Текст песни
First thing — you measure twice
You lay the line where the wall should stand
Nobody drew this floor plan for you
so you hold the pencil in your own hand
The room won't fit the space they gave you
That is fine — the space was wrong
Mark the studs at sixteen centres
count the nails, and carry on
Every beam you raise by hand
is one they cannot take apart
Built, not given, built, not given
the house you raise yourself
has got your name inside the grain
No key they hold can lock you out
of what your own two hands have made
Built, not given
Second thing — the blade goes straight
You follow what you measured, not your fear
The wood will tell you where it wants to split
if you press your ear against the grain and hear
Sawdust on your knees, your arms
The plank falls clean — both halves are yours
Nobody shaped this timber for you
nobody owes you ready-cut floors
Every cut you make by hand
is one that fits because you're sure
Built, not given, built, not given
the house you raise yourself
has got your name inside the grain
No key they hold can lock you out
of what your own two hands have made
Built, not given
Third thing — you join what you have cut
The frame stands up because each piece
was measured first and cut with care
and fitted where you chose, not where they pleased
Step inside. The room is small
The walls still smell of fresh-cut pine
But the door is yours, the lock is yours
the threshold sits exactly on your line
They will tell you that it leans
They will say it's not to code
Let them talk — the roof holds rain
the floor holds you. You built this on your own
Built, not given, built, not given
the house you raise yourself
has got your name inside the grain
No key they hold can lock you out
of what your own two hands have made
Built, not given
