неділю, 21 червня 2015 р.

Summer. Corb Lund and the Hurtin' Albertans - Horse Soldier! Horse Soldier! Cover - My Saddle Horse Has Died

Захоплюючий життепис кавалерістів від канадського фолк-кантри.
Офіційна сторінка http://corblund.com/




I'm a hussar, I'm a Hun, I'm a wretched Englishman
Routing Bonaparte at Waterloo
I'm a dragoon on a dun, I'm a Cossack on the run
I'm a horse soldier, timeless, through and through
Im a horse soldier, eternal, through and through
I's with Custer and the 7th in 76 or 77
Scalped at Little Big Horn by the Sioux
And the tears and devistation of a once proud warrior nation
This I know cause I was riding with them too
I drank mare's blood on the run when I rode with the Great Khan
On the frozen Mongol steppe while at his height
I's a White Guard, I's a Red Guard, I's the Tsar's own palace horse guard
When Romanov was murdered in the night
I knew Salah al-Din and rode his swift Arabians
Harassing doomed crusaders on their heavy drafts
And yet I rode the Percheron against the circling Saracen
And once again against myself was cast
Well I've worn the Mounties crimson, if you're silent and you listen
You'll know that it was with them that I stood
When Mayerthorpe, she cried, as her four horsemen died
Gunned down in scarlet, coldest blood
I's the firstest with the mostest when I fought for Bedford Forrest
Suffered General Wilson's Union raid
Mine was not to reason why, mine was but to do or die
At Crimea with the charging light brigade
On hire from Swiss or Sweden, be me Christian, be me heathen
The devil to the sabre I shall put
With a crack flanking maneuver, I'm an uhlan alles uber
Striking terror into regiment afoot
I knew my days were numbered when oer the trenches lumbered
More modern machinations de la guerre
No match for rapid fire or the steel birds of the sky
With a final rear guard action I retreat
No match for barbered wire or the armoured engines' whine
Reluctant I retire and take my leave
Today I ride with special forces on those wily Afghan horses
Dostums Northern Alliance give their thanks
No matter defeat or victory, in battle it occurs to me
That we may see a swelling in our ranks
Is with the Aussies at Beersheba took the wells so badly needed
And with the Polish lancers charging German tanks
Saw Ross' mount shot down at Washingtown the night we burned the White House down
And cursed the sack of York and sons of Yanks


My saddle horse has died and no one was in time
To save him or to reach me with the news that I'm without a mount to ride
My saddle horse has died
My saddle horse has died and no one can provide
The slightest bit of reason to encourage me to go on with this life
My saddle horse has died
My saddle horse has died and with him goes my pride
For without a charging steed beneath me I can hardly call myself a knight
My saddle horse has died
My saddle horse has died
My saddle horse has died and I am sick inside
With thoughts of armies infidel attacking when I cannot join the fight
My saddle horse has died and I am sick inside
With thoughts of heathen victories unfolding when I have been left behind
My saddle horse has died