Heavy Horses - Live at Madison Square Garden; 2009 Remaster

Iron-clad, feather-feet pounding the dust
 On October? s day, towards evening
 Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
 Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
 Last of the line at an honest day? s toil
 Turning the deep sod under
 Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
 Flies at the nostrils plunder
 The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie
 With the shire on his feathers, floating
 Hauling soft timber into the dusk
 To bed on a warm straw coating
 Heavy horses move the land under me
 Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free
 And now you? re down to the few and there? s no work to do
 The tractor? s on its way
 Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seeds
 To keep the old line going
 And we? ll stand you abreast at the back of the woods
 Behind the young trees growing
 To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth
 You? re eighteen hands at the shoulder
 And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
 And the nights are seen to draw colder
 They? ll beg for your strength, your gentle power
 Your noble grace and your bearing
 And you? ll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
 In the wake of the deep plough, sharing
 Heavy horses move the land under me
 Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free
 And now you? re down to the few and there? s no work to do
 The tractor? s on its way
 Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
 Up into the cold wind facing
 In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
 Against the low sun racing
 Bring me a wheel of oaken woods
 A rein of polished leather
 A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
 Brewing heavy weather
 Bring a song for the evening
 Clean brass to flash the dawn
 Across these acres glistening
 Like dew on a carpet lawn
 In these dark towns, folk lie sleeping
 As the heavy horses thunder by
 So wake the dying city
 With the living horseman? s cry
 At once the old hands quicken
 Bring pick and wisp and curry comb
 Thrill to the sound of all the
 Heavy horses coming home
 Iron-clad, feather-feet pounding the dust
 On October? s day, towards evening
 Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
 Salt on a deep chest, seasoning
 Bring me a wheel of oaken woods
 A rein of polished leather
 A heavy horse and the tumbling sky
 Brewing heavy weather
 Heavy horses move the land under me
 Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free
 And now you? re down to the few and there? s no work to do
 The tractor? s on its way
 Oh, heavy horses move the land under me
 Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free
 And now you? re down to the few and there? s no work to do
 The tractor? s on its way
 Oh, heavy horses move the land under me
 Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free
 And now you? re down to the few and there? s no work to do
 The tractor? s on its way
 Now heavy horses move the land under me
 Behind the plough gliding, slipping and sliding free