john's reflection on his boyhood...

little did i think when the judge first spoke

those awful words to me

that i would feel again the cold winds blow

and a heart would beat in 'babbacombe' lee

i was born to lead a life of sorrow

growing tired and weary of the morrow

tortured by my terrible name

when i was fifteen

my father called to me

saying now you are a man and all men work