Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Reaper and Tam McCorty , by - The Rumjacks. Release date: 05.02.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Reaper and Tam McCorty |
| Tam he woke tae find a shadow by the bed |
| Blamed it on the vapors still beleaguerin' his head |
| Scrubbed his chops & dragged an oily bug rake through his hair |
| And wiped the mirror tae find the bogey mimickin' his stare |
| He boilt the jug tae quench his mug & baked a lump o' toast |
| Hid behind the racin' pages from the hoary ghost |
| «Awfy ghostie if yer here tae make me dead |
| Spare me life & bother me wife or Mother-in-law instead!» |
| «Tam McCorty I’m not here to make you cry |
| I know youre just a broken man wi' longing in his eye |
| I’ll say my say & go my way a-carving through the rye |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die.» |
| «By the way ye’ve hung yer tools o' trade & mantle I can tell |
| Ye willnae leave until ye’ve seen me safely intae hell |
| So follow me down the 'Horse & Crown' of liquor I’m sae fond |
| I’ll drink meself tae death & haunt the witches from beyond.» |
| «Tam McCorty I’m not here to make you cry |
| I know youre just a broken man wi' longing in his eye |
| I’ll say my say & go my way a-carving through the rye |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die.» |
| They drank to fallen heroes, they spat & cursed the Queen |
| They argued o’er 'Black Caviar' - The finest ever seen? |
| They smoked cigars & played at cards for pots o' Gilbeys Gin |
| Roarin' as the fiery liqour, it spilled all down their chin |
| «Tam McCorty I’m not here to make you cry |
| I know youre just a broken man wi' longing in his eye |
| I’ll say my say & go my way a-carving through the rye |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die.» |
| They staggered home along the tracks & pissed against a post |
| The dogs a' barkin' madly, all as though they’d seen a ghost |
| «Oh take me now I beg you, pick yer mark & pick it well |
| I’m tired o' livin' & there I think I hear the hounds o' HELL!» |
| «Tam McCorty I’m not here to make you cry |
| I know youre just a broken man wi' longing in his eye |
| I’ll say my say & go my way a-carving through the rye |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die.» |
| Death threw his cloak across him where he passed out in his chair |
| And whispered in a frosty tone directly in his ear |
| «Best you learn to live again, forgive yerself yer past |
| For when you see me next Tam, it’ll be your last.» |
| «Tam McCorty I’m not here to make you cry |
| I know youre just a broken man wi' longing in his eye |
| I’ll say my say & go my way a-carving through the rye |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die.» |
| «Tam McCorty I’m not here to make you cry |
| I know youre just a broken man wi' longing in his eye |
| I’ll say my say & go my way a-carving through the rye |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die |
| Tam McCorty, its not your day to die.» |