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peter bellamy - the plymouth mail lyrics

[chorus]
the whip goes crack and the h+rn does blow
the turnpike calls and i must go
and wind nor sleet nor rain nor hail
will halt the driver of the plymouth mail

[verse 1]
when i was a lad i used to play
by the roadside all the live+long day
hoping always to espy
the gentry’s coaches a+rolling by
when i was a youth i used to roam
with a wagoner from town to town
but i longed to fly across the land
on a stagecoach high with a four+in+hand
now i am grown unto a man
on the driver’s box i take my stand
like the captain bold of a ship of sail
i’m the man who drives the plymouth mail
[chorus]
the whip goes crack and the h+rn does blow
the turnpike calls and i must go
and wind nor sleet nor rain nor hail
will halt the driver of the plymouth mail

[verse 2]
with six on top and four inside
the post+poy and the guard beside
their bags and baggage safely stowed
it’s time to take the open road
then the hooves do fly and the wheels spin round
and we bid adieu to plymouth town
plympton, brent and ashburton pass
and to exeter we comes at last
then the horses blow and their sides do steam
as the ostlers run to change the team
the travellers gulp a glass of ale
then back they scramble on the plymouth mail

[chorus]
the whip goes crack and the h+rn does blow
the turnpike calls and i must go
and wind nor sleet nor rain nor hail
will halt the driver of the plymouth mail
[verse 3]
we roll across the dorset downs
and stage again in shaftesbury town
then i crack my whip with might and main
and on we roll to salisbury plain
soon over hounslow heath we fly
where the gibbets loom against the sky
and the passengers all hide their gold
for fear we meet some robbers bold

[chorus]
and the whip goes crack and the h+rn does blow
the turnpike calls and i must go
and wind nor sleet nor rain nor hail
will halt the driver of the plymouth mail

[verse 4]
at the sign of the standard in cornhill
at last my rumbling wheels are still
and the passengers, all stiff and sore
thank god their journey’s safely o’er
in a cozy parlour now i stand
with a goodly bumper to my hand
and the travellers drink a glass of ale
to the health of the driver of the plymouth mail
[chorus]
oh, the whip goes crack and the h+rn does blow
the turnpike calls and i must go
and wind nor sleet nor rain nor hail
will halt the driver of the plymouth mail

- peter bellamy lyrics

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