Heavy Horses - Jethro Tull

Written by：Ian Anderson

Iron clad feather feet pounding the dust

On October's day towards evening

Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough

Salt on a deep chest seasoning

Last of the line at an honest day's toil

Turning the deep sod under

Flint at the fetlock chasing the bone

Flies at the nostrils plunder

The Suffolk the Clydesdale the Percheron vie

With the shire on his feathers floating

Hauling soft timber into the dusk

To bed on a warm straw coating

Heavy horses move the land under me

Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free

Now you're down to the few

And there's no work to do

The tractor's on it's 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 woods

Behind the young trees growing

To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth

You're 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

Heavy horses move the land under me

Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free

Now you're down to the few

And there's no work to do

The tractor's on it's way

Oh heavy horses move the land under me

Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free

Now you're down to the few

And there's no work to do

The tractor's on it's way

Oh heavy horses move the land under me

Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free