Pennies from heaven
Don't make me laugh
Here all you'll get
Is the pattering rain
Or yon two crows up over the hill
Looking for winterkill
Always at your boots
The mud behind the byre
With its clammy hold
Would mock you up a grave
Here in the mire of a wrecked sheepfold

And all you'll bring to this
Is muscle and grit
Persistence, that's just about it
What made you think
There'd be a living in sheep?
Eat, work, eat, work and sleep

Duck under the eaves
Of the bothy
To sit here, caged by rain
Somewhere to go conjure
A next move
When I have to think again
The dog lifts his gaze to plead
Believes the wizard has a magic stick
Leans his weight into my tweed
I give an unholy hand to lick

I take a swig of sheep dip
From my flask
And once again I ask
What made you think
There'd be a living in sheep?
Eat, work, eat, work and sleep

They were at this game
Two hundred years ago
Had thirty ways
Of dying young, poor souls
to rest in their soggy rows
Rain on their holy books
Blood and whisky
On the tongue
And no-one watching over anyone
No-one left but your stubborn one
And the crows and rooks

Ah, the dying young
Well I#m not done
You watch me and I'll watch thee
I can still work for two men
And drink for three

And I raise my flask
To the clearing skies
To you, sweepers
You carrion spies
To scavenge and survive
If you can do it so can I

You can’t fool a fooler
I can tell
when a john got jazzed
by a jezebel
You can’t beat the house
You can’t beat the house
Tell the man somebody
You can’t beat the house

When these horn dogs
get lucky with dough
they’ll blow it on the roosters
and the girls of Smokey Row
You can’t beat the house
You can’t beat the house
Now tell the man somebody
You can’t beat the house

You want to buy you a dance
don’t buy it in here
It’s all skin games and jelly roll
red-eye and beer
They’re all as mean as rat snakes
all got knives in their boots
Even the piano player, man,
he don’t care who he shoots

See that little homewrecker
in the backroom
She’ll pick your pocket
with her pet raccoon
You can’t beat the house
You can’t beat the house
Tell the man, somebody
You can’t beat the house

What do you know about the hammer and the spike
What do you know about the farm
You don't know
You don't know what it's like
Because you don't know
You don't know you're born

What do you know about the hammer and the chisel
You only know the kitchen and the warm
You don't know about the night shift whistle
Punching the clock to the horn
Because you don't know
You don't know you're born

You don't know
You don't know you're born
You don't know
You don't know you're born

What do you know about the hammer and the nails
Know about the thistles and the thorns
What do you know about the road and the rails
Your heart so weary and your hands all worn
Your hands so weary and your heart all torn
And you don't know
You don't know you're born

Ever certain, ever strong
Your song the perfect song
Like a bright star shining on
Your perfect song

Never wavers, never wrong
Your song the perfect song
In my heart where it belongs
Your perfect song

Your eyes in candlelight
Sparkle so true
My words could never shine as bright
But they’ll have to do

Ever certain, ever strong
Your song the perfect song
In my heart where it belongs
Your perfect song
Your perfect song