1. |
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The ant and the grasshopper, everyone knows how the story goes,
How the ant was diligent, never spent
Anything lightly, he laboured wisely,
And gathered his store for tomorrow.
As for the grasshopper, glad of the summer sunshine,
Light as the wind on the broken water,
His song he gave to the summer days,
Singing, “Where the dance leads I'll follow.”
Then came a hard winter, nothing grew, and the cold wind blew,
But the ant was safe and sound, underground.
Carefully counting his pile around him,
Dividing his time until tomorrow.
As for the grasshopper, blown by the north wind's fury,
Hungering for the easy summer,
Comes to the ant and says, “My brother, give me bread,
Now's the dance that I must follow.”
“Why did you waste the summer, summers don't last forever,
You're just an idle beggar, you must pay the price, sacrifice.
You would not heed me, you took life easy -
Take the punishment that follows.”
Now see the grasshopper reel like a dry leaf falling,
Weaving a dance that will last forever,
Back goes the ant to his nest to work, to feed, to rest,
For him there will always be tomorrow.
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2. |
Harry's Gone Fishing
06:12
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3. |
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He was one of those dogged old men
Who live in the past, telling stories you don't want to know
About how it was then, the hunger, the hardship
The hopes and the struggles of so long ago
And we must have looked bored, for like sparks from the cinders
His eyes glowed with anger, his words seemed to burn
He said, "I will be heard, for my life is not over-
I've something to say yet, and you've something to learn"
He said, "You, who have nothing at all to believe in
Oh you, who's motto is 'money comes first,'
Who are you to tell us that our lives have been wasted
And all that we fought for has turned into dust?"
I was only a lad, when we read that in Russia
The workers, the Soviets, had taken all power
And the man they called Lenin, who led them, was our inspiration
His triumph was our finest hour
And I'll always remember how fear shook the wealthy
Like thieves who have just been caught out in their crime
But we, who had known only war and the workhouse
Rejoiced, as a new world was born at that time
You can't know what it meant, and the pride that we felt
To know working people, people like us
Could shake off the shackles, could topple the palaces
Remake the world without ruler or boss
It was this kept us going, this dream of a new world
Through all those dark years of defeat and despair
When we who were proud to proclaim ourselves communists
Fought for that world free from hunger and fear
It was down with the means test, no cuts in our wages
We want three pounds a week and the seven hour day!
And there wasn't a thing that we got, but we fought for it
Don't you know bosses give nothing away?
And the strikes and the marches, the battles to beat off
The bailiffs and coppers when hope was still young
Hot heads and hot hearts, as we tested our power
"The workers triumphant!" - that was our song
For a time, he was silent, and lost in his memories
Then, but more softly, his words came again -
Perhaps we hoped for too much, perhaps the cost was too much
There are things I know now that I couldn't know then
We believed revolution was just round the corner
And we were the vanguard to bring it about
And the other left parties we classed as class traitors
Bourgeois social fascists, of that we no doubt!
And then the times changed, we campaigned for the popular front
The old line might never have been
But we led the workers in combating fascism
Mosley in London and Franco in Spain
We believed we were history's chosen
And Soviet Russia, our future, our heart and our soul
And the Five Year Plan was a vision of plenty
For us who'd lived half of our lives on the dole
We knew of the trials and purges of course
And were shocked when we heard those old comrades confess
But, yes, we defended the first worker's state
In the face of the slander and lies of the press
And you, who have nothing at all to believe in
Oh you, who's motto is 'money comes first,'
Who are you to tell us that our lives have been wasted
And all that we fought for has turned into dust?
You may think we were duped, well we paid for our dreams-
Broken lives, broken marriages, jobs lost and jail
Some lost heart and left, some betrayed us for medals
There are always some turncoats who's souls are for sale
But the best of us never surrendered our vision
And we kept the faith through the bleakest defeat
Do you think that was easy, surrounded by hatred
The sneer of indifference, the hurt of deceit?
And our lives were made rich by the cause that we fought for
The friendship the fellowship, sharing one aim
To transform society, end exploitation
And that day will come yet, but not in my time
Again he was silent, and what could we tell him?
That the world now was different, that he'd had his day?
That an old man's dreams were not our concern?
But still, there was something he wanted to say-
Now when I look back, I see what we fought against-
Homelessness, hunger, injustice and war
But what did we fight for? What dream did we strive for?
I used to know once, now I'm no longer sure
But you, who have nothing at all to believe in
Oh you, who's motto is 'money comes first,'
Who are you to tell us that our lives have been wasted
And all that we fought for has turned into dust?
He was one of those lonely old men
Who lived in the past, telling stories you don't want to know
About how it was then, the hunger, the hardship
The hopes and the struggles of so long ago
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4. |
Susie
07:12
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5. |
The Years Grow Tall
03:05
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6. |
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7. |
Don't Get Married Girls
03:36
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8. |
Palaces of Gold
03:34
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If the sons of company directors,
And judges' private daughters,
Had to go to school in a slum school,
Dumped by some joker in a damp back alley,
Had to herd into classrooms cramped with worry,
With a view onto slagheaps and stagnant pools,
Had to file through corridors grey with age,
And play in a crackpot concrete cage.
Chorus (repeated after each verse):
Buttons would be pressed,
Rules would be broken.
Strings would be pulled
And magic words spoken.
Invisible fingers would mould
Palaces of gold.
If prime ministers and advertising executives,
Royal personages and bank managers' wives
Had to live out their lives in dank rooms,
Blinded by smoke and the foul air of sewers.
Rot on the walls and rats in the cellars,
In rows of dumb houses like mouldering tombs.
Had to bring up their children and watch them grow
In a wasteland of dead streets where nothing will grow.
I'm not suggesting any kind of a plot,
Everyone knows there's not,
But you unborn millions might like to be warned
That if you don't want to be buried alive by slagheaps,
Pit-falls and damp walls and rat-traps and dead streets,
Arrange to be democratically born
The son of a company director
Or a judge's fine and private daughter.
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9. |
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10. |
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11. |
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Why does it have to be me
Why can't they just let me be
Why do I have to do things I don't want to do
Why does it have to be me
Each morning I lie in my bed
Slippery dreams in my head
I live in a fine fairy castle of stone,
All on my own, no-one to moan
Then a voice shouts get up and it isn't a dream
Hurry-up you're late for school and wash your face and brush your
teeth and are your fingers clean
And it goes on and on 'till I'm ready to scream
Why does it have to be me?
Why do I have to eat greens
Cabbage and spinach and beans
I don't mind potatoes, I'll even have meat
Though I'd much rather eat
Ice-cream and sweets
They say greens are good for me, maybe they're right
But sometimes I think that they do it for spite
And I've never seen them eating what they don't like
So why does it have to be me
Now why can't I play my own games
Somebody always complains
Whenever I'm playing at monsters or bears
Jumping off chairs, falling down stairs
It's don't be so noisy, or go out and play
Or look for a book if you're going to stay
But the problem is they always get in my way
So why does it have to be me?
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12. |
Nancy Kerr Sheffield, UK
Folk Singer of the Year BBC Folk Awards 2015
"Outstanding chamber folk" (The
Guardian) "Folk's Poet Laureate" (FRUK) "One of the UK’s foremost composers of modern folk and social commentary songs” (Royal Shakespeare Company).
Photo credits: James Fagan, Elly Lucas
Album design: Lizzy Doe
... more
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