I heaved a cutlass, in the salt marsh.
Other echoes inhabit the garden.
(Should we follow?)
Six hands at an open door,
Dicing for silver.
T.S.! T.S.! T.S., I know you are the one.
There will be time to murder and create,
While Sweeney guards the horned gate.
Below the boarhound, and the boar,
With feet kicking the empty wineskins,
Driven on the winds, that sweep the gloomy hills of London.
Gathered on the beach of the tumid river!
T.S.! T.S.! T.S., I know you are the one.
There will be time to murder and create,
While Sweeney guards the horned gate.
Other echoes inhabit the garden.
(Should we follow?)
Six hands at an open door,
Dicing for silver.
There will be time to murder and create,
While Sweeney guards the horned gate.
With feet kicking the empty wineskins,
Driven on the winds, that sweep the gloomy hills of London.
Gathered on the beach of the tumid river!
There will be time to murder and create,
While Sweeney guards the horned gate.
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This is one of my favorite Brew Dogs songs of all time. It has a great feeling to it.