| Song | Hard Road |
| Artist | Seth Lakeman |
| Album | Tales From The Barrel House |
| Round about these sordid streets | |
| Grimy faces and dusty feet | |
| Racked and soiled, the faded air | |
| Another dose for those who dare | |
| The aching sounds of machines asleep | |
| Daylight hours they quietly creep | |
| Steel and iron, spit and choke | |
| Ignite the dreams that you once spoke | |
| Chorus: | |
| It’s a hard road on your own | |
| A hard road and you can’t let go | |
| A hard road on your own | |
| A hard road and you can’t let go | |
| A whistle howls behind tall gates | |
| Shattered glass as the morning breaks | |
| All around you shadows crawl | |
| Clocks and keys divide us all | |
| Spark and spew, the metal flies | |
| The embers rain and flood our pride | |
| Tip the furnace, cast the mould | |
| The end will lie when the money folds | |
| Chorus: | |
| Our clothes are stained with dust and dirt | |
| As we leave this faded factory church | |
| Through bitter winds and keep-out signs | |
| Pass the gates we walk the line | |
| When you’re old in fields of waste | |
| With leather hands and wrinkled face | |
| The riches found in twilight rain | |
| Will soak the sweat of labour’s pain | |
| Chorus: |
| Round about these sordid streets | |
| Grimy faces and dusty feet | |
| Racked and soiled, the faded air | |
| Another dose for those who dare | |
| The aching sounds of machines asleep | |
| Daylight hours they quietly creep | |
| Steel and iron, spit and choke | |
| Ignite the dreams that you once spoke | |
| Chorus: | |
| It' s a hard road on your own | |
| A hard road and you can' t let go | |
| A hard road on your own | |
| A hard road and you can' t let go | |
| A whistle howls behind tall gates | |
| Shattered glass as the morning breaks | |
| All around you shadows crawl | |
| Clocks and keys divide us all | |
| Spark and spew, the metal flies | |
| The embers rain and flood our pride | |
| Tip the furnace, cast the mould | |
| The end will lie when the money folds | |
| Chorus: | |
| Our clothes are stained with dust and dirt | |
| As we leave this faded factory church | |
| Through bitter winds and keepout signs | |
| Pass the gates we walk the line | |
| When you' re old in fields of waste | |
| With leather hands and wrinkled face | |
| The riches found in twilight rain | |
| Will soak the sweat of labour' s pain | |
| Chorus: |