So talk to me of freedom,
When they take your sweat
And throw you on the dole,
Like a useless worn-out bone.
They say to have no fear,
We've work for fifty years,
But they'll take your job if labour is cheaper.
Yes, they will.
They'll take your job where labour is cheaper.
When he worked in the factory,
Times were good and overtime was plenty,
And life it seemed so fine,
Had the crack with the lads and a jar,
And worries seemed so far.
Life is just for living when you're twenty.
Yes it is.
Life is just for living when you're twenty.
And then he settled down,
In a three bedroom in a new suburban town,
Did his duty like Mr. Jones.
The morgage rent was paid,
Kids were fed and raised.
Life was different when he was thirty.
Yes it was.
Life was different when he was thirty.
Then prices began to fall,
And the morning siren never more did call,
And he knew the anger of hate,
When they padlocked the factory gate,
Oh life was different when he was forty.
Yes it was.
Life was different when he was forty.
Now each day is like yesterday,
His driftwood spirit lies upon the shore,
He's been to retraining schools,
Learned how to use new tools,
But he's still unemployed and fifty.
Yes he is.
He's still unemployed and fifty.
