Hard by the side of the railway line
There's a plot of land which the diesels pass
A mass of weeds but the soil is fine And
the edge it is marked with strips of grass
In summer time it springs to life And
yields the fruits we've come to trust
I go there with a bag and knife And stagger homeward in the dusk
Dad made the soil both rich and dark
And Grandad built the wooden shed
Heedless bombers missed the mark
The plot survived and the street was fed
Developers were turned away And built across the railway track
Workmen dumped a mound of clay But this old patch kept fighting back
Pull
your boots on, son of mine
We'll both go together to pay respects
We'll gather spuds and if there's time
We'll dig with mud up to our necks This blessed plot,
this earth,
this realm
We'll load the barrow till it's full This little world,
I'll take the helm
This earth of majesty,
you pull We'll cut some kale
This precious stone,
this fortress built by nature
Then this other Eden,
we'll head home This damned paradise again