Heavy, traditional, and consistent carton after carton
in immense, encrusted, deathly slabs of black flies
Nobody Speaks to the Captain No More Nobody Speaks to the Captain No More Nobody Speaks to the Captain No More He was a fugitive with a pseudo name Lost his mind in a hurricane Coconut upside his head People said he'd be better dead Cause his glory days are gone Sits on the shore with his saxophone and plays In another place, in another time He was a soldier in his prime On the battlefield, makin' history Young men died for his destiny And their widows came each day Till he was forced to run away From home So he bought a town, but he sold the sea Claimed a shallow victory On an iron ship, with a wooden crew They hit the reef when the moon was new Now he cries himself to sleep On a beach made of promises he meant to keep Long ago Nobody Speaks To The Captain No More Nobody talks about the war Hey what the hell were we fighting for Such a long long time ago And now the monkeys and the iguanas They listen to his song A most uncaptive audience He plays to all night long So the story goes, he was dressed to kill When he jumped from the old mahogany mill And the jungle beasts, they were heard to wail As the saxophone still played the scale For a man they never know who looked like me and you Long ago Nobody Speaks To The Captain No More No one is interested in settling old scores Hey what the hell were we fighting for Such a long, long time ago Nobody Speaks to The Captain No More No one is interested in settling old scores Hey what the hell were we fighting for Such a long time ago
Kendal already had a nationwide woolen trade as well as tanning, leather and shoe trade so the town had a good network of transport routes and facilities
It was a quintessentially Durham moment, with the open-streets event buzzing around while folks found their stillness on the field
