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Download Heavy Horses by Jethro Tull

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Jethro Tull Heavy Horses lyrics

Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust, an 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
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 seed, 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, 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.

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 wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.

Heavy horses, move the land under me
Behind the plough gliding --- slipping and sliding free
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do
The tractor's on its way.