Hello everyone! I’m back again after a month away, in case anyone noticed. I’ve been digging big holes in Suffolk again and getting muddy, sun burnt and possible alcohol poisoning... in other words I’ve been spending 4 very happy weeks doing archaeology! To while away the tedium of digging a certain trench which we were promised would have a whole treasure trove of goodies in but turned out to have only lots and lots of natural flint and chalk in (grrr....), this little song was created which those of you who have ever dug or who know diggers may be able to relate to. It’s a version of another song called the re-enactors song which I can not take the credit for but which is also very amusing and I may post that up sometime soon too.

THE ARCHAEOLOGIST SONG

CHO. Oh, I am an archaeologist and I have a certain class.
I dig and drink and swear a lot and talk out of my arse.
In 1999, you will not be finding me,
'Coz I’m far too busy digging up another century.

1. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my drink.
About anything but real ale I would not even think,
With the obvious exception of whisky rum and gin,
And cider, wine or brandy if the landlord has them in.

2. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my tent.
The outers ripped the inners lost and all the pegs are bent.
It leaks a bit but there’s room inside for two or even three,
But I smell so much the only one who'll stay in there is me.

3. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my home.
Every surface there is covered by the artifacts I own.
A bottle bank fills the front room but you’ll find we're vermin free.
The rats all left 'coz my five flat mates all smell as bad as me.

4. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my friends.
They all have proper jobs and cars and think I’m round the bend.
They phone me up to moan about the jobs they have to do.
But I’ll still be broke and digging when they retire at thirty-two.

5. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my skin.
It’s leathery and callused where the blisters all have been.
It’s bronzed and burnt and haggard by the wind and sun and rain,
But I’ve stubbed off all my nerve endings so no longer feel pain.

6. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my man.
I change him round from dig to dig or as often as I can.
But I’m looking for a millionaire or billionaire, it’s true,
Who will keep me in a state I’d like to become accustomed to.

7. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my car.
It goes all right from camp to site but mostly to the bar.
It’s a clapped-out hired minibus with plenty of room inside
For all my tools, the volunteers, and the kitchen sink besides.

8. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my physique.
If you listen very carefully, you may just hear me creak.
My knees have gone. My back is bent. I’m every doctor’s hell,
And the day I can’t lift up my pint, my heart will stop as well.

9. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my eyes.
They’re always frowning at the ground or squinting at the skies.
I can spot a rain cloud two days off or features from afar,
But I’m best of all at spotting out a public house or bar.

10. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my trowel.
It’s as blunt as me, an inch in width, and the handle’s really foul.
I put it in my back pocket, so break it regularly,
But I’ll never get a new one 'coz it’s as old and knackered as me.

11. Oh, I am an archaeologist. You can tell it by my hair.
It hasn’t been brushed for many a month or washed for many a year.
It’s a fox’s den, a cuckoo’s nest, a badger’s set, you see.
Is it really any wonder no one else will employ me?

Love ivy b.^^

Capitalization and punctuation added, spelling corrected. --JoeClone, 27-Feb-02.