BREAKING THE LINE (Frank Hennesey)

I'm a farmer by nature and trade I survive by the plough and the blade,
As our Fathers before us have done each one minding the land for his Son.
All I know are these fields close to the sea,
This parcel of land that was passed down to me,
Where the past and the present entwine and we try to hold on to the line.

You're sat on a fortune they say, could sell up and move out any day,
But the businessman can't understand how my soul is tied into the land.
And those fellows in Brussels are flexing their muscles,
And the Banks say it's time to call time,
God it's almost destroying my mind, for it's I who'll be breaking the line.

Generations have toiled down the years and it easily brings me to tears,
When I think of the links with the past and consider that I'll be the last,
And I can't help but feel I've left everyone down,
Now my children will have to grow up in the town,
For I've lost what was theirs what was mine, see it's I who have broken the line.