Tyrannic Man's Dominion
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Lyrics
Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns
Bring Autumn's pleasant weather
The moorcock springs on whirring wings
Among the blooming heather
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain
Delights the weary farmer
And the moon shines bright, as I rove at night
To muse upon my charmer
The partridge loves the fruitful fell
The plover loves the mountain
The woodcock the haunts the lonely dell
The soaring heron the fountain
Through lofty groves, the cushat roves
The path o' man to shun it
And the hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush
The spreading thorn the linnet
(Idi dum, da da di, dum)
(Da da da di dum, di di dum)
(Da da di di dum)
(Da da da di di dum, ah)
Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find
The savage and the tender
Some mortal join, some leagues combine
Some solitary wander
Avaunt, away, the cruel sway!
Tyrannic man's dominion!
The sportsman's joy and the murdering cry
The flutt'ring, gory pinion
Tyrannic man's dominion; Burns understood this in 1783
And now our dominion extends to the wind
The space above the moor itself
But the moor talks back to me
It being the lungs of our land
And the larks in the clear air
In the sky that they command
And my heart has room to grow
Where I can open up my hand
There's space to be, in which to love and be loved
What's that worth to me, and what's that worth to us?
But Peggy dear, the evening's clear
Thick flies the skimming swallow
The sky is blue, the fields in view
All fading-green and yellow
Come, let us stray our gladsome way
And view the charms o' nature
The rustling corn, and the fruited thorn
And every happy creature
We'll gently walk and sweetly talk
Till the silent moon shines clearly
I'll grasp thy waist and fondly prest
Swear how I love thee dearly
Not vernal showers to budding flowers
Not Autumn to the farmer
Sae dear can be, as thou to me
My fair, my lovely charmer!
Will watches the pink-foots twisting overhead towards the moor
As the swallows abandon the eaves of Currie Lee
For the warm skies of Africa
He recalls his own journey from here to there four years before
The troop-train, and the boat to Egypt
Autumn would mind them all
With the feverish nights and those scorching sands
For Roberta, during that early Autumn of 1919
After the war, and after the wedding, it's the time of quickening
The time before seeing, when she just knows
When she places Will's hand gently, wordlessly, upon her belly