Rabble raising

Rabble Rousing in the swamp
Cheers go up
From the Bird hide romp
Ravers, engravers, blatant cravers
Of a drunken night-time's revelling
Now the morning after
They wake up in the wooden hut
To the quiet peace of waders
Curlews, dippers, divers
Nothing more than these skivers
Want than to beat their drum,
Oh come, come
Gravediggers of the swamp
What has your rabble rousing
raised?
What artifacts of civil war
What dead soldiers lay
Disturbed in their eternal sleep
Crawl out from the clay
And peat
What peat men are dragged
Black and dripping from their grave
Look how their death skeletons
Join your rave
Their bones jingle-jangle
And their death masks save
You from their hideous
Features
They do the bog romp
They do the rabble rave
They do the moorland stomp
In the Somerset grave
And you're so drunk
Yeah you're really brave
You dance with the fallen
Round heads and Cavaliers

They are dancing the conga
To Congelton, while between
Their spare ribs
The eels still steal
And their armour is rusted
But its clanking now
To the sound of the busted
Vibrating ground
And their flint-lock pistols
They hold in their hands
Are shot into the air
As the army stands
And the techno beats
Are drilling like tin cans
But you're too drunk now
To remember your plans

You vouched your life to the
Bridgwater league
To levellers these revellers
Swore oaths of blood creeds
The rabble was roused
By the saw and the plough
To fight for the farmer
Against power and greed

And the devils were dancing that night on
The moor
When the ghetto blaster blew
Its tunes
And the pitch-forks were raised
By the rebellious crew
And they danced and they crazed
They rioted and raved
Down the rhein drove
And played
But in the morning
Who knew they were even there
Nothing was saved
Save the black boggy
Foot-prints leading
Back -stomp..stomp...stomp
into the swamp