Fincairn Flax (Hasson-Collins) Its like a thousand years ago i first left out me pen With brogan boots and wrinkled coat i went to join the men. For one and six a day we worked and broke our backs Pulling fields of lint to make the Fincairn flax. We wash our hands and faces and we disinfect our clothes We scrub behind our kneecaps and we clean between our toes We douse our hair with hair oil and run it down our backs But sure as hell you still can smell the Fincairn flax. We steeped it and we spread it and we dried it in the sun And we lifted it and tied it and the work was never done We only wanted rest, for we were dropping in our tracks, But the ladies wanted hankies made of Fincairn flax. Well our hands were cut and blistered our knees were all in red And the achin' in our muscles ah you might as well be dead But the farmer stood and glowered as we built the linten stacks And he thought about the money from the Fincairn flax. And when we meet Saint Peter he'll say come right through For its pointless giving penance to a man who worked liked you To ask you to do penance is to ask you to relax For Hell is fun compared with working Fincairn flax. This is off an old Barley Bree album titled No Mans Land (Shanachie 52012) FX apr00
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!