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Lyr Req: Yesterday's Men & other songs

04 Oct 05 - 02:06 PM (#1575652)
Subject: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: GUEST

Yesterday's Man, The Sweet County Limerick, Four Green Fields.

If anyone has lyrics to any of these songs I would greatly appreciate it.

04 Oct 05 - 02:17 PM (#1575670)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Sorcha

Maybe this one?

The Juice of the Barley
In the sweet county Limerick one cold Winter's night,
As the turf fires were burning I first saw the light,

If so, it's here.

04 Oct 05 - 02:19 PM (#1575675)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Sorcha

Four Green Fields in the DT.

04 Oct 05 - 02:20 PM (#1575677)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Peace

Four Green Fields

04 Oct 05 - 02:20 PM (#1575680)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Peace

Sorry Sorcha. Thought the DT had been checked by Guest. My bad. BUT, there is a midi at the site I linked to.

04 Oct 05 - 02:21 PM (#1575681)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Sorcha

Any lyrics at all for Yesterday's Man? It would help...

04 Oct 05 - 02:23 PM (#1575686)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Peace

The Sweet County Limerick . . .aka Juice of the Barley?

04 Oct 05 - 02:25 PM (#1575689)
Subject: Lyr Add: YESTERDAY'S MEN (from Madness)
From: Peace

This it?

YESTERDAY'S MEN
(Graham "Suggs" McPherson/Chris Foreman)

An insolent speck of youth being taken for a walk
So tightly by the ear that he can hardly talk

Yesterday's men hang to today
To sing in the old-fashioned way.
It must get better in the long run.
Has to get better in the long run.

A metropolitan marathon has been held today,
But who you need to catch will be coming the other way.

Yesterday's men hang to today
To sing in any old way.
It must get better in the long run.
Has to get better in the long run.

Because when you're told to start, how far can you go,
When your race is won and you already know?
Because when you're told to stop, how far will you go,
When your race is run and you already know?

Yesterday's men hang to today,
To sing in any old way.
It must get better in the long run,
Has to get better in the long run.
Will it get better in the long run?
Will we be here in the long run?

Yesterday's men hang to today,
To sing in any old way.
It must get better in the long run,
Has to get better in the long run.
Will it get better in the long run?
Will we be here in the long run?
Do, do, do, hang on in the long run.

04 Oct 05 - 02:29 PM (#1575695)
Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Yesterday's Man.........
From: Peace

Sorry. That "Thsi it?" was a misplaced question for GUEST by me, a humble guy in Canada's friggin' frozen and getting frozener north.

04 Oct 05 - 03:11 PM (#1575729)
Subject: Lyr Add: YESTERDAY'S MEN (Phil Coulter)
From: Leadfingers

I think it was The Fureys did a YESTERDAY'S MEN.

It was Joey the weasel who gave us the wire:
They're closing the factory down.
Though we didn't believe him and called him a liar,
The redundancy letters came round.
As we read them in silence, I choked back a tear.
It was hard to believe after twenty-odd years.

CHORUS: Farewell, my companions, my friends and my workmates.
Farewell to the pay days, the pints and the crack;
For we gave them our best years; now they've paid us back
By making us yesterday's men, sure as hell, by making us yesterday's men.

So we said our goodbyes by the old factory gate
One cold Friday evening last year,
And I saw it all there in the eyes of my mates:
The anger, the sadness, the fear.
Like our fathers before us, we worked there with pride.
Now we fought back the bitterness burning inside.

"Now Jimmy," said she, "give the kids a few bob.
After all, son, it is Friday night."
But how could I tell her I was out of a job?
From now on things were going to be tight.
I remember the feeling; it cut like a knife.
I was never a day on the dole in my life.

The machines are all silent; the workbench is bare.
There's dust on the factory floor.
They've boarded the windows and chained up the gates.
They've padlocked the factory door;
And I'm on the scrap heap at just thirty-nine,
Just one of the hundreds cut down in my prime.