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John Edmond
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In the Name of Grey
There's a rusty stirrup,
a rotting bandolier,
an old Martini Henry,
From history's frontier.
In the state museum,
those pictures on the wall,
looks as if they're living,
they never died at all.
They ride ride ride ride ride,
like those men, of yesterday.
And they ride ride ride ride ride,
ride, in the name of Grey.
That phantom band of horsemen,
riding in the sky,
sentries of the spirit,
they never will let die.
Their long and lonely vigil,
hasn't been in vain,
The spirit has awakened,
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the horsemen ride again.
They ride ride ride ride ride,
like those men, of yesterday.
And they ride ride ride ride ride,
ride, in the name of Grey.
There's a shining stirrup,
a loaded magazine,
an automatic rifle,
a suit of jungle green.
There's a band of horsemen
riding on patrol,
Fighting from the saddle,
like in days of old.
They ride ride ride ride ride,
like those men, of yesterday.
And they ride ride ride ride ride,
ride, in the name of Grey.
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