust and parry. light
A match to catch the devil's eye. bring
A cross of fire to the fight.

And let no sleep bring false relief
From the tension of the fray.
Come wake the dead with the scream of life.
Do battle with ghosts at play.

Gather your toys at the call-to-arms
And swing your big bear down.
Upon our necks when we come to set
You sleeping safe and sound.

It's as well we tell no lie
To chase the face that cries.
And little birds can't fly
So keep an open eye.
It's as well we tell no lie
So i'll sing you no lullaby.

Muscled, black with steel-green eye
Swishing through the rye grass
With thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie.
Tail balancing at half-mast.
...and the mouse police never sleeps ---
Lying in the cherry tree.
Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry.
Look out, little furry folk!
He's the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten ---
Leaves the others on the mat.
...and the mouse police never sleeps ---
Waiting by the cellar door.
Window-box town crier;
Birth and death registrar.
With claws that rake a furrow red ---
Licensed to multilate.
From warm milk on a lazy day
To dawn patrol on hungry hate.
...no, the mouse police never sleeps ---
Climbing on the ivy.
Windy roof-top weathercock.
Warm-blooded night on a cold tile.