Testo Snowdrops - Orlando Weeks
Testo della canzone Snowdrops (Orlando Weeks), tratta dall'album The Gritterman
Oh, I must have dropped off
Look at that, eleven o'clock
Time to get ready
I've all the usual stuff
Thermals, jumper, scarf
The cat was me dad's
I don't bother with gloves anymore
I only lose 'em
If you find a lonely glove on a railing
More likely than not, that's one of mine
Now these are my easy to put on
Nightmare to take off
Double thick waterproof waders
The right one is fantastic
This other one however
Has a hole in the heel
I've patched it with countless puncture repair kits
But I still get a soggy foot every night
I know what you're thinking
Time for a new pair
But I can't just splash out on wellies
Right, am I ready?
Lights off, heaters off, cookers off, telly's off
Locked shed, cat's fed
Well, what the cat actually is rhymes with fed
Anyhow, locked shed, cat's fed
Hot water bottle's in bed
Thermos of soup, thermos of tea
What am I forgetting?
The van key
That was Joy's line
Off we go
Here she is
Talk about Lars legs
I wouldn't buy her
But I wouldn't sell her either
She's a single seater in questionable condition
With mossy window sealants
Rusty skirting and a dink on the left wheel arch
That's exactly the same shape as Scotland
On the plus side
When the windscreen wipers are going full pelt
They make the most beautiful waffapping sound
Like geese wings on take off
Once more down to the beach, dear friend
This door's iced over again
It just needs a bit of a kick
Stubborn thing
There we go, we're in
Right, time for a swansong
Fingers crossed
First time
Never happens
Hold tight
Carefully does it through the gears
Couple of notches
Ready on the handbrake
Keep it nice and steady
I'm really opening her out now
See, this may seem slow
But believe me
There's an optimum gritting speed that mustn't be rushed
To do a thoroughly good job
A job must be done thoroughly
I suppose I could talk you through the salt ratios
I've got in the barrels
But life's too short
I will say though that it's good stuff
Mined from the ancient seabeds of Cheshire
That's it, it's all salt under Cheshire
The Romans were at it
No doubt to grit the roads that they were building
And the Victorians, they mined so much of it
That the earth started sinking
Houses would just disappear into the ground
Whole fields sucked under overnight
In these blue black hours
Time disappears
It slips away completely
Or freezes in the headlights
I can feel it slipping
You might think you see less working nights
But I disagree
Out here I swear I see great white bears
Disappearing down cul-de-sacs
And narwhals trailing each other up and down the ditches
I've seen angels in cherry trees
Fallen stars on the motorway roundabouts
See how the full beams light up the falling snow
All those tiny white flakes so bright
They could be stars
Or plankton
Nicer to think of it as gritting through space
Rather than dredging the North Atlantic
I'm a roving little night worm
With two pale antennas
Chewing my way through the infinite blue
Credits
Writer(s): Orlando Thomas Weeks
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