Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Graveyard Of The Outcast Dead, artist - Frank Turner. Album song No Man's Land, in the genre Иностранная авторская песня
Date of issue: 15.08.2019
Record label: Xtra Mile
Song language: English
The Graveyard Of The Outcast Dead |
They buried my body on Christmas |
In the ground by the south river bank |
Worked to my death, for my very last breath |
I’d the Winchester bishops to thank |
Now the church held the keys to the brothel |
Lit the window with a burning red light |
While I teased the funds from the pockets of johns |
The bishop got rich in the night |
But I didn’t fall apart |
Through my years in the dark |
For my lover I guarded |
My pure, pure heart |
And he meets me in the graveyard |
The graveyard where they made my bed |
Plants a white flower under cold stars |
On the grave of the forgotten dead |
Now the bishops snuck off to fresh pastures |
While my grave was grown over with weeds |
No burial plots, just some forget-me-nots |
For the women they branded unclean |
The wasteland was claimed by the city |
They covered it with tenement slums |
For where we’d been left had never been blessed |
And they dug down and built on our bones |
But every December |
With frost on his fingers |
My lover returns |
For he still remembers |
To meet me in the graveyard |
The graveyard where they made my bed |
Plants a white flower under cold stars |
On the grave of the forgotten dead |
The sun goes down and the last folk leave |
It’s London Town on Christmas Eve |
My lover still wanders bereft and bereaved |
For he can’t find the woman that he promised he’d meet |
The sun comes up on the cold, cold ground |
It’s Christmas morning in London Town |
He lays on my grave and he cradles his head |
As he hears the church bells, he knows that I’m dead |
So London, don’t mourn for your lovers |
Raise a glass for us glorious dead |
For beneath Southwark streets, we outlasted the priests |
And the city’s raised up on our beds |
Though we’re gone, London, do not forget |
To meet us on Christmas |
In the graveyard where they made our bed |
Plant a white flower for the outcasts |
On the graves of the forgotten dead |
Oh to meet us on Christmas |
In the graveyard where they made our bed |
Plant a white flower for the outcasts |
On the graves of the forgotten dead |
In the Graveyard of the Outcast Dead |