Pumped Up Kicks Songtext
von Florentlynn

Richard hath a swift hand
He doth gaze upon the
Fyrd, and he maketh a plan
He hath with him a smoking pipe, hanging
From his mouth, he is a longbowman
He did find an old bow of yew
And a quiver of arrows in his father′s
Chest, wherefore I cannot say
But he cometh for thee
Yea he cometh for thee

All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow
All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Faster than mine arrow


All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow
All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Faster than mine arrow

Father worketh all day
And he cometh home late
Yea he cometh home late
Mayhaps he bringeth me a gift
For stew is in the pot
Though it doth taste of grit
I have waited e're long
Now mine eye is quick
And mine arm is strong
I reason with my smoking pipe
And say "Thou art an artless
Greasy tallow-catch." Yea


All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow
All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Faster than mine arrow

All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow
All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Faster than mine arrow

Hey

All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow
All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Faster than mine arrow

All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow
All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Faster than mine arrow

All ye bully-rooks
With your buskin boots
Best ye go, best ye go
Outrun my bow