We waited in our summer camps, we waited all summer long To be paid for the bloody work we had done I fought with Freeborn John, I fought with General Ireton The best of men in the worst of times I have honours to my name, I have served my God And not that fool of a king But when I close my eyes to dream I see pikes against the sky I hear dying men and horses scream And no one tells us what is happening No one seems to know what is happening
Through those November rains, we were on the march again To Putney with our elected men And in the Church the leaders talked And outside we stamped our feet against the cold And dared to hope News from home comes slow and it is never good The harvest poor and too few to gather We were sent to hang two men caught stealing food By a frozen river And no one ever tells us what is happening No one seems to know what's happening
They say in London town the streets are alive with talk The Assembly of Saints to be taken down I say let them rot in Hell - it will be God's will To see a land that is free Everywhere there are prophets Everywhere there are words All rumours and rapture But I just long to go home, turn my face into the sun And now I know Jerusalem And no one ever tells us what is happening No one seems to know what is happeningTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
