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I sowed a wheen of turnips
And I sowed a wheen of beans
I sowed a wheen of cabbage
There's nothing better for you than-greens.

I planted some King Edwards
With the buds straight up not down
I want the spuds to harvest here
And not grow deep under-ground.

I got my manure from Brannigan's
Like my father did before
"Take all you want" said Brannigan
As he stood there at the door.

Ah, sure every wan knows Brannigan
And his manure's a pure delight
It's as fine as rolling tobacco
And the texture is so light.

I spread the manure, with an ancient graip
It felt snug in my hand
And as I sent the manure a- flying
I muttered, "Boy's, sure this is grand".

I thought of planting lettuce
But my mother she said, "Nay!,
The lettuce is always left on your plate
Whenever I clean up the tay".

Scallions now is different
I love scallions on my bread
But scallions can lift the duvet
Later on you know, in bed.

A turnip is the nearest thing
We have to the head of man
Each turnip is slightly different
It's all part of God's great plan.

I wear an old worn gansy
Like my father worn before
And a pair of corduroy trousers
With the fork all patched and tore.

And while I'm working, I am thinking
Of how simple life can be
And how a load of manure from Brannigan's
Can grow, turnip, bean or pea.

So here I stand, where my father stood
And his grandfather before
Fingers probing the living earth
And my back is bent and sore.

I carry on the old traditions
And it makes me feel so proud
My name is Nadine Coyle from Derry
And I sing with, "Girls Aloud!".

When I get home from tour, there's nothing I like better, than going to Brannigan's with donkey and cart for some good well rotted manure. It keeps me grounded, so it does!. I should visit Uncle Sean, but he's so crabbid, so he is". It's wild hard, so it is, to get Brannigan's dung, I mean manure from under your finger nails! 



Copyright 2009 J P McMenamin