Harry made a bareback rider proud and free upon a horse And a fine coal miner for the NCB that was A fallen angel and Jesus on the cross A skating ballerina you should have seen her do the skater's waltz Some people have got to paint and draw Harry had to work in clay and stone Like the waves coming to the shore It was in his blood and in his bones Ignored by all the trendy boys in London and in Leeds He might as well have been making toys or strings of beads He could not be in the gallery And then you get an artist says he doesn't want to paint at all He takes an empty canvas and sticks it on the wall The birds of a feather all the phonies and all of the fakes While the dealers they get together And they decide who gets the breaks And who's going to be in the gallery No lies he wouldn't compromise No junk no bits of string And all the lies we subsidize That just don't mean a thing I've got to say he passed away in obscurity And now all the vultures are coming down from the tree So he's going to be in the gallery.