The Fen Men

Speaking of trains, one thing that really put the wind up me is that ride between Kings Lynn and Cambridge. I see all that flat land what were once underwater and you know I can't for the life of me see what's to prevent that being flooded again. All that water shut back in them dykes, that make me think of power shut in a cage. That make me think of Rhodesian Negroes, or Trade Unions, or the IRA, and if power break loose that ain't no good talking softly to it, and saying “get you back in your cage”. There's about as much difference between might and right as what there is between hatchet and chopper.

There are farmers a living in the fens which once was the floor of the sea And it might very well be sea again if the water in the dyke get free So beware of the hour when the captive power of the water in the dyke get free

There are gangs of men a-hoeing of the peat on the sooty black fields where they grow But the walls of the dykes stand forty feet above the men who hoe So beware of the hour when the captive power of the water in the dyke get free.

There are families a living in the fen where they've every right to be But what the water care for the rights of men or the right of a family So beware of the hour when the captive power of the water in the dyke get free

And supposing the fenmen are stood as firmly as can be He'd be gathered up like so much wood and be carried out to sea So beware of the hour when the captive power of the water in the dyke get free