Shawn Phillips
Текст песни Miniver Cheevy

Robinson-Phillips

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn
Gruelling as he assailled the seasons
He wept that he was ever born
And he had reasons
Miniver mourned the right renowned
That made so many and named so fragrant
He mourned romance now on the town
And art a vagrant
Miniver scorned the gold he sought
But so annoyed was he without it
Miniver thought and thought and thought
And thought about it
Miniver loved the medici
Albeit, he had never seen one
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one
Miniver cursed the common place
And eyed attack ye sooth with loathing
He missed the medieval grave
Of iron clothing
Miniver Cheevy born too late
Scratched his head and kept on thinking
Miniver coughed and called it fate
And kept on drinking