Skyclad - Any Old Irony? lyrics

At the vanguard of a juddering caravan, hurriedly galloping down a dirt-track. Six furtive figures, crooked as Caliban; Smuggling hope to the land of the claque. Weary, hoarse-riders; irksomely blistered. Spent from a decade a-roving the road. Frigging a jig for our brothers and sisters; Stark-raving-madrigals by the cartload. Without trepidation I sing in laudation; Vocal salute to all travelling tinkers. Vagabond nation joined in congregation. United free-thinkers cry from the bryony; "Any old irony?!" [Chorus:] Come one, come all to our travelling circus; Cast-off your cares for the painted parade. Whirl down the wynd like dervish-berserkers; If life hands us lemons; we'll make lemonade. Maybe Jay's smashed (?), drumming up pa**ion; Scarring forever with each brisk tattoo Bean's in the place so ba** is in fashion, k**ing us all with his amp set on 2. Watch out for Ridley The Raucously Tiddly, Unplugged he's no Dr. Jekyll....so Hyde! Desperate-Dan-Ramsey; deft fingers diddle. Watching The Match on a telly stage-side. The cat on the fiddle, Miss Georgie Biddle; Keeping it reeling with her fugue electric. Stuck in the middle I'll rhyme you a riddle; Irate and eclectic my cry from the bryony; "Any old irony?!" [Chorus:] Come one, come all to our travelling circus; Cast-off your cares for the painted parade. Whirl down the wynd like dervish-berserkers; If life hands us lemons; we'll make lemonade.