| Song | Closed Hand, Full of Friends |
| Artist | Foy Vance |
| Album | Joy of Nothing |
| The scenery’s changing and it warms my soul | |
| I’m 200 miles down and a long way yet to go | |
| So get your boots on and your walking coat | |
| And we’ll together leave our footprints out upon the virgin snow | |
| That ancient sunrise will soon descend | |
| And we’ll be left here pondering on the things which we can depend | |
| So let’s start over with no means to an end | |
| Just an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| Yeah, well, London was alright but I was dead in the water | |
| Couldn’t see it in its light, I couldn’t kneel in its altar | |
| All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground | |
| But I’m feeling alright now, yeah, I’m feeling alright | |
| Every morning when the coffee’s on | |
| And I rediscover that color in your eyes, in its gold and its bronze | |
| And in the moonlight we'll get the candles going | |
| With the recitations of the parish poets popping on our tongues | |
| Yeah, well, London was alright but I was dead in the water | |
| Could see it’s light, I couldn’t kneel in its altar | |
| All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground | |
| And it stank from the feet of it's culture | |
| I'd hide away from wolves and the vultures | |
| All they wanted was to tear me right down to the ground | |
| Oh, I’m feeling alright, I am now, yeah, I’m feeling alright | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an open-hearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends |
| The scenery' s changing and it warms my soul | |
| I' m 200 miles down and a long way yet to go | |
| So get your boots on and your walking coat | |
| And we' ll together leave our footprints out upon the virgin snow | |
| That ancient sunrise will soon descend | |
| And we' ll be left here pondering on the things which we can depend | |
| So let' s start over with no means to an end | |
| Just an openhearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| Yeah, well, London was alright but I was dead in the water | |
| Couldn' t see it in its light, I couldn' t kneel in its altar | |
| All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground | |
| But I' m feeling alright now, yeah, I' m feeling alright | |
| Every morning when the coffee' s on | |
| And I rediscover that color in your eyes, in its gold and its bronze | |
| And in the moonlight we' ll get the candles going | |
| With the recitations of the parish poets popping on our tongues | |
| Yeah, well, London was alright but I was dead in the water | |
| Could see it' s light, I couldn' t kneel in its altar | |
| All I wanted was to tear it right down to the ground | |
| And it stank from the feet of it' s culture | |
| I' d hide away from wolves and the vultures | |
| All they wanted was to tear me right down to the ground | |
| Oh, I' m feeling alright, I am now, yeah, I' m feeling alright | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an openhearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an openhearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an openhearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends | |
| In the recitations of the parish poets | |
| In the buildings, in the burrows, in the Loch Tay boats | |
| I will find my means to an end | |
| With an openhearted hope and a closed hand, full of friends |