Andy Smythe: Music

• MP3 short clip, hi-fi play (broadband)

A song about growing up in my native Shropshire.

Hanging off bridges by our finger tips
Sugar spit on our lips
The sun in our eyes the wind in our face
Rode those lanes in a daredevil race
Lit a fire swore through the smoke
Our den neath the hollow oak
Spilled the beer bitter sweet
Til we couldn’t stand on our feet

Hurling stones at the railway track
We came under sudden attack
Got hit right between the eyes
Red mist sending me blind
So I charged like a son of a bitch
The rage locked in my fist
Threw a punch right on his nose
Oh how he screamed and crowed

Remember being in our gang
The smoking and the slang
Remember being in our gang
How we swore and sang
Oh those long lost summer nights
They’re never coming back

Roamed the woods with a ferret and sack
Broke the rabbits necks with a crack
Saw the life drain from their eyes
Won’t forget the squeal of their cries
The birds flew their nests with fright
Swarmed in the dying light
There blew a cursing wind
We ran repenting our sins