Bring home the raucous sounds of the finest Dorset Cowpunk
Available on CD digifile and 12" Vinyl
Includes unlimited streaming of Welcome to Pronghorn Country
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 3 days
Purchasable with gift card
£12GBPor more
Record/Vinyl + Digital Album
Pre-order the vinyl now
Expected delivery mid-late November, 2022
Includes unlimited streaming of Welcome to Pronghorn Country
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 3 days
Purchasable with gift card
£25GBPor more
lyrics
Hey Ho, get on my land, Mosh in the pit to a festival band,
Cider down nice, with the next refill, Roll in the grass and the mud and the swill.
The familiar pound and the squelching sound, Echoes from the Cider makers,
Settle down and drink a round, With the Spud Faced Chancers.
Take a shot and raise the bar, then kick up a dust in the ol' barn stomp,
Mighty fine vibes and mighty swell, pay me what you owe me in a festival romp,
The familiar pound and the squelching sound, Echoes from the Cider makers,
Settle down and drink a round, Along with The Spud Faced Chancers.
Dorset Thrills and Rollin' hills, In a festival full of defiance,
A Dorset man can crush a Pronghorn, In the shadow of the Cerne Abbas Giant.
The familiar pound and the squelching sound, Echoes from the Cider makers,
Settle down and drink a round, Along with The Spud Faced Chancers.
Scrump around, jump up and down, and mosh in the pit with the farmers,
Tanners, Stubbard, Symes Seedling, Dorset Apple Tangy Yeovil Sour's.
The familiar pound and the squelching sound, Echoes from the Cider makers,
Settle down and drink a round, with The Spud Faced Chancers.
Get on my land, drink up quick, Cider by the pint, spud faced chancers. X2
Cider I up from the gates of shell, With fermented juice of apples,
Give me 40 Cider Press ups, and spend £18 quid on falafels,
The familiar pound and the squelching sound, Echoes from the Cider makers,
Settle down and drink a round, Along with The Spud Faced Chancers.
Hey Ho, get on my land, mosh to a band, Drink up quick,
Next refill, Cider by the pint, mud and the swill. Spud faced chancers.
Get on my land, Hey Ho,
Drink up quick, to a festival band,
Cider by the pint, with the next refill,
Spud faced chancer, the mud and the swill.
Why don't you drink up quick, with the spud faced chancers?
Why don't you drink up quick, with the spud faced chancers?
Why don't you drink up quick, with the spud faced chancers?
Why don't you drink up quick, with the spud faced chancers?
Cider by the pint, get on my land!
Cider by the pint, get on my land!
Cider by the pint, get on my land!
Cider by the pint, get on my land!
From the heady days of blagging festival wristbands and jumping security fences, armed with an array of kitchen apparatus
which were subsequently bashed and thumped to the percussive rhythm of various stringed instruments, Pronghorn have streamlined their operation down to a straight six, and with the maturity of a well-aged cider, have become a potent brew with an abv% that could pickle turnips...more
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