The Vision Of The Peregrine Worsthorne

In Fleet Street I lay down to sleep
In the seediest journalist bar
And in my sleep a vision I dreamed
From afar

In celestial mist made of light
An angel that blinds mortal eyes
This vision I knew knew no wrong
Only right

He took my hand and showed me things I'd never dreamed
The veil blinding me was lifted
And truth shone, a beacon beaming

The vision said softly to me
"The people are becoming to free
And if you want to sever the tea (?)
Oh baby

Peregrine is looking grim
The economy is falling to pieces
It seems quite hopeless

Stand steadfastly by the friendly in exchange with free
Broadcast calls for order and law
Yet all shall be well, all shall be well"

The Holy Ghost bid me be bold
For wisdom that's weight out of old (?)
Could will if it was spread among men
Once again

The vision departed me then
And I awoke cold and distant
I knew my mission

notes: Sir Peregrine Worsthorne is apparently a right-wing political commentator in England, and formerly the editor of the Sunday Telegraph.

Malcolm:

Peregrine Worsthorne was and possibly is still a respectable Tory journalist. I picked on him mostly because of his name, I must admit, since it sounds like something out of the eighteenth century. I imagined him drunk and cynical in a pub. The guitarist of the Wolfhounds, Andy Golding, plays keyboards on this.

Fleet Street is a famous London street, traditionally the home of the national press. Despite the fact that all the major newspapers have now moved out of their Fleet Street offices (most to the Docklands), the street's name continues to be used as a synonym for the British press. The last major news office, Reuters left in 2003 (from nationmaster.com).

found on: I Am a Wallet

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