Harry made a bareback rider proud and free upon a horse
And a fine coal miner, for the NCB that was
A fallen angel, 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

He was ignored by all the trendy boys in London, yes and in Leeds
He might as well have been making toys or strings of beads
He couldn't be
No, he couldn't be
In the gallery

And then you get an artist says he doesn't want to paint at all
Just takes an empty canvas, sticks it on a wall
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
Who's going to be
In the gallery
In the gallery

No lies, he wouldn't compromise
No junk, no string
And all the lies we subsidise
They just don't mean a thing

I've got to say he passed away in obscurity
And now all the vultures, they're coming down from the tree
He's going to be
He's going to be
In the galle-, galle-, galle-, gallery
In the gallery

Harry made a bareback rider
Made a bareback rider