Home Counties Boy - Martin Newell

When I was young

Dark were the trees

Houses are now where there once were fields

And summers were long

The trains ran on steam

I was a boy from the home counties

«And don’t drop your H’s,» my mum said to me

If you want a job where your hands will be clean

But there was no way I’d dress in grey

And go up to London to earn my pay

Having to say «thank you» and «please»

I was a boy from the home counties

And now I’m as free as the times let me be

And no one’s the guv’nor apart from me

So I’ll mow your lawn or I’ll prune your trees

'Cause I am a boy from the home counties

I don’t want your house and I don’t want your car

I reckon I’d die if I was like you are

So spade in my hands and mud on my knees

I am a boy from the home counties

Spade in my hands and mud on my knees

I am a boy from the home counties