When we're working nights, the village round
the old church becomes scary town.
All curtained windows and bolted doors
but never a eye to see
as us fairy folks sweep from the hill.
Never caught us and never will.
Pulling roses and daffodils
mayhem in the high degree.
The blacksmith chased us all to ground.
They searched all night we were never found.
The tinker boys and the sheriff's men
shaking the tallest tree.
And we sat and watched the women hide.
Laughed so much we split our sides.
Scattered horses that they would ride
mayhem in the high degree.
We crossed through fields of midnight green
often heard but seldom seen.
Tore along hedges,stripping leaves
no-one could quite agree
whether we came from north or south.
We stole the screams from out their mouths
and go where no man would allow
mayhem in the high degree.
Like scaly carp and feathered swan
to nature's world we do belong.
We ride the thin winds of the night
and set dark spirits free.
We terrify the mare and foal.
The fox stood still and far too bold.
So we strung him up, brush neatly folded;
mayhem, maybe.
Good morning, gentlemen. Why the uneasy frowns?
Too much everything and I can't recall. Did I let you down?
Nobody will answer me. Makes me feel that I want to die.
My mind is inclined to lie.
Oh no, think I did it last night again.
Oh no, been out on the overhang again.
My hotel room was a battleground.
How did I find my way?
My wallet's gone and my jacket's torn.
My memory's a hazy grey.
Do I seem to remember now, two creatures about eight feet tall?
No safety net to break my fall.
Oh no, must have done it last night again.
Oh no, crawled out on the overhang again.
Been out on the overhang.
Been out on the overhang.
Watching demons and spirits glide.
Heading out to the nearest star.
Better lead me back to the bar.
Oh no, might do it tonight again.
Oh no, crawled out on the overhang again.
Been out on the overhang.
Crawling out on the overhang.
Been out on the overhang.
Out on the overhang.
Out of the overhang.
There was a warm wind with the high tide on the south of the hill.
When a young girl went a-walking and I followed with a will.
"Good day to you, my fine young lady, with your lips so sweetly full.
May I help you comb your long hair, sweep it from that brow so cool?''
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.
Well I'm a man when I'm feeling the urge to step ashore.
So I may charm you not alarm you. Tell you all fine things, and more.
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.
Say goodbye to all your dear kin for they hate to see you go
in your young prime, to this place of mine in the still loch far below.
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.
Up, ride with the kelpie.
I'll steal your soul to the deep.
If you don't ride with me while the devil's free
I'll ride with somebody else.
The bone's in the china. The fat's in the fire.
There's no turkey left on the table.
The commuter's return on the six o'clock flyer
brings no bale of hay for the stable.
Well, the light, it is failing along the green belt
as we follow the hard road signs.
Semi-detached in our suburban-ness
we're living in these hard times.
Well the fly's in the milk and the cat's in the stew.
Another bun in the oven oh, what to do?
We'll laugh and we'll sing and try to bring
a pound from your pocket.
Good day to you.
Oh, these hard times.
The politicians sat on the wall
and traded with the union game.
Someone slapped a writ on our deficit
not a penny left to our name.
Oh, the times are hard and the credits lean,
and they toss and they turn in sleep.
And the line they take is the line they make
but it's not the line they keep.
Well the fly's in the milk and the cat's in the stew.
Another bun in the oven oh, what to do?
We'll laugh and we'll sing and try to bring
a pound from your pocket.
Good day to you.
Oh, these hard times.
The cow jumped over yesterday's moon
and the lock ran away with the key.
You know what you like, and you like what you know
but there is no jam for tea.
Well the light it is failing along the green belt
as we follow the hard road signs.
Semi-detached in our suburban-ness
we're living in these hard times.
Well the fly's in the milk and the cat's in the stew.
Another bun in the oven oh, what to do?
We'll laugh and we'll sing and try to bring
a pound from your pocket.
Good day to you.
Oh, these hard times.
We're living in these hard times.
Keep it quiet. (Go slow.)
Circulate. Need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file
masquerade, but well worth while.
Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Wear an air (keep mum)
of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
about your usual business.
Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.
Under wraps!
I'll tell you when (not yet)
soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! Upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.
Wrapped in the warmth of you
wrapped in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.
Under wraps! I've got you under wraps.
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Introduction 
