Henry's Songbook

   The man of the earth, the man of the soil
   In his lonely allotment he labours and toils
   There's not much to do since he turned sixty-five
   So he took to his garden to keep him alive
   And I think it's his joy and his pride

Every day as I go through the old shanty town
Where the sheds and allotments all stand
I see an old man on his land
With a rake or a spade in his hands
And he's there in all weather
In sunshine or rain and I hesitate as I go past
Is he happy or sad with his task
Oh I haven't the time for to ask

Fifty years in the ironworks broke his will
And his back and his shoulders are round
There was no other work in the town
So they had him both fettered and bound
Then all of a sudden he turned sixty-five
And his bosses said, Thank you my man
And they stuck a gold watch in his hand
And behind him the door quickly slammed

Every Saturday evening he's down at the pub
And he stands by himself at the bar
Slowly sipping a solitary jar
For the pension won't go very far
So he sells a few things to his neighbours and friends
A few of the things that he grows
But he's got to watch out how he goes
Or they'll stop all his pension he knows

Every day as I go through the old shanty town
Where the sheds and allotments all stand
I see an old man on his land
With a rake or a spade in his hands
But I really can't linger I must be gone
For I work in the ironworks too
I started there five years ago
Only forty-five more to go

[1995:] God willing, when I retire I'm going to live on an allotment. I learned this song from the writer, Bernie Parry, back in the early 70s. (Notes Vin Garbutt, 'Plugged!')

[2000:] Bernie was thinking of his father when he wrote it. I remember the first time I saw him, in a singaround, in Whitby I think. "People think Vin Garbutt wrote this song, but I did" he said - and sang Man of the Earth [...]. One thing that always strikes me is that this song is set in its time now, and that's a world away from today: "I work in the iron works too I started there five years ago, only forty five more years to go." No one could write those lines now. The job for life and the ironworks and so forth are gone, for good or ill. It's get-by-how-you-may time now. (McGrath of Harlow, http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=25303#298753 , 16 Sep)