A Pict Song

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Текст, перевод и аккорды “A Pict Song”
Rome never looks where she treads Always her heavy hooves fall On our stomachs, our hearts and our heads And rome never hears when we bawl Her sentries pass on -- that is all And we gather behind them in hordes And plot to reconquer the wall With only our tongues for our swords For we are the little folk -- we! Too little to love or to hate Leave us alone and youll see That we can bring down the state Mistletoe killing an oak Rats gnawing cables in two Moths making holes in a cloak How they must love what they do! Yes -- and we little folk too We are as busy as they Working our works out of view Watch, and youll see it some day No indeed! we are not strong But we know of peoples that are Yes and well guide them along To smash and destroy you in war We shall be slaves just the same? Yes, we have always been slaves But you -- you will die of the shame And then we will dance on your graves We are the worm in the wood! We are the rot at the root! We are the taint in the blood! We are the thorn in the foot! Rudyard kipling

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