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Martin Simpson - Never Any Good Lyrics

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  • 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 going 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 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 re-enlist to teach young men
  • The *****y 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,
  • Going 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 only nine years old,
  • Trying to keep her from harm,
  • 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 storeman 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 travellers 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.

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