Towing The Line - Ben Howard

Towing the line

I watched the host drink all the wine

And now she rambles

Through the who’s and who have not’s

The old man is a painter

Of tired sea scapes

Tilted adventures

And so my mind wanders

Picking at the table to cure the rot

Like a bird in a world with no trees

You were hung up there in your disbelief

I know I’m a hard rock to drag around

Love is in the early mornings

In the shadows under the trees

Not in the cuckolded ashes floating down from the rookery

Down here I’ll crow for you, you crow for me

Down here I’ll crow for you, you crow for me

Towing the line

I watched the host drink all the wine

And now I’m purring

For a drop of anything

Throwing stones at your window

You turn to me as if it’s simple

Why can’t you be like the blackbird

And sing

I say I’m the westerlies in Ireland

So decadent and violent

Can’t you see I’m a forager

Clawing at the bedrock

Love is in the early mornings

In the shadows under the trees

Not in the cuckolded ashes

Floating down from the rookery

Down here I’ll crow for you, you crow for me

Down here I’ll crow for you, you crow for me