In days of old, so the story's told,
Of boys who went to sea,
All of seven, eight and nine years old they say,
To serve upon the warring ships, their captains and their kings,
To serve the purpose they still serve today,
To serve the purpose they still serve today.
To carry up the powder from the magazine below,
From a hold too dark and crowded for a man,
The called them Powder Monkies, every schoolchild ought to know,
The price we pay to keep a promised land,
The price we pay to keep a promised land.
Send for the Powder Monkey,
Send him down into the well,
Send for the Powder Monkey,
He'll fetch us a pail o' hell
To keep out cannon burnin'
He'll fall behind the gun,
We'll just send for a Powder Monkey,
'Cause there's more where he came from.
They come from the city sidewalks and
They come from the family farm,
To trust their fragile futures to the wind,
They come from the Land of Plenty,
Through the evergreens and corn,
With more to lose than all the angry men,
With more to lose than all the angry men.
Was it the hunger of the family,
Was it the anger of the street,
That drove a lonely child to Satan's door,
Where death was all but certain and
Damnation near complete,
Save all for the holy innocent ashore,
Save all the holy innocent ashore.
From high above the gun deck
Ring the orders of the realm,
To roll out a battle cadence on the drum,
As forward into darkness
Sail the cowards at the helm,
And they shoot the stars to see how far they've come,
Look at their sons to see how far they've come.
In days of old, so the story's told
Of boys who went to sea,
All of seven, eight and nine years old they say,
To serve upon the warring ships, their captains and their kings,
To serve the purpose they still serve today,
To serve the purpose they still serve today.
Of boys who went to sea,
All of seven, eight and nine years old they say,
To serve upon the warring ships, their captains and their kings,
To serve the purpose they still serve today,
To serve the purpose they still serve today.
To carry up the powder from the magazine below,
From a hold too dark and crowded for a man,
The called them Powder Monkies, every schoolchild ought to know,
The price we pay to keep a promised land,
The price we pay to keep a promised land.
Send for the Powder Monkey,
Send him down into the well,
Send for the Powder Monkey,
He'll fetch us a pail o' hell
To keep out cannon burnin'
He'll fall behind the gun,
We'll just send for a Powder Monkey,
'Cause there's more where he came from.
They come from the city sidewalks and
They come from the family farm,
To trust their fragile futures to the wind,
They come from the Land of Plenty,
Through the evergreens and corn,
With more to lose than all the angry men,
With more to lose than all the angry men.
Was it the hunger of the family,
Was it the anger of the street,
That drove a lonely child to Satan's door,
Where death was all but certain and
Damnation near complete,
Save all for the holy innocent ashore,
Save all the holy innocent ashore.
From high above the gun deck
Ring the orders of the realm,
To roll out a battle cadence on the drum,
As forward into darkness
Sail the cowards at the helm,
And they shoot the stars to see how far they've come,
Look at their sons to see how far they've come.
In days of old, so the story's told
Of boys who went to sea,
All of seven, eight and nine years old they say,
To serve upon the warring ships, their captains and their kings,
To serve the purpose they still serve today,
To serve the purpose they still serve today.
Contributed by Alessandro - 2009/9/20 - 18:59
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Album "The First Ten Years"
Una canzone dedicata ai "powder monkeys", le "scimmiette delle polveri", come erano chiamati i bambini anche di soli 7 o 8 anni che per tutto il 16°, 18° e 19° secolo vennero impiegati sulle navi da guerra, in piena battaglia, per approvvigionare di polvere da sparo le batterie dei cannoni.