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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
Lucius Lyr Req: Never Any Good (Martin Simpson) (32) Lyr Add: NEVER ANY GOOD (Martin Simpson) 24 Aug 07


NEVER ANY GOOD - Martin Simpson

You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be riding your Norton or going fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.

When your grammar school days were over, it was nineteen-seventeen,
And you did the right and proper thing. You were just eighteen.
You were never mentioned in dispatches. You never mentioned what you did or saw.
You were just another keen young man in the mud and stink of war.

You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be singing The Pirate King or fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.

You came home from the Great War with the pips of a captain's rank,
A German officer's Luger and no money in the bank.
Your family sent you down in the coal mine to learn to be captain there,
But you didn't stand it very long. You needed the light and the air.

You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be watching performers fulmars fly or fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.

When the Second War came along, you knew what should be done.
You would reenlist to teach young men the booby trap and the gun;
And they sent you home to Yorkshire with a crew and a Lewis gun
So you could save your seaside town from the bombers of the Hun.

You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be finding the nightjar's nest or fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.

And when my mother came to your door with a baby in her arm,
Her big hurt boy, just nine years old, trying to keep her from harmó
If you had been a practical man, you would have been forewarned.
You would have seen that it never could work and I would have never been born.

There's no proper work in your seaside town, so you come here looking for a job.
You were store man at the power station just before I came along.
Nobody talked about how you quit, but I know that's what you did.
My mother said you were a selfish man and I was your selfish kid.

You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, not hard enough for the hod.
And your Norton it was soon gone along with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.

You showed me eyebright in the hedgerow, speedwell and traveler's joy.
You showed me how to use my eyes when I was just a boy.
And you taught me how to love a song, and all you knew of nature's ways,
The greatest gifts I have ever known and I use them every day.

You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job,
Not steady enough for the office, maybe, not hard enough for the hod.
You'd rather be riding your Norton or going fishing with your split cane rod.
You were never any good with money. You couldn't even hold a job.


    Message moved from an ADD thread - we try to keep all information on a song in one thread, so there's no need to have a separate thread to add lyrics, chords, or whatever.
    -Joe Offer-


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