Paroles de 'Buxton' par Tanglefoot

I take my fiddle to the tavern. Every friday night I play
Like that steamy summer evening down near buxton
The last stop on the underground - about a mile away
He came in slow and kind of cautious
He came in slow, with eyes all full of fear
Took a chair way down at the furthest table
I saw he held a fiddle, so rough and so severe

His eyes dropped to the table when I invited him to play
A fiddle tune for the crowded room
Cause I thought he'd want to celebrate
He said, this table looks like cherry, just like my violin
But it's all done up with polish
The likes of which I've never seen

Way, way back, can you remember
Way, way back to your childhood days
All the roughneck boys in the old schoolyard
How they pushed you down, never let you play?

Give those boys the weight of a rifle
Give those boys the weight of the law
Give them boys about three hundred years
To reckon this is the way things are

Then he struck down on his strings with such a vengeance
He all but strangled off the tune
Of some old reel meant to be far lighter
Done up so forceful on his instrument so crude

I said, son, why do you bend you bow so fiercely?
You should be happy now you're free
He dropped the fiddle from his chin and faced me
He said, sir, it's best you let my anger be

Forgive me if I'm edgy, but these fields outside your town
Look flat and burned just like the earth
Where the southern sun come beating down
I know it don't sound pretty, the way I bow you song
But if you want to hear how it grabs my ear
Then maybe you should play along

Then it felt like something took hold of my bow stroke
The moment I tried to play along
The beat began to echo like a footfall
His old boots stomped out gunshots
And his high strings wailed like hounds
Until the noise spooked a snowy mare outside the window
And the young man watched her bolt with widened eyes
We had horses just like that back in kentucky
White as a sheet against a burning midnight sky

He said, forgive me for the fury. Your fiddle plays so well
But even these are carved from trees growing just this side of hell
Forgive me for my fury. I'd lose it if I could
But a fiddle string ain't the only thing
I've seen strung up on cherry wood

Way, way back, can you remember
Way, way back to your childhood days
All the roughneck boys in the old schoolyard
How they pushed you down, never let you play?

Give those boys the weight of a rifle
Give those boys the weight of the law
Give them boys about three hundred years
To reckon this is the way things are

Way, way back, can you remember
Way, way back to your childhood days
All the roughneck boys in the old school yard
How they pushed you down, never let you play?

Give those boys the weight of a rifle
Give those boys about a ton of lead
Give them boys one devil of a passage
From a good book they have never read