We are running up clay lane
We are Indians twenty strong
There are twenty more behind us
They are cowboys tagging along
We are heading up the hill
On towards the fort
We look behind they’re far away
Don’t think that we’ll be caught
We are inside the fort now
Bows and arrows, guns and spears
These are our makeshift weapons
Excitement, hopes and fears
The cowboys are attacking now
Some are killed, count to ten then get up again
We’re allowed to die three times this way
And there’s never any pain
The fort is real with white stone walls
Ten feet high to the top
We fire arrows and shout about
We’re a right unruly lot
We are all good mates having a laugh
All about six years old
We come up here all the time
Don’t care if it’s warm or cold
Its ages before the battle is over
Everyone’s lathered in mud
We head off back down clay lane
All still mates as mates would
It’s the tin bath for us tonight we shout
As we pass the gasworks tall and grey
We can see it from our schoolyard
See it from the fort while we play
Lads and lassies is what we are
We lend we give and we borrow
We’ve all got nought but we’re as happy as ought
And we’ll be the same again tomorrow |  |
