Martha Tilston Milkmaid
am the daughter of the son of the son of a milkmaid
with my name,
She one of seventeen children on the farm.
Grandpa fought in the war, and his father in the one
before,
Three days in no-man's-land, no man ever should...
And when I look at grandpa's hands,
Pick me up and swing me round,
You and I have more than just blood in common.
Will you tell me more about your mum?
She was a milkmaid and she was a one, and
She and I have more than just a name in common.
And the cows come in and the cows go out.
Some of the lessons we learn, I could do without.
And the cows go out, and then come in.
And all that ends again must begin.
Yes, all that ends must begin.
All that ends must begin...
I am the daughter of the son of the son of a milkmaid
with my name,
She one of seventeen children on the farm.
Grandpa was an engineer, old minstrels and milkmaids
here.
Sometimes I feel too many tears.
When I look at grandpa's hands,
Pull the beans out from the land,
You and I have more than just blood in common.
Will you tell me more about your mum?
She was a milkmaid and she was a one,
She and I have more than just a name in common.
And the cows come in and the cows go out.
Some of the lessons I've learned, I could do without.
And the cows go out and then come in.
And all that ends must begin.
All that ends must begin.
All that ends will begin, will begin...
All that ends must begin.
All that ends must begin.
And all that ends must begin. Mm-mm.
