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%% King Cotton
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X:18
T:King Cotton
R:Folk Song
M:2/4
C:Mike Harding
O:England
A:Lancashire
L:1/8
B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire
N:Mike Harding
K:Dm
d d2 d|d2 A=B|c =B2 G|A D3|-D4|
z ddd|d2 A=B|c d2 A|-A4|-A4|
z GGG|G2 G2|A3 D/2D/2|C D3|-D4|
D2 AA|G G2 A|CD E2|D4|-D4|



King Cotton

See how the lint flies out over the moorland,         
See how the smoke to the valley clings,
See how the slate roofs shine in the drizzle,
This is the valley where Cotton is King.

See how houses cling to the hillside,
Hear how the streets of children sing,
Wake to the scream of the factory hooter,
This is the valley where Cotton is King.

See how hunger has eaten the faces,
Tired flesh to the bones just clings,
There's dust in the lungs and the bodies are twisted,
This is the valley where Cotton is King.

Sleep is washed from the broken faces,
Morning clogs on the cobbles ring,
Off to the mill, the weavers hurry,
This is the valley where Cotton is King.

Work all day to the looms' hard rhythm,
Scrabble and toil till your tired bones sing,
Then you crawl back home as the gaslights flicker,
This is the valley where Cotton is King.

This is the land where children labour,
Where Life and Death mean the self same thing,
Where the many must work that the few might prosper,
This is the valley where Cotton is King.