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Record/Vinyl + Digital Album
Includes unlimited streaming of Last of the Analogue Age
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 1 day
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€18EURor more
Streaming + Download
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Purchasable with gift card
€1EUR or more
lyrics
The Midday Class
• Like a hangover dense as a city smog , followed me like a big black dog
I couldn’t face them on the floor so I spent the morning in the bog
Felt like a century long sixteen years, since we lifted Sam up by the big ears
When the foreman wrapped upon the door, I swore I wouldn’t drink for sixteen more
His face looked like someone had died, the news had broken when we arrived
The young ones hearts had hit the floor, our jobs were off to Bangalore
There was two weeks statutory pay, two flat weeks for every year
As the bills clog up the letter box, that won’t take long to disappear
Drunk as a rule, propped on the tall stool, the first one here to leave the last
But I’m back on song, back where I belong, once again among the Midday Class.
• In the neighbourhood there was nothing doing, with a job as rare as the sun in June
So we smoked some puff & cards were played, sold socks & jocks & razor blades.
See when times are tough, they are at their peak in the underground economy
When middle Ireland is in decline, the fakes as good as genuine
So we’re poor unkempt but we’re tax exempt, our labour days are long since past
with self-esteem sold by the glass when you move among the Midday Class.
• Those Europeans are a sneaky shower, wrestled away the reins of power
They’ll be implementing tax galore 'til we’re back to days of half a door
There is no room in the dole queues while at the polling stations there are but few
When once we fought with hurls & tools to defend the right to our home rule
So were no-one’s slaves, we are an enclave, autonomy from a silver flask
Through the civil shackles cleanly pass, the tattooed limbs of the Midday Class.
• Now our way of life good folks resent in the courthouse of public sentiment
'til on the road to Damascus, they’re gunned down, moments after enlightenment
You break your back to pay your stamps, you live your life out like a tramp
Believing you’ll get your fair share & the hounds believes he’ll catch the hare.
Come join the unwaged, leave your debts unpaid, see the world through amber glass
Let you burden ease into a dizzy gaze, in an afternoon with the Midday Class.
Gosh. Someone has shapeshifted into my life.
A testament to incredible songwriting and musicianship by those with mastery of their craft, in my humble opinion.
So grateful for art that gives voice to life's experiences and dreams and all that really matters. This is music that really matters.
have heart, will listen
