Yes it is his land, all of it his He stepped it off and marked it there,...stepped it off and marked it there To be his ugly thoroughfare,...to be his
Translation: Richard Cliff. His Land.
Listen and you're going to hear the sweetest sound you ever heard It's the spirit blowing across the land It's the voice of one who calls his bride to
To the people we want to be Baby, power to you and me There's one strong man ploughing in the valley He's living off the land, power to the land There
only to piglets of a similarly diminutive proportion, to single-handedly invent THE CALENDAR! With his eyes rolled heaven-ward, and his little shiny