Oh this is an old story that's rarely ever told
The raping of the country, of the valley
The men who came to reap with a musket and a bible
They wanted to take the valley
The valley! the valley!
They wanted to take the valley
And oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
And so far a pittance all the people worked the land
All the men and the women and the children
And on sundays it was down to the chapel in the town
The preacher said give generously!
Give generously! give generously!
The people they gave generously
And oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
The union met in secret on the dark side of the hill
By the light of a thousand candles
Their pay had been cut, all the people come on out
And by scores they were joining Rebecca
Rebecca! Rebecca!
The people were joining Rebecca
And oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
Riot!
Ironmaster, call the army
Call the hungry from the irish sea
Ironmaster, call the parliament
It's no sin to fight to be free!
From the smokey stacks of merthyr
To the hills of Ebbw vale
From Swansea docks to Merseyside and Liverpool
With the union leaders crushed
And the union quickly smashed
They blackend the face of the country
The country! the country!
They blackend the face of the country
And oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
Now on a hill in Brecon is Crawshay's ruined house
And it blackens out the green of the valley
And on the battered grave is the epitaph they gave
It stands there, god forgive him!
Forgive him! forgive him!
And all who rot in hell with him
And oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
Riot!
Ironmaster, call the army
Call the hungry from the irish sea
Ironmaster, call the parliament
It's no sin to fight to be free!
And oh the ironmasters, they always get their way
And oh the ironmasters, they still get their way!
Writer(s): Paul Simmonds (t), Phil Odgers (t), Jon Odgers (t), Henry Cush (t), Shanne Hasler
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