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Roy Harper - Descendants Of Smith Lyrics

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  • He woke up in a crashing din
  • Half in a dream he grabbed his sword
  • They smashed the door down and rushed in
  • "What the Hell" was his last word
  • He staggered out into the snow
  • And left a stain that didn't go
  • Until it was found in four million and three
  • By descendants of Smith
  • His snuff box and his shoulder pack
  • Were sold in 'Antiquarian'
  • Someone else's bric-a-brac
  • A taste of times long since bygone
  • The stain was sinking in a vice
  • Two feet deep in solid ice
  • Until it was found in four million and three
  • By descendants of Smith
  • His blood was put in their machine
  • Which reproduced him at great speed
  • Engineered a female gene
  • And put them in a room to breed
  • With esperanto anecdotes
  • Resuscitated microdots
  • The descendant of Smith
  • Ran a colony of centaurs
  • Roamed a zoo with mastodon
  • And never knew of his mentors

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