LET ME ROCK, IN MY ARMS, YOUR WEARY HEAD.
©Trev Teasdel Coventry  August 1976.


When your engine gets tired of pulling all those coaches
And your fire stokers have stoked their weary lot.
And your chimney stacks can release no more smoke.
Like a train, make a line to the resting shed
And let me rock, in my arms, your weary head.


If your life is an endless round of chores
And there is no one to count on to share the tasks
When your clock is over wound and refuses to go
and you don’t have the time to let those silent tears be shed.
I will rock, in my arms, your weary head.


On having smoked your last cigarette
and the off license and pub have long been shut
And you’re stranded alone with nothing to pull you through
and you need someone to share your bed.
I will rock, in my arms, your weary head.


Bridge
A man needs a women who needs a man to do what a man can do.
And I need you to need me to do what love was meant to do.
It’s true..


He may want to touch you in the places
that respond to the gentle touch.
He may want to very much
Don’t let him, let me instead
Rock in my arms your weary head.