Little Tim McGuire loved to play with fire
Always hated water, never used to wash
Loved the smell of burning, of bonfires burning
Loved to play all day with his little tinder box
He chased the sparks as they flew into the evening
Hailed the flash of lightening and the burning sun
When I'm a man then I'm going to be a fireman
Then I can light a fire for everyone
When he was four they dressed him in a uniform
Sent him to a school with iron railings all around
Hated the school and the rules and the railings
Took his little tinder box and burnt it to the ground
Oh how he laughed and danced in the firelight
Oh how he laughed as the flames leapt to the sky
When I'm a man I'm going to be a fireman
Keep a bonfire burning until the day I die
When McGuire grew older they made him wear a bowler
Set him to work in an office in the town
Hated the pens and the pins and the papers
Had just one ambition, to burn the office down
Little Tim McGuire loved to play with fire
Loved the blaze of roses and the golden grain
Loved the leaves of autumn, the red leaves of autumn
Loved a slender girl with a smile like a flame
The judge said at his trial, “Your behaviour has been vile
You're a menace to society though you may think you're big
You have to go to prison!” - and then, what a commotion
For smoke and fire were pouring from the judge's wig
Oh how he laughed and danced in the courtroom
We took him down, we locked him in the darkness of the cell
Never saw the sun nor heard the songbirds calling
Saw the prison bars and heard the prison bell
Then early one morning just as the day was dawning
A great wheel of fire spun skywards from the jail
The iron bars melted, the stone walls crumbled
No one in the prison lived to tell the tale
No one ever found Tim McGuire's little tinder box
No one ever found a trace of Tim McGuire
Perhaps he's up in heaven setting light to angels' halos
Perhaps he's down in hell dancing round the fire
Little Tim McGuire loved to play with fire
Loved the blaze of roses and the golden grain
Loved the leaves of autumn, the red leaves of autumn
Loved a slender girl with a smile like a flame…
Always hated water, never used to wash
Loved the smell of burning, of bonfires burning
Loved to play all day with his little tinder box
He chased the sparks as they flew into the evening
Hailed the flash of lightening and the burning sun
When I'm a man then I'm going to be a fireman
Then I can light a fire for everyone
When he was four they dressed him in a uniform
Sent him to a school with iron railings all around
Hated the school and the rules and the railings
Took his little tinder box and burnt it to the ground
Oh how he laughed and danced in the firelight
Oh how he laughed as the flames leapt to the sky
When I'm a man I'm going to be a fireman
Keep a bonfire burning until the day I die
When McGuire grew older they made him wear a bowler
Set him to work in an office in the town
Hated the pens and the pins and the papers
Had just one ambition, to burn the office down
Little Tim McGuire loved to play with fire
Loved the blaze of roses and the golden grain
Loved the leaves of autumn, the red leaves of autumn
Loved a slender girl with a smile like a flame
The judge said at his trial, “Your behaviour has been vile
You're a menace to society though you may think you're big
You have to go to prison!” - and then, what a commotion
For smoke and fire were pouring from the judge's wig
Oh how he laughed and danced in the courtroom
We took him down, we locked him in the darkness of the cell
Never saw the sun nor heard the songbirds calling
Saw the prison bars and heard the prison bell
Then early one morning just as the day was dawning
A great wheel of fire spun skywards from the jail
The iron bars melted, the stone walls crumbled
No one in the prison lived to tell the tale
No one ever found Tim McGuire's little tinder box
No one ever found a trace of Tim McGuire
Perhaps he's up in heaven setting light to angels' halos
Perhaps he's down in hell dancing round the fire
Little Tim McGuire loved to play with fire
Loved the blaze of roses and the golden grain
Loved the leaves of autumn, the red leaves of autumn
Loved a slender girl with a smile like a flame…
Contributed by Bernart Bartleby - 2016/2/25 - 13:05
×
![]()
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
Parole e musica di Leon Rosselson
Nel suo disco intitolato “Songs for Sceptical Circles” (1966) dove, fra l’altro, c’è una sua versione della N° 1 fra le CCG/AWS, Le déserteur di Boris Vian.
Testo trovato sul solito, ottimo Mudcat Café
Questa canzone, dedicata ad un immaginario inconforme, antiautoriatario e piromane, causò qualche problema all’autore. Scritta per il programma satirico televisivo “That Was the Week That Was”, ebbe subito una discreta notorietà, tanto che il capo dei pompieri dello Staffordshire denunciò Rosselson per “incitamento alla commissione di incendi” e chiese che la canzone fosse bandita dalle trasmissioni radiotelevisive. La protesta non ebbe seguito, la BBC non bandì la canzone, ma il produttore della trasmissione lamentò che si trattava di una canzone improponibile, brutta e infantile… Rosselson comunque non si fece intimidire e “Tim McGuire” rimase immutata, uno dei suoi maggiori successi e riproposta in molti dischi e raccolte successive.