Biografía:
Fish es el nombre artístico del escocés Derek William Dick (Edimburgo, Escocia, 25 de abril de 1958 - ). Es un compositor y cantante de rock progresivo. Creció y fue educado en el pueblo de Dalkeith, Escocia. Después de una irregular carrera como empleado de una gasolinera, jardinero, empleado de la Comisión de Bosques e inspector de sistemas contra incendio, en 1981 llegó a la atención del público como vocalista del grupo Marillion, en el cual permaneció siete años.
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¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
#----------------------------------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]
Fishboy
Fisher
Fisher Z
Fiskales Ad-Hok
Fismoll