Everything Good is Norscan
Chorus:
(C) Mead halls and (Em) shield walls, (Dm) Norscan, (G) Norscan,
(C) Axe blades and (Em) night raids, (Dm) Norscan, (G) Norscan,
I (C) think that you'll (Em) find if you're not (Dm) out of your (G) mind,
That (C) Everything (G) Good is (C) Norscan.
(Am) Tea is actual- (F) ly, just a (G) mineral (E)
That they (Am) mine in Vana- (F) heim, by the (G) bucketful (E)
In a (Am) soup it cures the (F) droop,
And puts the (G) lead back in your (E) pencil,
So we (Am) cart it to the (F) Harts,
And they (G) drink it by the (E) potful,
But the (Bb) mines are almost empty now,
We've (F) dug so deep we've hit drow,
And (G) soon when all the tea is gone,
There'll be (A) no more fun in Albion
Chorus
Kilts are really built out in Orkneyjar,
As fashionwear for ladies fair of Caledonia,
Naked knees are sure to please if they're not knobbly or hairy,
So they take all we can make and the volumes are quite scary,
Enough for half the population of the Caledonian nation,
But their women are quite rare in them,
'Cause their men are always wearing them.
Chorus
Pyramids are made by kids from southern Jotunheim,
A skill they teach down on the beach with blocks of sand and lime,
A bright Year Nine sold the design to the Queen of the Aegyptians,
They build them tall, then wreck them all,
With their wierd picture inscriptions,
They seal their gold up in a tomb that's hidden in a secret room,
But the Norscan schoolboy rubs his hands,
'Cause the room is marked up on his plans.
Chorus.
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(OC Author - The Bricks)