歌词
I'll give you a song about Edward The Young,
Lived in the day by the might of his tongue,
Working his words in the markets of song,
Never dividing the right from the wrong.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Broke every promise he profited from.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Never remaining to reap what would come.
He traveled the world on mountain & sea,
Spending his riches as soon as could be,
Eating the finest of flesh & of vine,
Drinking of many a better man's wine,
Wiping his chin on the finest of sleeves,
But never misjudging the moment to leave.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
People would swear he was lucky or dumb.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Always too late would they see what he'd done.
For many a year lived he in this way,
Never a landlord or bill did he pay,
Til some fateful judgment did Edward befall,
& this is the tale I'll relate to you all.
It was in the summer just after the war,
With all of the sailors returning to shore,
& Edward was neatly ensconced & ensnared,
In love & in debt of a war widow's care.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Sooner or later 'twas sure bound to come.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
This is the way that his way was undone.
Her name was Lucia, she lived in the town,
& thinking her husband was deep underground,
She opened her cupboards & opened her thighs,
That wily young Edward might eat what's inside.
Her offer he took for a good many weeks,
But then early one morning the hallway did creak,
& there in the dark of the bed chamber's door
Stood the tall form of her man from the war.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Back from the war did his reckoning come.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Caught with another man's wife on his tongue.
"My husband Rudolfo", did Lucia cry.
"I thought in the trenches of France did you die."
But answer her not did the man in the door,
but turned his attention to Ed on the floor.
He said, "For many a year I have fought in the war,
& after the armistice came back to shore.
Returning to tend to my false hearted wife,
I planned to resign her the rest of my life.
But now you have taken my wife in my bed,
& so I will leave you with her in my stead.
But I'll make you this promise: that e're you should leave
The side of Lucia, your manhood I'll cleave.”
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Seems that his race has been finally run.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
All of his rambling days are now done.
& so Edward lives in her house to this day,
Working & slaving his whole life away,
No longer roaming, no longer free,
Til Edward will deadwardly finally be.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Now that his ladder has run out of rungs.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
He would be pleased that his song is still sung.
My name is Lucia, the wife in that song.
You may not remember, I wasn't there long.
I spoke but a word & then nevermore
& functioned therein more or less as a whore:
Partly a lover, partly a wife,
But never allotted a brain or a life.
So much is expected, for when women are writ
By the hand of a man they aren't more than a tit,
To feed on, to fight for, to bind & betray
To dream of, & flee from, with nothing to say.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Typical man in a typical song.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Punished for keeping a woman too long.
If women must serve as a mere conduit
For men to relate to each other, I quit.
So finish the story of Edward alone,
I'll head off & write me a song of my own.
Lucia's free, Lucia's free,
Out from beneath all you misogyny.
Lucia's free, Lucia's free,
Tired of being a male fantasy.
But this is all bullshit, this woman's complaint,
Writ by a man who is far from a saint.
He thought he could cleverly rewrite his wrongs
By refusing to end this ridiculous song.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Thinly disguising my own mother's son.
Edward The Young, Edward The Young,
Now is the time when the song's really done.
专辑信息