Penni McLaren-Walker's song about the dispossessed cottiers..

Oh the cottiers and their sons, fathers, mothers, wives and daughters are walking to the shore, for there's nothing left on land

And the ones they left behind, with legs too weak to carry, are dying in their thousands for want of England's hand.

And where are the owners, whose backs we all bent?

With nothing to barter, so can't pay our rent.

Lost our living, lost our land, our faith in fellow man

Watch the ragged cottier band walk to shore...

Kitty