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