| Three mules came over a hill
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| They were dragging a cart
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| Creaking, it seemed to be falling apart
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| Laden with millions of dreams
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| It weighed more than they thought
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| They never noticed the wheels getting caught
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| They pulled on, staring ahead
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| With blinkered eyes and lowered heads
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| Hoping that all would be fine
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| I see them now
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| Time out of time
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| Ramsey and Stanley and Neville
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| Were the names of the mules
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| Each wore a bridle encrusted with jewels
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| And though a murmur of voices
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| Was rising behind
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| Each laboured on And they paid it no mind
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| They pulled on with never a doubt
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| Past boulders and holes
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| Till the road petered out
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| And giving a snort they sat down
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| Waiting for somebody else to come round
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| And from this are our lives writ large
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| From the beach at Dunkirk
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| To Pickett’s Charge
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| And it’s hard to go back
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| after coming this far
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| Down the road
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| Three mules looked over a fence
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| At the field beyond
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| Green as a forest it shone in the sun
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| Into the stillness they broke
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| Like a stone in a pond
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| And kicking the gate down
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| They brayed at the ground
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| And pulled on tugging a dream
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| Out of a smile and into a scream
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| And tossed the damp soil all around
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| Until the whole field turned muddy brown
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| And from this are our lives writ large
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| From the beach at Dunkirk
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| To Pickett’s Charge
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| And it’s hard to go back
|
| after coming this far
|
| Down the road
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| Ah, but it’s not very easy now being a mule
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| I don’t believe you appreciate all that we do Look at this long and unfortunate face
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| Try to imagine that you’re in my place
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| This is my nature
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| And to it I have to be true
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| Three mules came over a hill
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| With a sorrowful air
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| Though we’ve been judged, they said
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| It’s hardly fair
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| All that we did was for you
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| And the good of the cause
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| Then they went back to the sound of applause
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| They went back into the night
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| Where a sickle of moon
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| Left a trickle of light
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| And while we lay under our roofs
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| The whole night filled up With the beating of hooves
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| And from this are our lives writ large
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| From the beach at Dunkirk
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| To Pickett’s Charge
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| And it’s hard to go back
|
| after coming this far
|
| Down the road
|
| And from this are our lives writ large
|
| And every day
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| Is Pickett’s Charge
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| And it’s hard to go back
|
| after coming this far
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| Down the road |