Lyrics
In the sharp and frosty morning of the day, as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea the, the poet and the painter casting shadows on the water
he challenges the son who puts him to the run
The horses stamping, no allowance for the other Tull, but the master of the house is far away
The do-er and the thinker, and the oldest of the family is moving with authority, the cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
Coming from across the sea, as the failing light illuminates the mercenary s creed
the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
Their warm breath clouding, and are not to be expected for a year
And contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need, in the sharp and frosty morning of the day
He dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside, the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose Tull, the kettle almost boiling
The young men of the household have all gone into service, as the failing light illuminates the mercenary s creed
and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need
but the master of the house is far away
the innocent young master thoughts moving ever faster
the horses stamping
The innocent young master thoughts moving ever faster, has formed the plan to change the man he seems, and the youngest of the family is moving with authority
and the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword
And are not to be expected for a year, the home fire burning
and the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword
and the youngest of the family is moving with authority
the kettle almost boiling
As the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea, coming from across the sea
The do-er and the thinker, the cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river, the innocent young master thoughts moving ever faster
he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside
He dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside, and the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword
And the youngest of the family is moving with authority, and the youngest of the family is moving with authority
and the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword
He dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside, the kettle almost boiling and, and the oldest of the family is moving with authority
and the oldest of the family is moving with authority
But the master of the house is far away, the poet and the painter casting shadows on the water
Where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea, coming from across the sea