Lyrics:
From the day I was born, I took the bull by the horns, and gave you
Plenty to scorn, well right on! then you said in a song that life was
Gettin
Hate for hate and Ruth for Ruth
Eye for eye and tooth for tooth
Scorn for scorn and smite for smite
Love for love and guile for guile
He who is
licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn
Circus town's been born
Oh, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro
Cartwheelin' up
licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn
Circus town's been born
Oh, and a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro
Cartwheelin' up
born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
The which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort
born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
The which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort
It went right by me
At the time it went over my head
I was looking out the window
I should have looked
At your face instead
It went right by
the strangers eyes
And who are we to criticize or scorn the things that they do?
For we shall seek and we shall find Ammonia Avenue
If we call for
Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strains of his old, withered hands
But remember his fingers, they once could move
Images on the sidewalk
Speak of dream's descent
Washed away by the storms
To graves of cynical lament
Dirty canvases to call my own
Protest
Oh list to the lay of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strains of his old, withered hands
But remember his fingers, they once could move
Septic incarnate
An enemy until your death
Scorn of the earth
Yo each his own
To me the most
By my hands you will feel my wrath
On your knees
In yellow coin
Could not bribe away the scorn
Which fastens up your mouth
For whom are those hard lips?
The hunters creeping through the green
Beside
hard to see
But you know when you're there
On the bottom words are shallow
The surface talk is cheap
You can only judge the distance by the company
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
That which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
O tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and joy
O
will come but don't you hide
You are on your way
You're led by God but you're not a pawn
Should live your life, don't care 'bout any scorn
Just
Simon Diamond sold his soul
Changed his name by deed poll
Started out as Simon Russell
Lived his life inside a nutshell
Oooh ooooh Oooooooh
was born,
And laid within a manger,
Upon this blessed morn;
That which His Mother Mary,
Did nothing take in scorn.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
now
Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted
Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now
I was housed by your warmth, thus transformed
By your
Jewry,
This blessed Babe was born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
The which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
(O tidings
I have a song to sing, O
(Sing me your song, O)
It is sung to the moon by a love-lorn loon
Who fled from the mocking throng-o
It's the song
brow
Scorn in her eyes
Her back to the cries
We spit upon the life
That never was
And here we stand
In old England's land
The rose is choked
born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
The which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort
Haunted by your disgrace
Every step every fall
Proves I'm breaking this wall
I will rise from the ashes
With your name in my blood
Scorn's revenge in
Discuss these trondheimgvle by scorn Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In