A room on the top floor

And the chest all but knackered

Two fingers not working

And the back's shot to hell

It's a lifetime of digging trenches

In the cold and wet weather

And for laying half the roadway

In england as well.

You'd finish in the one place

It was straight to the next one

And you never could settle

And you were always alone

Just a drifter in limbo

I was best off away, son

Just one of the thousands

Who could never go home.

That's your mighty man, son

Your mighty man.

Well, the boat and the train ride

In a misty november

We had the worst of the lodgings

And we hated the subs

Ma's face on the leaving

I will always remember

And we wouldn't get paid

Until they had closed up their pubs.

And I could stand up on horseback

Was the man for the singing

Put my hand up for boxing

At the fairground on the heath

I could play my accordion

And charm all of the women

And dance round the taproom

With a chair in my teeth.

That's your mighty man, son

Your mighty man

That's your mighty man, son

Your mighty man.