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Heavy Horses 

Em        C             D            G 
Iron-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. 
words and music by  IAN ANDERSON