In The Gallery
Harry made a bareback rider proud and free upon a horseAnd a fine coalminer for the NCB that wasA fallen angel and Jesus on the crossA skating ballerina you should have seen her do the skater's waltz
Some people have got to paint and drawHarry had to work in clay and stoneLike the waves coming to the shoreIt was in his blood and in his bonesHe was ignored by all the trendy boys in London, yes, and in LeedsHe might as well have been making toys or strings of beadsHe couldn't be, no he couldn't be in the galleryNo no in the gallery
And then you get an artist says he doesn't want to paint at allHe takes an empty canvas and sticks it on the wallThe birds of feather all the phonies and all of the fakesWhile the dealers they get togetherAnd they decide who gets the breaksAnd who's going to be, who's going to be in the galleryIn the gallery
No lies he wouldn't compromiseNo junk no stringAnd all the lies we subsidiseThat just don't mean a thingI've got to say he passed away in obscurityAnd now all the vultures they're coming down from the treeSo he's going to be, yeah he's going to be in the galle-galle-galle-galleryIn the gallery
Harry made a bareback rider...A bareback rider...