Denis Lehane: Lighten up - The Beatles' new single and my part in its discovery

My Beatles connection all started many years ago when in search of a car to pull a cow box, I bought one once owned by John Lennon himself

The Beatles, from left, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Ringo Starr and George Harrison:  Their new song will be a hit song too, for the hit parade today is filled with yahoos who wouldn't know a good tune if you hit them over the head with it.

As you well know by now, tis rarely I'm involved in a success story.

My life on the land, up to this point, has been one of outright misery and hardship.

But I'm not complaining. Sure, that's what I signed up for when I became a farmer.

Farming is like the Foreign Legion. It's a career not for the faint-hearted.

Anyhow, against all the odds I have persevered. And so here I am today, still wearing my worn-out out boots, but for once the centre of attention. The master of ceremonies.

The man who, in my own small way, helped ensure The Beatles have come back from the dead with a mighty new song.

To my mind at least, I am responsible for the whole thing.

And The Beatles new song will be a hit song too, for the hit parade today is filled with yahoos who wouldn't know a good tune if you hit them over the head with it.

The music being hoisted upon us nowadays is like a bucket of whitewash, in comparison to the masterpieces that were painted for us long ago.

Anyhow, my Beatles connection all started many years ago when in search of a car to pull a cow box, I came across this big bullock of a thing that I was told would pull the devil himself.

"Tis a white beauty," the car salesman bragged "and would you believe it, was once by John Lennon himself!?"

The car salesman was full of baloney.

But I didn't care. For even if it was once owned by Pavarotti, so long as it was able to pull a cow or two home from Skibbereen, it would do me fine.

And in fairness to that old car, for many years after that day it served me very well.

Geared nice and low there was no lane she wouldn't attempt, no matter how rocky. Box or no cattle box.

And better again, the cassette player in the car contained songs sung, I now believe, by John Lennon himself.

Beautiful songs, haunting songs. Songs that kept me going as I hauled cattle from fairs far and wide to farmers' yards narrow and overgrown.

Alas, eventually the back axle gave way and I was forced to park the car permanently behind the house.

And for the next 25 years there she remained, providing shelter and comfort for cats, mice and various other creatures that inhabit the farm.

Then about 12 months ago, a passing scrapman spotted the car nestled behind the house and wondered if I would be interested at all in selling it.

"My dear man," says I "everything on this farm, including the farm itself, could be purchased if the price was right."

A deal was struck quickly, for John Lennon's old car wasn't worth much. But I did inform the scrap merchant that there was a cassette on board that might be worth something to the right person in the music business.

"Well," says he, "as luck would have it my brother is a big record producer in the UK, I'll see what he makes of it."

"Good man." says I.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Of course, people might now say that I was a terrible fool not to hold onto the cassette, for a fright of money could have been made.

Well, the way I look at it. I purchased the car to haul cattle and it did just that. The music was an added bonus.

And besides, I have never cared too much for money.

For I have discovered that down through the years in farming, while money may get you places, in reality, over the long run, it can't buy you love.