Richard Thompson - Guns Are The Tongues - Текст песни

(Richard Thompson) 

Carrie ran a murderous crew 
Dedicated through and through 
And the chance to prove 
They never squandered 
And they liked to kill so clean 
Save the innocent, kill the mean 
But from time to time, 
A bullet wandered 

Carrie kept her souvenirs 
Kept her scrapbook down the years 
Of her brave boys, how she cried to read it 
And a few fell by the way 
Or lost the stomach for the fray 
So young blood was always needed 

Carrie noticed him right away 
The way his whole body would sway 
Like a trawler boy 
Finding his legs ashore 
They said he was just nineteen 
A head case but his record was clean 
Just the kind 
They were looking for 

Carrie watched him through the crack 
As they teased him behind his back 
They called him Little Joe 
'Cos he scraped the ceiling 
And when he was the worse for wear 
She took him up the stair 
And soon he fell 
For her brand of healing 

She said, I'll lie like a rose on your pillow 
Let me twine the laurel in your hair 
I want to smell my love on your fingers 

If you want to be mine, Little Joe 
You must harden your mind, Little Joe 
We've got to fight for what is ours 
Bring peace to the grave of my brother 
Bring peace to the grave of my father 
Dry the old eyes of my mother 
Little Joe 

There's a roadblock down the way 
Thick with soldiers night and day 
They'll hear the noise 
All the way to Glengarry 
If you show you've got the stuff 
That you're sworn and brave enough 
Then you'll stand tall 
In the eyes of your Carrie 

And I will lie like a rose on your pillow 
And I'll twine the laurel in your hair 
I want to smell revenge on your fingers 

Guns are the Tongues, Little Joe 
The only words we know 
The only sound that'll reach their ears 
Bring peace to the grave of my brother 
Bring peace to the grave of my father 
Dry the old eyes of my mother 
Little Joe 

Now Little Joe would've jumped clear 
But for the awful fear 
Of scraping his knees there on the gravel 
The car was a rolling bomb 
Blew all to Kingdom Come 
They marvelled how far 
His boots had travelled 

Another hero snatched from my pillow 
I used to twine the laurel in his hair 
I want to smell sacrifice on my fingers 

Guns are the Tongues, Little Joe 
The only words we know 
The only sound that'll reach their ears 
Bring peace to the grave of my brother 
Bring peace to the grave of my father 
Dry the old eyes of my mother 
Little Joe