(Jez Lowe)
I've never been nearer to nettles
As now when my life's nearly through
They promised we would live in fine fettle
If we did all they told us to do
So we gave not a thought to tomorrow,
Just today as you do when you're young
Now I've never been nearer to nettles,
To the thought, Sure as hell we've been stung
They sang an old song, a new one to me
Of hard times in the loom-weaving trade
I could tell you some tales of hard times myself
But for me things were never that bad
They sang how they only had nettles to eat
And yesterday's bread if you please
I've never been so close to eating such stuff
As I have been these past recent days
I've never been so sentimental, you know
For those days we all knew long ago
I would far rather live with the flick of the switch
Than the candle, the cart-horse and so
All this technology means nothing to me
Though they reckon it's just what we need
Why can't it be used for the good of us all
Not for tools for their trading in greed
There's a government now, down in London they sit
Deep under the tower of Big Ben
It chimed for us all in wartime and peace
But it seems now it chimes just for them
They sit under those hands turning tell-timing true (?)
They decide what we all need to live
And the big hand they use to take things away
And the small hand they use to give
(as sung by Iain MacKintosh)