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lyrics

Is this a holy thing to see,
In a rich and fruitful land?
Babes reduced to misery
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor,
'Tis a land of poverty

And the sun does never shine,
And the fields are bleak and bare
And their ways are filled with thorns,
It is eternal winter there

For where'er the sun does shine
And where'er the rain does fall
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appal.

credits

from Nose to the Grindstone EP, released June 27, 2018
William Blake - lyrics
Tom May - vocals, garage band instrumentation.

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Dream Cargoes Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK

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