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Tim McGuire

  • (Leon Rosselson)

    Little Tim MacGuire loved to play with fire
    Always hated water, never used to wash
    Loved the smell of burning, of bonfires burning
    Loved to play all day with his little tinder box

    He chased the sparks as they flew into the evening
    Hailed the flash of lightning and the burning sun
    When I'm a man then I'll become a fireman
    Then I can light a fire for everyone

    When he was four they dressed him in a uniform
    Sent him to a school with iron railings all around
    Hated the school and the rules and the railings
    Took his little tinder box and burnt it to the ground

    Oh how he laughed and danced in the firelight
    Oh how he laughed as the flames leapt to the sky
    When I'm a man I'm going to be a fireman
    Keep a bonfire burning until the day I die

    When MacGuire grew older they made him wear a bowler
    Set him to work in an office in the town
    Hated the pens and the pins and the papers
    Had just one ambition, to burn the office down

    Little Tim MacGuire loved to play with fire
    Loved the blaze of roses and the golden grain
    Loved the leaves of autumn, the red leaves of autumn
    Loved a slender girl with a smile like a flame

    The judge said at his trial, Your behaviour has been vile
    You're a menace to society though you may think you're big
    You have to go to prison - and then, what a commotion
    For smoke and fire were pouring from the judge's wig

    Oh how he laughed and danced in the courtroom
    We took him down, we locked him in the darkness of the cell
    Never saw the sun or heard the songbirds calling
    Saw the prison bars and heard the prison bell

    Then early one morning just as the day was dawning
    A great wheel of fire spun skywards from the jail
    The iron bars melted, the stone walls crumbled
    No one in the prison lived to tell the tale

    No one ever found Tim MacGuire's little tinder box
    No one ever found a trace of Tim MacGuire
    Perhaps he's up in heaven setting light to angels' haloes
    Perhaps he's down in hell dancing round the fire

    Repeat 1

    (as sung by The McCalmans)

Susannes Folksong-Notizen

  • nothing / nichts

Quelle: England

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