The Radio in the Potting Shed

Lyrics

There's a radio in the potting shed with a bent-up wire for an aerial
It only gets one station and the weather's always clear
I turn the dial a little and the static starts to purr
And a song comes through the flowerpots like it's been waiting here

I sit among the seed trays with my tea gone slightly cold
Dirt beneath my fingernails and a hole in my left sock
The crooner sings of someone who is dancing in the rain
And I sway a little, sway a little, on my upturned crate

Turn it up, turn it up, to the trowels and the twine
Nobody's listening but the spiders and the vine
Turn it up, turn it up, let the little room be wide
I'm dancing in the potting shed with the whole world outside

The signal fades in sections when the clouds roll over slow
Then crackles back with trumpets and a brush upon the drum
I hum along to choruses I only half-remember
And I make up all the verses, and they fit me just as well

Turn it up, turn it up, to the trowels and the twine
Nobody's listening but the spiders and the vine
Turn it up, turn it up, let the little room be wide
I'm dancing in the potting shed with the whole world outside

Maybe all I need is a window and a tune
A packet of sweet peas and an unhurried afternoon
Maybe all I need is a corner of my own
Where the music finds me, where the music finds me home

Turn it up, turn it up, to the trowels and the twine
Nobody's listening but the spiders and the vine
Turn it up, turn it up, let the little room be wide
I'm dancing in the potting shed with the whole world outside

La la, in the potting shed
La la, with the whole world outside