Heavy horses

Em        C             D       
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding 
     G
the dust
      C       D           Dsus4  G
An October's day, towards evening
Em              C             D 
Sweat embossed veins standing 
           G
proud to the plough
  C       D           Dsus4  G
Salt on a deep chest seasoning
Em        C             D       
Last of the line at an honest 
     G
day's toil
C       D           Dsus4  G
Turning the deep sod  under
Em        C             D       
Flint at the fetlock, chasing 
     G
the bone
C       D            Dsus4  G
Flies at the nostrils plunder.
      C           D              
The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the 
G           C
Percheron vie
           Am             D      
  with the Shire on his feathers 
Dsus4  Em
floating
 C           D     G           C
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
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    C       D            Dsus4  G
  to bed on a warm straw coating.
F#7  Bm    G Bm        G      
Heavy Horses, move the land 
      A
under me
F#7  Bm                   G Bm 
  Behind the plough gliding ---
             G           A
 slipping and sliding free
F#7         G           D
Now you're down to the few
            Bb          F
And there's no work to do
          C  Em        D  Bm
The tractor's on its way.


Let me find you a filly for your 
proud stallion seed
  to keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the 
back of the wood
  behind the young trees growing
To hide you from eyes that mock at 
your girth,
  and your eighteen hands at the 
shoulder
And one day when the oil barons have
 all dripped dry
  and the nights are seen to draw 
colder
They'll beg for your strength, your 
gentle power
  your noble grace and your bearing
And you'll strain once again to the 
sound of the gulls
  in the wake of the deep plough, 
sharing.

Standing like tanks on the brow of 
the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to 
the world
Against the low sun racing
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.

Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
  across these acres glistening
  like dew on a carpet lawn
In these dark towns folk lie 
sleeping
  as the heavy horses thunder by
  to wake the dying city
  with the living horseman's cry
At once the old hands quicken ---
  bring pick and wisp and curry comb
 ---
  thrill to the sound of all
  the heavy horses coming home.