See the red-neck climb the cobbled streets casting roses around
Little old ladies hang from windows tears rolling right to the ground
Seven men down in a hole everyone of them is dead
And it would have been better if he'd stayed home in his big fat bed
I feel sorry for that man, I know he's doing the best he can
He might sit at home and sip his dinner wine but God help the poor swine
God help the poor swine
Smart wife, posing and gracious [or Smart wife pours the 'Earl Gray' says]
"How's it going today?"
Chinless wonder son fusses in the hall, don't even hear his call
Goes to his room and lies on the bed feeling sick and low
Flash car in the drive, but, man alive! There's nowhere he can go
I feel sorry for that man, I know he's doing the best he can
He might sit at home and sip his dinner wine but God help the poor swine
God help the poor swine
He needs help, can't help himself
We feel smart cause we got roots wearing our big pit boots
We feel so grand, we think we understand
With our red, gnarled hands
But we don't see that an M. B. E.* can lead to grief and pain
Oh I love that man, I think I understand although he don't know my name
I feel sorry for that man
I know he's doing the best he can
He might sit at home and sip his dinner wine
But God help the poor swine (x2)
Little old ladies hang from windows tears rolling right to the ground
Seven men down in a hole everyone of them is dead
And it would have been better if he'd stayed home in his big fat bed
I feel sorry for that man, I know he's doing the best he can
He might sit at home and sip his dinner wine but God help the poor swine
God help the poor swine
Smart wife, posing and gracious [or Smart wife pours the 'Earl Gray' says]
"How's it going today?"
Chinless wonder son fusses in the hall, don't even hear his call
Goes to his room and lies on the bed feeling sick and low
Flash car in the drive, but, man alive! There's nowhere he can go
I feel sorry for that man, I know he's doing the best he can
He might sit at home and sip his dinner wine but God help the poor swine
God help the poor swine
He needs help, can't help himself
We feel smart cause we got roots wearing our big pit boots
We feel so grand, we think we understand
With our red, gnarled hands
But we don't see that an M. B. E.* can lead to grief and pain
Oh I love that man, I think I understand although he don't know my name
I feel sorry for that man
I know he's doing the best he can
He might sit at home and sip his dinner wine
But God help the poor swine (x2)
* M.B.E.: "Member of the British Empire" --it's an award given by the government in England for distinguished civilian service (Rob)
inviata da Donquijote82 - 14/5/2014 - 20:23
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1974
(Kevin Coyne)
( Robert Olver has this "analysis" of the song which I think is really good:"The opening verse describes the funeral procession of 7 miners killed in a mining accident..."pit boots" are the big boots miners wear...members of the procession casting roses while ladies look down from windows and cry...our "poor swine" is the mine owner or boss who is heartsick about what's happened, but is blamed for it. In fact, this is one of my favorite Coyne songs. One of the great things about Kevin is that he often expresses sentiments that no one else does and this is a prime example. We often hear about the discrimination of the upper classes against the lower, but this is the only song I know of that talks about the reverse situation.")