All the young fellows have gone to the factories,
To learn a new trade making iron and steel,
When they pickup their wages they wonder how ever,
They managed on the money they made in the field.

Chorus
And it's all the young fellows have gone to the city,
All the young fellows have gone to the town,
Where they'll be earning nearly double the money,
They ever earned at the harrow and plough.

Down in the valley the sound of a tractor,
Young Jimmy Dickinson sat at the wheel,
But this time next week he'll be in some hot foundry,
Pasting the iron or rolling the steel.

Well down in the hedgerow Billy ……. is working,
Laid off his sickle glints in the bright sun,
But in less than an hour he'll pack up his gear,
His last day of working the land will be done.

Well you can't blame young hands throwing the towel in,
They'll be much better of making iron and steel,
But the drift from the land it will always continue,
Till the money gets better for the man in the field.