Martin Simpson | Take It Easy

Apparently, this is one of those special ‘days’ so beloved of the Americans. You know, like National Clip Your Toenails Day (25 April, if you’re interested). As Jim tells us in his post today is Work Harder Day, and he is suggesting that we mark it by playing a song that includes the word ‘work’ or ‘hard’ for Song Lyric Sunday this week. I always like to try and play something for SLS that probably won’t be duplicated by others – variety is good – and I think I’m on incredibly safe ground with the song I’m playing today, as I wouldn’t mind betting that few, if any, will know of either this song or the singer.

Its relative obscurity is, I think, down to this being by an English folk singer – yup, I’m going down the folk music rabbit hole again!. I’ll play the song and share its lyrics, and then I’ll give you some background. This is simply wonderful:

And in keeping with the SLS guidelines here are the lyrics, not that you really need them (they’re a bit long, sorry):

You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job, Not steady enough for the office, Not hard enough for the hod.You’d rather be riding your NortonOr going fishing with your split cane rod.You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job.

When your grammar school days were over, It was nineteen-seventeen, And you did the right and proper thing.You were just eighteen.You were never mentioned in dispatches.You never mentioned what you did or saw.You were just another keen young manIn the mud and stink of war.

You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job, Not steady enough for the office, Not hard enough for the hod.You’d rather be singing the Pirate King, Or going fishing with your split cane rod.You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job.

You came home from the Great WarWith the pips of a captain’s rank.A German officer’s Luger, And no money in the bank.Your family sent you down in the coal mineTo learn to be captain there, But you didn’t stand it very long.You needed the light and the air.

You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job, Not steady enough for the office, Not hard enough for the hod.You’d rather be watching performers flyOr fishing with your split cane rod.You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job.

When the second war came along, You knew what should be done.You would re-enlist to teach young menThe booby trap and the gun; And they sent you home to Yorkshire, With a crew and a Lewis gun, So you could save your seaside townFrom the bombers of the Hun.

You were never any good with money.

You couldn’t even hold a job, Not steady enough for the office, Not hard enough for the hod.You’d rather be finding the nightjar’s nest, Going fishing with your split cane rod.You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job.

And when my mother came to your door, With a baby in her arm, Her big hurt boy only nine years old, Trying to keep her from harm, If you had been a practical man, You would have been forewarned.You would have seen that it never could work, And I would have never been born.

There’s no proper work in your seaside town, So you come here looking for a job.You were storeman at the power stationJust before I came along.Nobody talked about how you quit, But I know that’s what you did.My mother said you were a selfish man, And I was your selfish kid.

You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job, Not steady enough for the office, Not hard enough for the hod; And your Norton it was soon goneAlong with your split cane rod.You were never any good with money.You couldn’t even hold a job.

You showed me eyebright in the hedgerow, Speedwell and travellers joy.You showed me how to use my eyesWhen I was just a boy; And you taught me how to love a songAnd all you knew of nature’s ways:The greatest gifts I have ever known, And I use them every day.

You were never any good with money…

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Martin Simpson

Never Any Good is a track on Prodigal Son, the seventeenth album by Martin Simpson, one of the finest singer-songwriters the English folk music genre has ever produced. The album was released in 2007 and, like almost everything else he has ever recorded, it didn’t achieve any mainstream chart success (just a week each in the top 100 for two of his other albums). It did, however, win the Best Album award at the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards in 2008 and this track won the Best Original Song award. Within his peers, Martin is very highly thought of and much respected. The performance I played is from a live DVD – Prodigal Son, The Concert – which was released in 2009 and also featured Andy Cutting on diatonic accordion, Andy Seward on double bass and Kellie While on backing vocals. I have seen Martin in concert and he tells us the background to the song before playing it: it is, as you may well have gathered, autobiographical, telling of his own father and how in the eyes of many he was a wastrel, who neglected his family and his responsibilities, whilst failing to provide for them with his labours – i.e. he didn’t fit the traditional model of a father. There are various references in the song to how his father spent his time, one of which – ‘singing the Pirate King’ – is about his love for opera and music in general.

But Martin could see beyond the detractors, and delighted in the time he spent with his dad, who taught him about the beauty of nature and also provided a role model as a musician: the first time he ever played on a public stage was in accompanying his father, and his love of music derives from that influence. In an interview he has been quoted as saying of this song “I wrote it out of love, anger and gratitude, I certainly never regarded him as feckless, or as anything other than a really lovely source of everything that was good in life.”

And from another interview: “I saw that Pulp were about to play at the Spar in Bridlington and I was reminded of a time I played this song at that venue, and I completely lost it. I suddenly remembered that my father had played and sung on that stage and I just broke down.” And every time he plays this song those feelings wash over him: I know from seeing him in concert how much it means to him.

So maybe I’m cheating a bit today: whilst the song has an underlying subject of work and how people cope with it, this is really a tribute to a father for the gifts he has bestowed on his son. It is a beautiful song, and I make no apology for bending today’s theme to play it. If being a parent isn’t a form of ‘work’ which can be ‘hard’ at times, I’ll stand corrected, but I don’t think I’m wrong!