The Dancing Did - Wolves Of Worcestershire | Текст песни

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• The Dancing Did
• Wolves Of Worcestershire

In a grassy cove off a lonely road,
Some travellers made their stop.
Five caravans stuck like warts on a toad,
In a hedgerow parking lot.
A silver moon lay overhead,
The ground around it shone,
As their camp fires and portable T. V.s flickered,
Then expired one by one by one by one by one. .
Suddenly into the night,
There comes a sound primeval. .
A baying screeching scraping sound
Of undiluted evil.
Travellers wake and wet themselves,
Their dogs bark to the night,
Though they know not what lurks in those fields,
Heard but out of sight.
Wolves the wolves of Worcestershire,
Striking fear, striking fear.
Wolves the wolves of Worcestershire,
Striking fear into the hearts,
Of the denizens of those deserted parts.
Retired judges tremble
From inside rose clad bungalows.
Fruit picker vigilantes
Stand picking strawberries on their toes.
All around this ancient shire,
The local people live and cower.
(The Villager’s Refrain)
‘Never walk in woods alone,
When evening comes don’t ever roam.
Little children have been known
To be eaten up and left as bones
On their way home from school.
So bar your windows, bolt your homes
And never never never never
Never never never never
Never never never never
Never never never never
Walk in woods in Worcestershire alone.’
Foxes in the suburbs, squirrels in the parks,
Starlings in the mausoleums,
swallows in the dark,
Battles in the belfry,
buckshot in the deer,
Weevils in the windmills
...and wolves in Worcestershire.


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