Poor Martin (feat. Dj KIRSA)

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Here's a little story bout a man named Martin
Labouring the fields his spade he sharpen
Nobody paid no mind discard him
Solo all alone his heart had hardened
Paid as a serf no loot no margin
Dig away the time his life departing
Hope dishearten the skies did darken
Kept to himself no talk no barking
Gave all is his time all he got was a dime
And some young cheap wine that he though rather fine
Nobody asked they knew he didn't mind
Nobody asked people too unkind

His face was grave, made freshly shaved
Digging, the Earth digging his own grave
Six feet deep wasn't necessary for a man like him
So he just dug three
His face was grave, made freshly shaved
Digging, the Earth digging his own grave
Six feet deep wasn't necessary for a man like him
So he just dug three

All he did was was work never did unwind
The monthly weekly daily grind
After many years face worn and lined
Dug so much would have thought that he mined
From Morning dawn to evening dusk
He worked as he must, in God, he trusts
He laboured the Earth, silent never cursed
It never got better, and it never got worse
He never spoke up and never spoke out
He didn't spend much, but he always had nowt
When you never wonder then you never have doubt
Learn to live with hunger inside lights out

His face was grave, made freshly shaved
Digging the Earth digging his own grave
Six feet deep wasn't necessary for a man like him
So he just dug three
His face was grave, made freshly shaved
Digging, the Earth digging his own grave
Six feet deep wasn't necessary for a man like him
So he just dug three

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