Harry made a bareback rider proud and free upon a horse   And a fine coalminer 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 walz      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 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 subsidise   That just don't mean a thing   I've got to say he passed away in obscurity   And now all the vultures are comming down from the tree   So he's going to be in the gallery