Songs of the Spud Line

[Verse 1] Out where the mist meets the valley glow We lift the spuds in a measured flow Boots in the furrows keep time, keep time Fifty long winters, we climb, we climb [Chorus] Ho, hey, lads, let the voices ring (hey!) Turn that soil like a cradle swing (ho!) From the byre to the old slate green We sing the spud that keeps our hands keen Ho, hey, clan, let the echoes roll Tater-born labor in a weathered fold [Verse 2] Names in the stone and the loam-worn skin We walk the rows where our kin walked in Rain on our backs and a laughing shout Line down the field as we shake them out [Chorus] Ho, hey, lads, let the voices ring (hey!) Turn that soil like a cradle swing (ho!) From the byre to the old slate green We sing the spud that keeps our hands keen Ho, hey, clan, let the echoes roll Tater-born labor in a weathered fold [Bridge] Low voices hum like a harbour line (mmm) High voices rise like a hillside pine (ahh) Hands on the fork, hearts in the tune We dig together ‘til the red hill moon [Chorus] Ho, hey, lads, let the voices ring (hey!) Turn that soil like a cradle swing (ho!) From the byre to the old slate green We sing the spud that keeps our hands keen Ho, hey, clan, let the echoes roll Tater-born labor in a weathered fold