The Fire Sermon, Part 2
๐ต 2858 characters
โฑ๏ธ 5:42 duration
๐ ID: 24069713
๐ Lyrics
[automatic transliteration, may contain errors]
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronising kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smooths her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
'This music crept by me upon the waters'
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Rippled both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
'Trams and dusty trees.
Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.'
'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
Under my feet. After the event
He wept. He promised a 'new start.'
I made no comment. What should I resent?'
'On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
My people humble people who expect
Nothing.'
la la
To Carthage then I came
Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest
burning
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows one final patronising kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smooths her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.
'This music crept by me upon the waters'
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Rippled both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala
'Trams and dusty trees.
Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.'
'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
Under my feet. After the event
He wept. He promised a 'new start.'
I made no comment. What should I resent?'
'On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
My people humble people who expect
Nothing.'
la la
To Carthage then I came
Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest
burning
โฑ๏ธ Synced Lyrics
[01:35.08]A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
[01:39.33] One of the low on
[01:40.74] One of the low on whom assurance sits
[01:44.20]As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
[01:47.01]The time is now propitious - propitious - propitious, as he guesses,
[01:52.98]The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
[01:55.94]Endeavours to engage her in caresses
[01:58.88]Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
[02:02.02]Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
[02:05.58]Exploring hands encounter no defence;
[02:09.26]His vanity requires no response,
[02:12.54]And makes a welcome of indifference.
[02:15.95](And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
[02:19.75]Enacted on this same divan or bed;
[02:22.90]I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
[02:25.70]And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
[02:31.18]Bestows one final patronising kiss,
[02:34.44]And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
[02:38.56]
[02:40.48]She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
[02:43.47]Hardly aware of her departed lover;
[02:46.46]Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
[02:50.88]'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
[02:54.55]When lovely woman stoops to folly and
[02:58.21]Paces about her room again, alone,
[03:01.33]She smooths her hair with automatic hand,
[03:05.03]And puts a record on the gramophone.
[03:08.17]gramophone.
[03:08.93]
[03:10.08]'This music crept by me upon the waters'
[03:13.02]And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
[03:17.12]O City city, I can sometimes hear
[03:20.56]Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
[03:23.98]The pleasant whining of a mandoline
[03:26.03]And a clatter and a chatter from within
[03:29.01]Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
[03:33.22]Of Magnus Martyr hold
[03:35.72]Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
[03:40.92]
[03:42.18] The river sweats
[03:43.85] Oil and tar
[03:45.19] The barges drift
[03:46.54] With the turning tide
[03:48.29] Red sails
[03:49.39] Wide
[03:50.15] To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
[03:52.89] The barges wash
[03:54.76] Drifting logs
[03:55.86] Down Greenwich reach
[03:57.17] Past the Isle of Dogs.
[04:00.00] Weialala leia
[04:02.19] Wallala leialala
[04:04.65]
[04:05.23] Elizabeth and Leicester
[04:07.22] Beating oars
[04:08.49] The stern was formed
[04:09.64] A gilded shell
[04:10.98] Red and gold
[04:12.41] The brisk swell
[04:14.13] Rippled both shores
[04:15.80] Southwest wind
[04:16.94] Carried down stream
[04:18.43] The peal of bells
[04:20.62] White towers
[04:22.48] Weialala leia
[04:24.73] Wallala leialala
[04:27.11]
[04:28.16]'Trams and dusty trees.
[04:31.36]Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
[04:34.72]Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
[04:39.32]Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.'
[04:42.59]
[04:44.23]'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
[04:47.71]Under my feet. After the event
[04:50.63]He wept. He promised a 'new start.'
[04:54.26]I made no comment. What should I resent?'
[04:57.43]
[04:59.53]'On Margate Sands.
[05:02.09]I can connect
[05:03.33]Nothing with nothing.
[05:05.13]The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
[05:08.86]My people humble people who expect
[05:11.26]Nothing.'
[05:12.68] la la
[05:13.96]
[05:15.38]To Carthage then I came
[05:17.49]
[05:18.61]Burning burning burning burning
[05:21.41]O Lord Thou pluckest me out
[05:23.21]O Lord Thou pluckest
[05:25.46]
[05:25.99]burning
[01:39.33] One of the low on
[01:40.74] One of the low on whom assurance sits
[01:44.20]As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
[01:47.01]The time is now propitious - propitious - propitious, as he guesses,
[01:52.98]The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
[01:55.94]Endeavours to engage her in caresses
[01:58.88]Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
[02:02.02]Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
[02:05.58]Exploring hands encounter no defence;
[02:09.26]His vanity requires no response,
[02:12.54]And makes a welcome of indifference.
[02:15.95](And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
[02:19.75]Enacted on this same divan or bed;
[02:22.90]I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
[02:25.70]And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
[02:31.18]Bestows one final patronising kiss,
[02:34.44]And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .
[02:38.56]
[02:40.48]She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
[02:43.47]Hardly aware of her departed lover;
[02:46.46]Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
[02:50.88]'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
[02:54.55]When lovely woman stoops to folly and
[02:58.21]Paces about her room again, alone,
[03:01.33]She smooths her hair with automatic hand,
[03:05.03]And puts a record on the gramophone.
[03:08.17]gramophone.
[03:08.93]
[03:10.08]'This music crept by me upon the waters'
[03:13.02]And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
[03:17.12]O City city, I can sometimes hear
[03:20.56]Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
[03:23.98]The pleasant whining of a mandoline
[03:26.03]And a clatter and a chatter from within
[03:29.01]Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
[03:33.22]Of Magnus Martyr hold
[03:35.72]Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
[03:40.92]
[03:42.18] The river sweats
[03:43.85] Oil and tar
[03:45.19] The barges drift
[03:46.54] With the turning tide
[03:48.29] Red sails
[03:49.39] Wide
[03:50.15] To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
[03:52.89] The barges wash
[03:54.76] Drifting logs
[03:55.86] Down Greenwich reach
[03:57.17] Past the Isle of Dogs.
[04:00.00] Weialala leia
[04:02.19] Wallala leialala
[04:04.65]
[04:05.23] Elizabeth and Leicester
[04:07.22] Beating oars
[04:08.49] The stern was formed
[04:09.64] A gilded shell
[04:10.98] Red and gold
[04:12.41] The brisk swell
[04:14.13] Rippled both shores
[04:15.80] Southwest wind
[04:16.94] Carried down stream
[04:18.43] The peal of bells
[04:20.62] White towers
[04:22.48] Weialala leia
[04:24.73] Wallala leialala
[04:27.11]
[04:28.16]'Trams and dusty trees.
[04:31.36]Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
[04:34.72]Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
[04:39.32]Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.'
[04:42.59]
[04:44.23]'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
[04:47.71]Under my feet. After the event
[04:50.63]He wept. He promised a 'new start.'
[04:54.26]I made no comment. What should I resent?'
[04:57.43]
[04:59.53]'On Margate Sands.
[05:02.09]I can connect
[05:03.33]Nothing with nothing.
[05:05.13]The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
[05:08.86]My people humble people who expect
[05:11.26]Nothing.'
[05:12.68] la la
[05:13.96]
[05:15.38]To Carthage then I came
[05:17.49]
[05:18.61]Burning burning burning burning
[05:21.41]O Lord Thou pluckest me out
[05:23.21]O Lord Thou pluckest
[05:25.46]
[05:25.99]burning