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Brave OST - 10 - Song of Mor'du
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Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Billy Connolly
Billy Connolly
Voix principales
Alex Norton
Alex Norton
Chœurs
Carey Wilson
Carey Wilson
Chœurs
Scott Davies
Scott Davies
Chœurs
Gordon Neville
Gordon Neville
Chœurs
Chris Stout
Chris Stout
Violon folklorique
James Shearman
James Shearman
Direction d’orchestre
London Symphony Orchestra
London Symphony Orchestra
Orchestre
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Patrick Doyle
Patrick Doyle
Composition
James Shearman
James Shearman
Orchestration
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Maggie Rodford
Maggie Rodford
Production
Andrew Dudman
Andrew Dudman
Ingénierie de mixage
Andy Walter
Andy Walter
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Tom MacDougall
Tom MacDougall
Supervision de prise de son

Paroles

I've hunted for him high 'n' low, I've looked him in the eye I dream about the perfect way tae make this devil die Come taste ma blade, ya manky bear, for gobblin' up ma leg! I'll hunt ye then I'll skin ye, hang your noggin on a peg! Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! You're ancient as the highlands and as unforgivin' too Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! Now the time has come for all of us tae slaughter you! He's bigger than a Cuillin, killin' armies with his paws Mor'du is never happy 'til the blood runs from his jaws He murders in the mountains and he fights with ev'ry clan His teeth and jowls have ripped the hearts fae many a highland man Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! He's stolen lads and lassies and wee 'bonnie babies too'! Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! Now the time has come for all of us tae slaughter you! Through glen and bog and peat and fog, we'll find your furry lair And then we'll lance you, make you dance, you bear that are nae mair We'll roast your rump, add haggis and neeps, and fry your blue blood black We'll mix a slice of thigh with spice and grill you on the rack Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! We'll bile yur heed wae dumplin' breed tae make an ursine stew Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! Now the time has come for all the clans tae slaughter you! We'll make his hide a cozy chair, his head upon the wall We'll splash a dram of whiskey on his snout at every ball Tales will tell from glen to glen of how we slayed the beast And all will toast brave highland men at every royal feast Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! The legend spreads from fire tae fire, of the devil that we slew Mor'du, Mor'du Mor'du, Mor'du! Now the time has come for all the clans tae slaughter you!
Writer(s): Patrick Doyle, Steve Purcell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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