Dear Bathsheeba Everdene

Lyrics
Well dear Bathsheeba Everdene On the farm that you keep Have you room for a wee fine herdsman Of twenty-five shillings a week? I've worked a lot of places And I think I know the job And as we both love Thomas Hardy Then make it thirty bob But you're a writer, not a farmer So I'd better change my trade I'll take up writing songs Cos for this I'm surely made And I'll keep the words in order Instead of herding cows And let the cocks lay the hens And the hogs get in with the sows But this will produce chaos So let's havе another look You hire professional landsmеn And I'll buy me a book And fill it full of songs for you While you entertain All the local gentry I'll be working down the lane But still things that aren't as in the plot A hit record is what I need So I'll make a wonderful LP And as a chivalrous deed I'll dedicate it to you Then to the cottage I'll retire While it zooms down the charts At one hundred miles an hour But then about page two hundred As Thomas Hardy fans all know I'll lie down, win or lose you But it doesn't matter for now It's the fun we'll have in the meantime Writing and farming away You in the house, me in the cottage Both wondering "When's the day?"
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Credits
- Writers
- Mike Hart