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Death & Taxes

by The Stanfields

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about

We made this record with Mike Fraser. He also recorded Thunderstruck.

THUNDERSTRUCK

credits

released September 18, 2012

Musicians
Jon Landry - Vocals // Guitar
Jason Wright - Bouzouki // Background Vocals
Jason MacIssac - Guitar // Background Vocals
Craig Eugene Harris - Bass // Background Vocals // Guitar
Mark Murphy - Drums // Percussion // Background Vocals

Guests
Ian McKinnon - Tin Whistle // Bodhran on 'The Boston States'
Robbie Aggas - Background vocals

Produced by Mike Fraser & The Stanfields
Engineered by Mike Fraser
Assistant Engineering by Darren Van Niekerk
Recorded at Sonic Temple (Halifax, NS)
Mixed by Mike Fraser at Warehouse Studio (Vancouver BC)
Assistant Mix Engineering by Brad Salter
Mastered by Adam Ayan at Gateway Mastering (Portland, ME)
Graphic Design and Layout by Mike McDougall (Devcom)
Executive Producer - Ian McKinnon // Groundswell Music

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all rights reserved

about

The Stanfields Halifax, Nova Scotia

The Stanfields are a Canadian rock music group, based in Halifax, Nova Scotia.

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Track Name: Jack of All Trades
I’m a Jack of all trades and a bastard son,
a burnt out slave and a master of none
A cog on a wheel in a dog and pony show
But if I won the lottery, I’d be taken seriously
With the keys to the kingdom and a stock portfolio

No I don’t know why I wait for pigs to fly
A normal day for them is a miracle for me
The master makes the rules, and the master plays the fools An ordinary voice in a silent harmony

Look at the Jones, they ain’t sad at all, they love the wage, they hate us all They dance to the rhythm of a dark and distant drone
I can’t keep up with the Jones no more, I can’t make rent when I had it before Now a big wolf is at the door looking for blood from a stone

Should I grow old before I die, just another John Doe in debt to his eyes
Choking on the barrel of a gun run down my throat
Held by the master’s invisible hands, “More, more, more!”
the master commands “Call in the lawyers, piss on the ants,”
I quote. No joke
Track Name: Run on the Banks
When I came home from the Anzio shore,
I got me a job at a Shiretown store
I married up quick, we had the one son
My limit was hit and my race was run
We raised him right and we put him through school
With a gentle embrace and an iron rule
Our world was shattered when we lost our son
To the business end of a gangster’s gun

How do you go from the Bernhardt Line
to chasing anonymous ships in the night?
How do you live with a lingering ghost?
With a run on the banks
With a run on the banks

When they buried my boy of 22 years,
I swore I’d do more than choke on my tears
So I hardened up my heart, took up the oath
And looked for ways to avenge us both
Me and his mother, we never were the same,
She left me one spring and I am to blame
I forgot about living, forgot about her
Forgot about love and the way things were

Sixteen guns, 25 kilos,
a couple thousand rounds when we run her aground
The crew bailed out and headed for the hills
With a barrel of blow and a mountain of pills
No arrest in her majesty’s waters,
no victory for the mothers and fathers
of the young and the damned
The guilty walk free to continue their trade on a cruel black sea
Track Name: Ms. McGrath
“Mrs McGrath,” the sergeant said,
“would you like a soldier of your son Ted?”
Scarlet coat, a big cocked hat,
Mrs. McGrath would you like that?”
Mrs. McGrath lived on the shore
and after seven years or more
She spotted a ship come into the bay
With her son from far away

Too- rai-eh-ful-diddly-eh
Too-rai-loo-rai-loo-rai-eh
Too- rai-eh-ful-diddly-eh
Too-rai-loo-rai-loo-rai-eh

“Captain dear, where have you been, sailing the Mediterranean?
Have you news of my son Ted?
Is he living or is he dead?”
Then Teddy boy came out with no legs
and in their place, two wooden pegs
She kissed him a dozen times or two and
said, “My God Ted is it you?”

“Were you drunk or were you blind,
when you left your two fine legs behind?
Or was walking upon the sea
that tore your two fine legs from thee?”
“No I wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t blind
when I left my two fine legs behind.
A cannonball on the fifth of May
tore my two fine legs away.”

“Teddy boy,” the widow cried,
“your two fine legs were your mother’s pride.
Stumps of a tree won’t do at all,
you should’ve run from the cannonball.”
“All foreign wars,” I do proclaim,
“live on blood and a mother’s pain.
I’d rather my boy as he used to be then
the king of the west and his navy.”