Bushes And Briars - BBC Bob Harris Session

I can't believe that it's so cold, and there ain't been no snow,
Sound of music it comes to me from every place I go,
Sunday morning there's no-one in church but the clergy's chosen man,
And he is fine, I won't worry about him, got the book in his hand.

Oh there's a bitter east wind and the fields are swaying, the crows are round their nest,
I wonder what he's in there saying to all those souls at rest,
I see the path which led to the door and the clergy's chosen man,
Bushes and briars, you and I, where do we stand?

Guitar solo

I wonder if he knows I'm here, watching the briars grow,
And all these people beneath my shoes, I wonder if they know,
There was a time when every last one knew a clergy's chosen man,
Where are they now? Thistles and thorns among the sand.

! can't believe that it's so cold and there ain't been no snow,
The sound of music it comes to me from every place I go,
Sunday morning there's no-one in church but the clergy's chosen man,
Bushes and briars, thistles and thorns upon the land.