Jethro Tull - Heavy Horses

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INTRO
 
CAPO 3 FRET
 
Bm
Em C
D GIron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust
C
D Dsus4
G
 
An October's day, towards evening
Em
C
D G
 
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough
 
C D
Dsus4 G
 
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
 
Em C
D G
 
Last of the line at an honest day's toil
 
C D
Dsus4 G
 
Turning the deep sod under
 
Em C
D G
 
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
 
C D
Dsus4 G
 
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
 
C
D
G C
 
The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron vie
 
Am
D Dsus4 Em
 
with the Shire on his feathers floating
 
C
D G
C
 
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
 
C D
Dsus4 G
 
to bed on a warm straw coating.
 
F#7 Bm G Bm
G A
 
Heavy Horses, move the land under me
 
F#7 Bm
G Bm
G A
 
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
 
F#7 G
D
 
Now you're down to the few
 
 
Bb F
 
And there's no work to Do
 
C
Em D Bm
 
The tractor's on its way.
 
 
Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
 
to keep the old line going.
 
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood
 
behind the young trees growing
 
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
 
and your 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.
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 wood
 
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
 
to 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.
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