(Ian Bruce)
The lazy, the triers, the honest and liars
Ladies and children can all die in fires
Flame won't discern for the ones it admires
An artist can die without warning
And if he's a singer and writer of songs
There's tears where he never knew he belonged
Space in the hearts of his audience forms
A space for the singer
Now I'm sure you will find, on the brink of your mind
A singer of stature, his name underlined
Your loyalty won't let him be undermined
His music's so good he deserves this
But who is the man with the short cut career
Whose songs rise above those of most of his peers
Whose voice is constantly fresh in my ears
Stan Rogers the singer
His songs are embroideries with words neatly sewn
His needle of melody stitches so strong
Deep coloured threads are his bellowing tones
Singing songs of seas, ships and lovers
Stan Rogers - now he's dead I regret
A giant cut down by a lit cigarette
The flames took the man we ne'er can forget
Stan Rogers the singer
Do Do Do, Da Da Da, De De De 'N' De
Do Do Do, Da Da Da, De 'N' De 'N' De
Do Do Do, Da Da Da, De De De 'N' De
Do Do Do, Da Da Da, De 'N' De 'N' De
Now he's gone to the sun with a million and one
Of his unwritten songs that will never be sung
But in his music he's left us a 'son'
Who sings as if from the heavens
For when he sings, the Father comes down
He lives once again here with us on the ground
You're moved along by the undying sound
Of Stan Rogers the singer
Do Do Do ...
Susannes Folksong-Notizen English Notes
