Decemberists The Tain (Parts I, II, III, IV, V) lyrics

The Tain (parts I, Ii, Iii, Iv, V) by Decemberists

The Tain (Parts I, II, III, IV, V) lyrics

[PART I]

[crone:] here upon this pillow 
made of reed and willow 
you're a fickle little twister 
are you sweet on your sister? 
your fallow won't leave you alone. 

and granted for their pleasure 
possesions laid to measure 
she's a salty little pisser 
with your cock in her kisser 
but now she's a will of her own. 

[PART II]

[husband:] damn your ankles and eyes wide 
from you fingernails to your ponytails too. 
king of the insects and the m-5 
over charlemagne in a motorcade too. 

and baby needs a new prize 
baby needs a new and shiny prize. 

[captain:] in this place called heavenly 
you were born here. 
this place called heavenly 
you were born here. 
you were born here. 

[husband:] and now all the marchers descend from high 
i will dedicate all of my awakenings to this. 

and damn all the angles that opress my sight 
i will bleed your heart through a samovar soon. 

[captain:] in this place called heavenly 
you were born here. 
this place called heavenly 
you were born here. 
you were born here. 

[PART III]

[soldier:] they settled dust in your hair 
to watch you shake and shout it out. 
with our armaments bared 
we shed our bags and travel alls. 

from the lee of the wall 
he comes in the chang and the chariot 
and all his eunuchs in thrall 
can scarce lift his line and lariat. 

here com loose his hounds 
to blow me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] blow me down. 

[soldier:] on this stretch of ground 
i'll lay me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] lay me down. 

[soldier:] to sleep. 

[chaplain:] and now stricken with pangs 
that tear at our backs like thistle down 
the mirror's soft silver tain 
reflects our last and birthing hour 

[soldier:] here com loose his hounds 
to blow me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] blow me down. 

[soldier:] on this stretch of ground 
i'll lay me down. 

[chorus of waifs:] lay me down. 

[soldier:] to sleep. 

[PART IV]

[evening]

[widow:] o the wind is blowing, it hurts your skin 
as you climb up hillside, forest and fen. 

your arms full of lullabies, orchids and wine 
your memories wrapped within paper and twine. 

the room that you lie in is dusty and hard 
sleeping soft babies on piles of yards 
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk 
your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk. 

when the dawn commes to greet you, you'll rise with clothes on 
and advance with the others, singing old songs 
of cattle and maidens and withered old queens. 
let the music carry you on. 

the room that you lie in is dusty and hard 
sleeping soft babies on piles of yards 
of gingham, taffeta, cotton and silk 
your dry hungry mouths cry for your mother's milk. 

[PART V]

[woman:] darling dear what have you done? 
your clothes are town, your make-up runs. 

[daughter:] i ran through brambles, blooming thistle 
i washed my face in the river when you whistled me on. 

[woman:] darling dear, what hav eyou done? 
your hands and face are smeared with blood. 

[daughter:] the chaplain came and called me out 
to beat and to butcher his mother's sow 

[woman:] but darling dear, they found him dead 
this morning on the riverbed. 

but hush now darling, don't you cry. 
your reward's in the sweet by-and -by. 
hush now baby, don't you cry. 
your reward's in the sweet by-and-by. 

[crone:] and now we've seen your powers 
softly stretch the hours 
you're a fickle little twister 
are you sweet on your sister? 
as now you go wandering home.