The Archaeologist Song
(Mary Leighton)
ch. Oh I am an archaeologist and I have a certain class
I dig and drink and swear a lot and talk out of my arse
In 1999 you will not be finding me 'coz
I'm far to busy digging up another century
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my drink
About anything but real ale I would not even think
With the obvious exception of whisky rum and gin
And cider wine or brandy if the landlord has them in
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my tent
The outers ripped the inners lost and all the pegs are bent
It leaks a bit but there's room inside for two or even three
But I smell so much the only one who'll stay in there is me
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my home
Every surface there is covered by the artifacts I own
A bottle bank fills the front room but you'll find we're vermin free
The rats all left 'coz my five flat mates all smell as bad as me
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my friends
They all have proper jobs and cars and think I'm round the bend
They phone me up to moan about the jobs they have to do
But I'll still be broke and digging when they retire at thirty-two
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my skin
It's leathery and callused where the blisters all have been
It's bronzed and burnt and haggered by the wind and sun and rain
But I've stubbed off all my nerve endings so no longer feel pain
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my man
I change him round from dig to dig or as often as I can
But I'm looking for a millionaire or billionaire its true who
Will keep me in a state id like to become accustomed to
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my car
It goes alright from camp to site but mostly to the bar
It's a clapped out hired minibus with plenty of room inside
For all my tools, the volunteers, and the kitchen sink besides
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my physique
If you listen very carefully you may just hear me creak
My knees have gone, my back is bent, I'm every doctor's hell
And the day I can't lift up my pint my heart will stop as well
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my eyes
They're always frowning at the ground or squinting at the skies
I can spot a rain cloud two days off or features from afar
But I'm best of all at spotting out a public house or bar
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my trowel
It's as blunt as me, an inch in width and the handles really foul
I put it in my back pocket so I break it regularly
But I'll never get a new one 'coz its as old and knackered as me
Oh I am an archaeologist you can tell it by my hair
It hasn't been brushed for many a month or washed for many a year
It's a foxes den a cuckoos nest a badgers set you see
Is it really any wonder no one else will employ me?
ML
oct99
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!