Biography:
1. Derek William Dick, better known as Fish (born 25 April 1958 in Dalkeith, Midlothian) is a Scottish progressive rock singer, writer and actor. After an early career as a gardener and forestry worker, he came to public attention in 1981 with the British group Marillion, which he left in 1988.
Album sleeve artwork for his four Marillion albums and most of his solo albums has been done by Mark Wilkinson.
Fish is not to be confused with Phish, Chris Squire (“The Fish”)
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#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 14:04:43 GMT+1
From: CHRISTER VARANchrister Varan
Subject: CRD: Lucky by Fish
Hi, Fish lover.
Here's a song I like very much.....
- Lucky -
from the album "Acustic Session" by Fish
D C G
D C G
D
He met with the world as a Dalkeith boy,
Raised from a shaft at Monktonhall
C
In a well oiled cage,
G
That locked away his dreams.
D
An '85 veteran facefrom the gallery,
A ghost from the civil war in the family,
C
He stood his ground on the picketline.
G
'Til all that he was left with,
D
Were his father's cough
And his mother's eyes.
That would hold a tear
For the very first time,
C G
When the government took his job away.
D
Now fist in hand he'll stand in line.
Declare his name and mark his time.
C G
To some the only proof that they're alive.
CHORUS:
F
He could have been you. _|
He could have been me. |
D# | x 2
He could have been anybody |
(Bb) F |
But he was born lucky. _|
F D# Bb
F
He mad his first downpayment,
On a sharp Italian suit.
D# Bb
He sewed razor blades into the lapels,
F
See him sweating on the dancefloor.
Coal dust oozing out of every pore.
D#
A hard man with a hard life,
Bb
And that's a story that he'll tell you,
F
Down at Easter Road till his throat is raw.
On a Saturday, he knows the score,
D#
Till the whistle blows and,
Bb
The tempers with their colours fade away.
{CHORUS}
D C G
D
On the helipads at Aberdeen
Bound for platforms drilling oil rich seas,
C
Where the trawlers are getting fewer
G
Every year.
D
By the furnaces at Ravenscraig,
By the padlocks holding John Brown's gates,
C G
In the desert, in the fields of South Armagh,
D
Where the poppies grow,
Behind the Hampden roar,
Behind the drums in Genoa.
C G
On the deck that rides a south Atlantic swell,
D
Born to fight out of the tightest corner.
You can bet on him with the odds against you,
C
They'll not put him down
G
No matter how hard they try.
{CHORUS}
Repeat
F D# Bb
till end.
Christer Varan
[email protected]
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#------------------------------------------------------------------------------##
Date: Fri, 8 Dec 1995 14:04:43 GMT+1
From: CHRISTER VARANchrister Varan
Subject: CRD: Lucky by Fish
Hi, Fish lover.
Here's a song I like very much.....
- Lucky -
from the album "Acustic Session" by Fish
D C G
D C G
D
He met with the world as a Dalkeith boy,
Raised from a shaft at Monktonhall
C
In a well oiled cage,
G
That locked away his dreams.
D
An '85 veteran facefrom the gallery,
A ghost from the civil war in the family,
C
He stood his ground on the picketline.
G
'Til all that he was left with,
D
Were his father's cough
And his mother's eyes.
That would hold a tear
For the very first time,
C G
When the government took his job away.
D
Now fist in hand he'll stand in line.
Declare his name and mark his time.
C G
To some the only proof that they're alive.
CHORUS:
F
He could have been you. _|
He could have been me. |
D# | x 2
He could have been anybody |
(Bb) F |
But he was born lucky. _|
F D# Bb
F
He mad his first downpayment,
On a sharp Italian suit.
D# Bb
He sewed razor blades into the lapels,
F
See him sweating on the dancefloor.
Coal dust oozing out of every pore.
D#
A hard man with a hard life,
Bb
And that's a story that he'll tell you,
F
Down at Easter Road till his throat is raw.
On a Saturday, he knows the score,
D#
Till the whistle blows and,
Bb
The tempers with their colours fade away.
{CHORUS}
D C G
D
On the helipads at Aberdeen
Bound for platforms drilling oil rich seas,
C
Where the trawlers are getting fewer
G
Every year.
D
By the furnaces at Ravenscraig,
By the padlocks holding John Brown's gates,
C G
In the desert, in the fields of South Armagh,
D
Where the poppies grow,
Behind the Hampden roar,
Behind the drums in Genoa.
C G
On the deck that rides a south Atlantic swell,
D
Born to fight out of the tightest corner.
You can bet on him with the odds against you,
C
They'll not put him down
G
No matter how hard they try.
{CHORUS}
Repeat
F D# Bb
till end.
Christer Varan
[email protected]
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