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The Rigs of the Time

anonimo
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La versione di Sandy Denny, da un concerto del 1972

RIGS OF THE TIME

No wonder that butter's a shilling a pound,
See those rich farmers' daughters how they ride up and down
If you ask them the reason they'll say, “Bon alas!
There is a French war, and the cows have no grass.”

Chorus (after each verse):
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.

Now here's to our landlord, I must bring him in,
Charges tuppence a pint and yet thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, the measure is short
And the top of the pint is all covered in froth.

And here's to the butcher, I must bring him in,
Charges four pence a pound and yet thinks it no sin.
Slaps his thumb on the scales and makes it go down
He declares it's full weight yet it lacks half a pound.

And here's to the baker, I must bring him in,
Charges a ha'penny a loaf and yet thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, it's no bigger than your fist
And the top of the loaf has popped off with the yeast.

Now here's to the tailor who skims with our clothes,
And here's to the cobbler who pinches our toes,
Our belly's all empty, our bodies are bare,
No wonder we've reason to curse and to swear.

Now the very best thing that I could find
Is to toss them all up in a high gale of wind.
When the wind it do blow, the balloon it would burst,
And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first.

RIGS OF THE TIME

It's of an old butcher, I must bring him in.
Charges four pence a pound, and thinks it no sin.
Puts his thumb on the scale which makes it go down,
And swears it's good weight yet it lacks half a pound.
All sing...

Chorus (after each verse):
Honesty 's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time
Time, me boys,
These are the rigs of the time

Now it's next to the baker, I must bring him in.
Charges tuppence a loaf and he thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, is not bigger than your fist,
And the top of the loaf is all covered in yeast
All sing...

Now it's next to the landlord, well I must bring him in.
Charges tuppence a pint and he thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, now the measure it is short
And the top of the pot it is all covered in froth.
All sing...

Now the best of all plans that comes to me mind
Is to set them all off in a high gale of wind
And when they go up, oh, the cloud it will burst
And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first
Singing...


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