The Butcher of Wartburg County Verse 1 Basti used to wield the cleaver, Cutting through all night, With blood and bone around him, His mood was always bright. He traded knives for the keys, Left the slaughter floor, Now he rides through Wartburg County, Chasing music, nothing more. Chorus All through the Rhön, from Schweina to Geisa, The roads are long, to Frankenroda. Basti pays the price, whatever the cost, For music’s gain, even when sleep is lost. The butcher rides, the butcher playes, Wherever Shteff him sends. Verse 2 Through Tiefenort or Ifta, To Eisenach on winding miles, Basti brings a storm of power, And a crooked, fearless smile. No dead sheep on his shoulders, A Rhön beer in his hands, And a sax that cuts like a razor, His sounds shake Bad Salzungen. Chorus All through the Rhön, from Schweina to Geisa, The roads are long, to Frankenroda. Basti pays the price, whatever the cost, For music’s gain, even when sleep is lost. The butcher rides, the butcher playes, Wherever Shteff him sends Bridge He’s not about the slaughter, He’s not about the knife, The saxophone his weapon, The keyboard is his life. Wartburg country thunders, Across the party nights, A butcher turned to music, A soul that’s burning bright. Final Chorus All through the Rhön, from Schweina to Geisa, The roads are long, to Frankenroda. Basti pays the price, whatever the cost, For music’s gain, even when sleep is lost. The butcher rides, the butcher playes, Through the green heart of Germany [saxophone] Outro Through Wartburg’s hills Basti will always roam, A butcher’s past, now the stage his home.
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