Terry O'Leary - The Drummer lyrics

1 The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud As he beats of Humanity wrapped in a shroud. Well he beats of the bone bags Dame Famine's designed As she ravished and plagued us since dawn of mankind; And he beats of Lord Boss letting oranges decay While a child suffers scurvy and pa**es away; And he beats of the beasts we've so needlessly slain And of critters and creatures cast off in distain; And he beats of combatants who're dying deceived As the merchants of murder count profits received; And he beats of the rape and the k**ing of war And the mind blinding sorrow we blithely ignore. He beats and he pounds till our consciences gnaw And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw. 2 The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud As he beats of abuse that we try to becloud. Well he beats of the barons and princes and kings Who have broken our backs while crushing our wings And he beats of the bribes that the powerful make To key politicians who fawn in their wake; And he beats of the waifs bound and chained to machines And of slaves in the fields and other such scenes; And he beats of decrees stating all men are free While ignoring the blacks and their agonised plea; And he beats of the tyrants in clerical garb Who have tortured with f*ggots and thumbscrews and barb. He beats and he pounds till revealing the flaw And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw. 3 The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud As he beats of the strength of the rebels so proud. Well he beats of the spirit the rack couldn't break, And the flame of the flesh that was burned at the stake; And he beats of the minds that could never be chained By the faith that was living while ignorance reigned; And he beats of the struggles when Spartacus rose Having tired of shackles and slavery's woes; And he beats of the women who'll die to be freed And will never give up till they finally succeed; And he beats of the progress outliving the jeers So belying the pessimist's fatuous sneers. He beats and he pounds till we stand back in awe And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw. 4 The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud As he beats of the sights that he's seen from a cloud. Well he beats of the meadows pale yellow and green And of lakes in a wood and a river serene; And he beats of the pa**ion when lovers have lain With their bodies entwined midst a field of lush grain; And he beats of the joy when a mother has smiled While she's nursing her baby, her newly born child; And he beats of the sorrow upwelling inside Leaving shadows and ruins when loved ones have died; And he beats of faint images haunting his dream Of a time when compa**ion and love reign supreme. He beats and he pounds till we see what he saw And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw. *** The drummer beats slowly, the drummer beats loud And he beats of Humanity wrapped in a shroud And he beats of abuse that we try to becloud. And he beats of the strength of the rebels so proud so proud. And he beats of the sights that he's seen from a cloud. And he beats and he pounds till our consciences gnaw And he beats and he pounds till revealing the flaw And he beats and he pounds till we stand back in awe And he beats and he pounds till we see what he saw And his fingers are battered and bloody and raw And his hands are all broken and bleeding and raw. And his hands are all broken... and bleeding... and raw...