| Song | Slip Jigs And Reels |
| Artist | Fairport Convention |
| Album | Jewel In The Crown |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Slip Jigs And Reels | |
| He was barely a man in his grandfather's coat | |
| Sewn into the lining a ten shilling note | |
| Goodbye to the family | |
| Farewell to the shore | |
| ‘Till I taste good fortune you'll see me no more | |
| Now the boat on the ocean tossed like a cork | |
| Then one fine mornin' they sighted New York | |
| He stood on the gangplank and breathed in the air | |
| A lowland aplenty I've come for my share | |
| And he did like the ladies, their eyes and the fall | |
| of their ankles and dresses down on the dance floor | |
| Rollin' the dice, and spinnin' the wheels | |
| But he took most delight in the slip jigs and reels | |
| There's talk of a pistol, and some say a knife | |
| But all have agreed there was somebody's wife | |
| Dreadful commotion, a terrible fight | |
| He left a man dead and ran into the night | |
| On a train to St Louis, just one jump ahead | |
| He slept one eye open, a sixgun in bed | |
| He dreamt of the mountains and great fields of home | |
| Crossing the plain where the buffalo roam | |
| CHORUS | |
| A bad reputation's a hard thing to bear | |
| Mothers pour scorn, and children they stare | |
| So he found consolation in flash company | |
| Things ain't so bad with a girl on each knee | |
| Oh, they called him The Kid, and by 21 | |
| All that he knew was the power of the gun | |
| And by 23, he'd shot 5 men down | |
| that got in his way as he rambled around | |
| CHORUS | |
| Theres bones on the desert and buzzards that fly | |
| In the highest of circles, just wishing he'd die | |
| But in manners of cruelty, it must be said | |
| A landlord will pick your bones before you're dead | |
| It was wild mescaleros I heard someone say | |
| In the deadliest ambush near old Santa Fe | |
| And the young buck was taken, dressed in a coat | |
| And inside the lining a ten shilling note | |
| CHORUS |
| Slip Jigs And Reels | |
| He was barely a man in his grandfather' s coat | |
| Sewn into the lining a ten shilling note | |
| Goodbye to the family | |
| Farewell to the shore | |
| ' Till I taste good fortune you' ll see me no more | |
| Now the boat on the ocean tossed like a cork | |
| Then one fine mornin' they sighted New York | |
| He stood on the gangplank and breathed in the air | |
| A lowland aplenty I' ve come for my share | |
| And he did like the ladies, their eyes and the fall | |
| of their ankles and dresses down on the dance floor | |
| Rollin' the dice, and spinnin' the wheels | |
| But he took most delight in the slip jigs and reels | |
| There' s talk of a pistol, and some say a knife | |
| But all have agreed there was somebody' s wife | |
| Dreadful commotion, a terrible fight | |
| He left a man dead and ran into the night | |
| On a train to St Louis, just one jump ahead | |
| He slept one eye open, a sixgun in bed | |
| He dreamt of the mountains and great fields of home | |
| Crossing the plain where the buffalo roam | |
| CHORUS | |
| A bad reputation' s a hard thing to bear | |
| Mothers pour scorn, and children they stare | |
| So he found consolation in flash company | |
| Things ain' t so bad with a girl on each knee | |
| Oh, they called him The Kid, and by 21 | |
| All that he knew was the power of the gun | |
| And by 23, he' d shot 5 men down | |
| that got in his way as he rambled around | |
| CHORUS | |
| Theres bones on the desert and buzzards that fly | |
| In the highest of circles, just wishing he' d die | |
| But in manners of cruelty, it must be said | |
| A landlord will pick your bones before you' re dead | |
| It was wild mescaleros I heard someone say | |
| In the deadliest ambush near old Santa Fe | |
| And the young buck was taken, dressed in a coat | |
| And inside the lining a ten shilling note | |
| CHORUS |
| Slip Jigs And Reels | |
| He was barely a man in his grandfather' s coat | |
| Sewn into the lining a ten shilling note | |
| Goodbye to the family | |
| Farewell to the shore | |
| ' Till I taste good fortune you' ll see me no more | |
| Now the boat on the ocean tossed like a cork | |
| Then one fine mornin' they sighted New York | |
| He stood on the gangplank and breathed in the air | |
| A lowland aplenty I' ve come for my share | |
| And he did like the ladies, their eyes and the fall | |
| of their ankles and dresses down on the dance floor | |
| Rollin' the dice, and spinnin' the wheels | |
| But he took most delight in the slip jigs and reels | |
| There' s talk of a pistol, and some say a knife | |
| But all have agreed there was somebody' s wife | |
| Dreadful commotion, a terrible fight | |
| He left a man dead and ran into the night | |
| On a train to St Louis, just one jump ahead | |
| He slept one eye open, a sixgun in bed | |
| He dreamt of the mountains and great fields of home | |
| Crossing the plain where the buffalo roam | |
| CHORUS | |
| A bad reputation' s a hard thing to bear | |
| Mothers pour scorn, and children they stare | |
| So he found consolation in flash company | |
| Things ain' t so bad with a girl on each knee | |
| Oh, they called him The Kid, and by 21 | |
| All that he knew was the power of the gun | |
| And by 23, he' d shot 5 men down | |
| that got in his way as he rambled around | |
| CHORUS | |
| Theres bones on the desert and buzzards that fly | |
| In the highest of circles, just wishing he' d die | |
| But in manners of cruelty, it must be said | |
| A landlord will pick your bones before you' re dead | |
| It was wild mescaleros I heard someone say | |
| In the deadliest ambush near old Santa Fe | |
| And the young buck was taken, dressed in a coat | |
| And inside the lining a ten shilling note | |
| CHORUS |