Bellowhead
Bellowhead - Spectre Review lyrics
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From out of his grave the drummer, when midnight's chime has tolled Rises and wanders nightly, the drum within his hold With arm bones white and fleshless he moves the drumsticks two Plays many a wild reveille and many a weird tattoo And through the dark loud calling, the drum-taps beat and shake And the dead forgotten soldiers from out of their graves awake Those buried in the northlands under the ice and snow And those whose bones are swelt'ring Italia's earth below And those who the Nile-stream cover, and the Arabian sands All from their graves are rising with weapons in their hands Then from his grave the trumpeter at midnight rises slow And ever at the midnight the ghostly trumpets blow Next come the prancing horses, the brave dead cavalry The bloody shot-pierced squadrons all weaponed diversely Arms white and fleshless brandish long and rusty swords And last his grave forsaking when chimes of midnight sound Comes the general riding with his phantom staff around Small and cocked the hat he wears and his coat is grey and wide And he bears a short sword hanging in the sheath at his left side The moon with yellow glances over the wide plain shines The general watches mutely; the troops they form in line The ranks present and shoulder their arms right soldierly And with regimental music the army marches by The marshals and the general gather around him near A word the general whispers into Caesar's ear The word goes round the circle, resounding over the plain "La France!" the ringing password, the answer "St Hélène!" Thus at the hour of midnight in the Champs Élysées The long-dead Caesar holds his weird review, men say