His Last Bow

from by This Sporting Life

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lyrics

Vain little man, hours at the lathe,
In the shed at the foot of the drive,
Weeping to the sound of the gas,
Yet again.

What is in his mind, thinking of the times,
After school, so long ago,
When nothing seemed to fit
Behind the bikeshed – no one came,
He went

On the mournful branchline, Bradshaw in hand,
No one saw his last.

Working in vain on a new idea,
Whose zeal only houseclearers will see,
Rummaging for goods,

On the mournful branchline, Bradshaw in hand,
No one saw his last bow.

A shamefaced meal in a frowsy room;
Irish stew.
Standing for hours behind the bikesheds,
The one thing he remembers at this time.

On the mournful branchline, Bradshaw in hand,
No on sees him, no one understands.
On the mournful branchline, Bradshaw in hand,
No one saw his last bow.

credits

from This Sporting Life, released October 21, 2013

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