Henry's Songbook

Fifty-three and the factory's closing, there's not enough work to go round
My brother he stuck to the farming and I headed out for London town
So Camden and I'm in my lodgings, the room is both dirty and small
But the landlady's simple and friendly, makes up for the damp on the wall

Seven-thirty a.m. in the morning, myself and the lads on the road
The noise of the dozers is deafening and the work is a sight to behold
And there's some days a gift sent from Heaven, it'll bide me until I get paid
It'll pay for the rent and the drinking and leave me a bit for to save

Now I've worked for Laing and for Wimpey, I've been sent from Billy to Jack
I've worked till there's nothing left in me and I've worked till I've broken my back
Come payday I'm out on the bunter, there's not a lot else for to do
I send a few bob to my parents and the rest is for me and for you

Come Christmas I'm standing in Euston, my brown leather suitcase in hand
And the nine-thirty waiting to take me back over to sweet Inishmaan
And it's out beyond Watford and Rugby, by Chester I've had my eighth beer
Past Bangor and the cold Straits of Menai and finally Holyhead Pier

You'd think the whole country of Erin was waiting to get on the boat
There's accents from Antrim to Kerry, from Westport to the high hills of Howth
And in no time we're into Dun Laoghaire, and the dawn rising clear in the sky
I'm on the last leg of my journey, it's hello to the fair Aran Isles

There's much jubilation and laughter, it's true that there's no place like home
Well all of my friends and relations for too soon I have to be gone
There's not enough work in this country, there's not enough land to go round
So thousands of others just like me, we're heading out for London town

(as sung by Tom McConville)