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The Old Threshing Mill

As I walked down the road on a fine summer’s morn
I see’d a great combine collecting the corn
When my thoughts wandered back in a moment of joy

To the age of the thresher when I was a boy
All over the valley you’ll hear this great sound
Of the mighty machine on its annual round
All the men from the valley they followed at will

They’d all lend a hand with the old threshing mill
So boil up the bacon and cabbage and greens
With plenty of spuds laced with butter between
For the men from the valley their bellies to fill

It makes a man hungry, the old threshing mill
Now there’s two on the thresher and two on the stack
Thickie bloke with the fork keeps the straw going back
There’s gallons of cider and plenty of fags

Whilst old Larry Andy looks after the bags
Then a few of the boys filled the straw in a rick
Whilst the young ones has fun playing hide and go seek
And meself and me brother with the dog and the cats
Had the time of our lives as we murdered the rats


Now times go on changing for nothing stands still
Larry Andy ee’s gone like the old threshing mill
And most of the workers I knew as a child
We’ll reap the rich harvest for which they did toil

No more in the valley you’ll hear this machine
For just like the corn crakes they’ve gone from the scene
Oh it makes me feel sad as I dream of it still
How I loved the dear sound of that old threshing mill