The Battle Of Epping Forest Lyrics - Selling England By The Pound - Genesis

Along the forest road there's hundreds of cars, luxury cars 

Each has got its load of convertible bars, cutlery cars, super scars 

For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out 

'Cause they disagree on a gangland boundary 

They disagree on a gangland boundary 

There's Willy Wright and his boys, one helluva noise 

That's Billy's boys with fully-fashioned mugs 

That's little John's thugs, the barking slugs, super smugs 

For today is the day when they sort it out, sort it out 

Yes, these Christian soldiers fight to protect the poor 

East end heroes got to score in the battle of Epping forest 

Yes, it's the battle of Epping forest right outside your door 

And you ain't seen nothing like it 

No, you ain't seen nothing like it 

Not since the civil war 

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Comin' over the hill are the boys of Bill 

And Johnny's lads stand very still 

With the thumpires shout, they all start to clout 

There's no guns in this gentleman's bout 

And Georgie moves in on the outside left 

With a chain flying round his head 

And Harold Demure, from art literature 

Nips up the nearest tree, here come the cavalry 

Amidst the battle roar, accountants keep the score, 10-4 

They've never been alone, after getting a radiophone 

The bluebells are ringing for sweet meal Sam, real ham 

Handin' out bread and jam just like any picnic, picnic, picnic, picnic 

It's 5 to 4 on William Wright, he made his pile on derby night 

When Billy was a kid walking the streets, the other kids hid, so they did 

And now after workin' hard in security trade, he's got it made 

The shops that need aid are those that haven't paid 

"I do my double-show quick" Said Mick the prick, fresh out the Nick 

"I sold cheap holiday, the minute they leave 

Then a visit I pay an' does it pay" 

His friend, liquid Len by name, of wine, women and wands worth fame 

Said, "I'm breaking the legs of the bastard that got me framed" 

I'm breaking the legs of the bastard that got me framed, got me framed 

They called me the reverend when I entered the church unstained 

My employers have changed but the name has remained 

All began when I went on a tour, hoping to find some furniture 

I followed a sign, it said, 'Beautiful Chest" 

It led to a lady who showed me her best 

She was taken by surprise when I quickly closed my eyes 

So she rang the bell, and quick as hell 

Bob the nob, came out on his job to see what the trouble was 

"Louise, is the reverend hard to please? " 

"You're telling me!" 

"Perhaps, sir, if its not too late 

We could interest you in our old-fashioned Stafford shire plate? " 

"Oh no, not me, I'm a man of repute" 

But the devil caught hold of my soul and a voice called out "Shoot!" 

To save my steeple, I visited people 

For this I'd gone when I met little John 

His name came, I understood 

When the judge said, "You're a robbing hood" 

He told me of his strange foundation 

Conceived on sight of the Woodstock nation 

He'd had to hide his reputation 

When poor, 'twas salvation from door to door 

But now, with a pin-up guru every week 

It was love, peace and truth incorporated for all who seek 

He employed me as a karma-ma-mechanic, with overall charms 

His hands were then fit to receive, receive alms 

That's why we're in the battle of Epping forest 

Yes, it's the battle of Epping forest 

Right outside your door 

We guard your souls for peanuts 

And we guard your shops and houses 

For just a little more, just a little more 

In with a left hook is the bethnal green butcher 

But hes countered on the right by Mick's chain-gang fight 

And liquid Len, with his smashed bottle men 

Is lobbing Bob the nob across the gob 

With his kisser in a mess, Bob seems under stress 

But Jones the jug hits Len right in the mug 

And Harold Demure, who's still not quite sure 

Fires acorns from out of his sling, here come the cavalry 

Up, up above the crowd 

Inside their silver cloud, done proud 

The bold and brazen brass, seen darkly through the glass 

The butlers got jam on his rolls, Roy Doles out the lot 

With tea from a silver pot just like any picnic, picnic, picnic, picnic 

Along the forest road, its the end of the day 

And the clouds roll away 

Each has got its load, they'll come out for the count 

At the breakin' of day 

When the limos return for their final review, it's all through 

All they can see is the morning goo 

"There's no one left alive, must be a draw" 

So the black cap barons toss a coin to settle the score