CD 1
- First Post
- Animelée
- Tiger Toon
- Look At The Animals
- Law Of The Bungle
- Law Of The Bungle Part II
- Left Right
- Solitaire
- Critique Oblique
- Post Last
- Scenario
- Audition
- No Rehearsal
CD 2
- Paradise Steakhouse
- Sealion II
- Piece Of Cake
- Quartet
- Silver River Turning
- Crew Nights
- The Curse
- Rosa On The Factory Floor
- A Small Cigar
- Man Of Principle
- Commons Brawl
- No Step
- Drive On The Young Side Of Life
- I Don't Want To Be Me
- Broadford Bazaar
- Lights Out
- Truck Stop Runner
- Hard Liner
FIRST POST
(Instrumental)
ANIMELÉE
ANIMELÉE
(Instrumental)
TIGER TOON
TIGER TOON
(Instrumental)
LOOK AT THE ANIMALS
The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand,
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can,
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.
He runs into a sparrow who hasn't eaten for a week,
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak,
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak
Our cat partakes of dinner when a sudden kangaroo
Emerges from the undergrowth and asks to use the loo.
Kangaroos aren't usually dangerous, for that would never do.
My goodness, will you look at all the animals queuing on the stairs!
Look at the animals in the zoo; how would you like to be one?
They're waiting to use the lavatory and putting chewing gum in each other's hair.
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to free one?
Good gracious, will you look at all the animals playing with their tools!
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to queer one?
Flying from the chandeliers and treading in their elephantine stools.
Look at the animals, two by two; aren't you glad to be one?
This kangaroo's a lunatic and his pouch is very full
Of pussy cats and penguins who can't fly as a rule,
But then neither could the pussy cat: he never went to school.
The kangaroo gets nervous when confronted by the size
Of an elephant named Simon who is always telling lies;
He swears he wears green corduroys and can button up his fly.
Presently, a fatter Simon's indigestion fails.
He regurgitates the whole damn mess into an aluminum pail,
And the tiny ant scuttles back inside his watering can
LOOK AT THE ANIMALS
The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand,
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can,
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.
He runs into a sparrow who hasn't eaten for a week,
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak,
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak
Our cat partakes of dinner when a sudden kangaroo
Emerges from the undergrowth and asks to use the loo.
Kangaroos aren't usually dangerous, for that would never do.
My goodness, will you look at all the animals queuing on the stairs!
Look at the animals in the zoo; how would you like to be one?
They're waiting to use the lavatory and putting chewing gum in each other's hair.
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to free one?
Good gracious, will you look at all the animals playing with their tools!
Look at the animals, look at you; well how would you like to queer one?
Flying from the chandeliers and treading in their elephantine stools.
Look at the animals, two by two; aren't you glad to be one?
This kangaroo's a lunatic and his pouch is very full
Of pussy cats and penguins who can't fly as a rule,
But then neither could the pussy cat: he never went to school.
The kangaroo gets nervous when confronted by the size
Of an elephant named Simon who is always telling lies;
He swears he wears green corduroys and can button up his fly.
Presently, a fatter Simon's indigestion fails.
He regurgitates the whole damn mess into an aluminum pail,
And the tiny ant scuttles back inside his watering can
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.
LAW OF THE BUNGLE
The tiger flashes sharpened teeth.
Bowler-hatted; summer briefs beneath his pinstriped skin.
To kill demands a business sense;
Economy moves non-residence approaching from down-wind.
Being a tiger means you laugh
Whenever lesser tigers have to eat meat that's infected.
Being a tiger means your mate
When overfed will defecate in places least expected.
Knowing a tiger means you must
Accept his promise of mutual trust
And offer him your throat.
Loving a tiger means you take second place to the cake you take
(Spoken:) And with undying servile obedience keep the stiffly starched collar of his conference shirt spotless and remove daily the daubed bloody evidence of his dastardly misdeeds from the otherwise immaculate elegance of his pinstripe tiger coat.
Period.
LAW OF THE BUNGLE – PART II
(Spoken:)
"Hello. This is 'Law of the Bungle Part II'. By the way, I'm Martin Barre; but sometimes I'm an owl, and my feathers are really smooth, and when I feel romantic I like to dress up in men's clothing.''
LEFT RIGHT
The master playwright
urges you to play right/play wrong;
life is long and every night's the first night.
The wardrobe mistress
urges you to dress left/dress right;
what a mess, well, your underpants are too tight.
Who's on the stage door
to help you find the way in/way out?
It's not a sin to be knowing that you don't know.
When you breathe your last line
will you make your exit stage left/stage right?
Well, you might decide while there's still time.
You have an angel on your shoulder
but you wear the old god's horns.
And you dance around the maypole
while the vicar makes a toast
to the pagan celebration
and extends an invitation to us all
so he can save us when we fall.
Who's your leading lady?
Will you help to get her off the bus? It's best
to pass the test before you get too lazy.
Strike up the orchestra.
Take your cues on the up-beat/Beat down
LAW OF THE BUNGLE
The tiger flashes sharpened teeth.
Bowler-hatted; summer briefs beneath his pinstriped skin.
To kill demands a business sense;
Economy moves non-residence approaching from down-wind.
Being a tiger means you laugh
Whenever lesser tigers have to eat meat that's infected.
Being a tiger means your mate
When overfed will defecate in places least expected.
Knowing a tiger means you must
Accept his promise of mutual trust
And offer him your throat.
Loving a tiger means you take second place to the cake you take
(Spoken:) And with undying servile obedience keep the stiffly starched collar of his conference shirt spotless and remove daily the daubed bloody evidence of his dastardly misdeeds from the otherwise immaculate elegance of his pinstripe tiger coat.
Period.
LAW OF THE BUNGLE – PART II
(Spoken:)
"Hello. This is 'Law of the Bungle Part II'. By the way, I'm Martin Barre; but sometimes I'm an owl, and my feathers are really smooth, and when I feel romantic I like to dress up in men's clothing.''
LEFT RIGHT
The master playwright
urges you to play right/play wrong;
life is long and every night's the first night.
The wardrobe mistress
urges you to dress left/dress right;
what a mess, well, your underpants are too tight.
Who's on the stage door
to help you find the way in/way out?
It's not a sin to be knowing that you don't know.
When you breathe your last line
will you make your exit stage left/stage right?
Well, you might decide while there's still time.
You have an angel on your shoulder
but you wear the old god's horns.
And you dance around the maypole
while the vicar makes a toast
to the pagan celebration
and extends an invitation to us all
so he can save us when we fall.
Who's your leading lady?
Will you help to get her off the bus? It's best
to pass the test before you get too lazy.
Strike up the orchestra.
Take your cues on the up-beat/Beat down
Anyone who says he doesn't like the sound.
SOLITAIRE
Brain-storming, habit-forming,
battle-warning weary winsome actor spewing
spineless chilling lines
The critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
And really not an awful lot of fun.
Well who the hell can he be when he's never had V.D.,
And he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?
Court-jesting, never-resting
he must be very cunning
To assume an air of dignity
And bless us all
With his oratory prowess,
His lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air.
And every night his act's the same
And so it must be all a game of chess he's playing
But you're wrong, Steve. You see, it's only solitaire.
CRITIQUE OBLIQUE
Critic of the black and white it's your first night.
The Passion Play gets in the way - spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid,
Why the old dogs howl with sadness.
(Spoken:)
The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on the memory
of last summer's trip to Europe.
Did you buy a passport from the queen?
(Spoken:)
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulder
of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography
revision.
SOLITAIRE
Brain-storming, habit-forming,
battle-warning weary winsome actor spewing
spineless chilling lines
The critics falling over to tell themselves he's boring
And really not an awful lot of fun.
Well who the hell can he be when he's never had V.D.,
And he doesn't even sit on toilet seats?
Court-jesting, never-resting
he must be very cunning
To assume an air of dignity
And bless us all
With his oratory prowess,
His lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air.
And every night his act's the same
And so it must be all a game of chess he's playing
But you're wrong, Steve. You see, it's only solitaire.
CRITIQUE OBLIQUE
Critic of the black and white it's your first night.
The Passion Play gets in the way - spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid,
Why the old dogs howl with sadness.
(Spoken:)
The blue thing in the ball leaves naught but a bloody footprint on the memory
of last summer's trip to Europe.
Did you buy a passport from the queen?
(Spoken:)
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulder
of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography
revision.
The examining body examined her body
POST LAST
The editor lies screaming (begging in his working drink),
Questioning “Who is God's favorite rock star this week?''
POST LAST
The editor lies screaming (begging in his working drink),
Questioning “Who is God's favorite rock star this week?''
And will the front page pay [take?] him?
SCENARIO
In long years of ancient time, stood alone a friend of mine.
Reflected by the ever-burning sigh of a god who happened by.
And in the dawn, there came the song
Of some sweet lady singing in his ear.
Your god has gone, and from now on,
You'll have to learn to hate the things you fear.
We want to know, are we inside the womb?
Of passion plays, in thy righteousness consumed?
Or just in lush contentment of our souls?
And so began the age of man,
And they left his body in the sand.
Their glasses raised to a god on high,
Who smiled upon them from the sky.
So take the stage.
Spin down the ages.
Loose the passion.
Spill the rage upon your son
Who holds the gun up to your head.
The play's begun.
Then God, the director, smells a rat.
Pulls another rabbit from His hat.
Sniffs the air and He says “Well, that's thatI'm going.''
AUDITION
The actors milling helplessly
The script is blowing out to sea.
But what the hell, we didn't even pass an audition.
The lines you'll have to improvise.
The words are written in the eyes
Of politicians who despise their fathers.
And so the play necessitates
That all you boys participate
In fierce competition to eliminate each other.
And groupies, on their way to war,
Get to write the next film score,
But the rock and roll star knows his glory is really nothing.
Men of religion, on the make,
Pledge an oath they undertake
To make you wise for God's own sake, and none other.
While ladies get their bedding done
To win themselves a bouncing son--
But bad girls do it for the fun of just being.
And me, I'm here to sing along,
And I'm not concerned with righting wrongs,
Just asking questions that belong without an answer.
But God is laughing up his sleeve
As He pours himself another cup of tea,
SCENARIO
In long years of ancient time, stood alone a friend of mine.
Reflected by the ever-burning sigh of a god who happened by.
And in the dawn, there came the song
Of some sweet lady singing in his ear.
Your god has gone, and from now on,
You'll have to learn to hate the things you fear.
We want to know, are we inside the womb?
Of passion plays, in thy righteousness consumed?
Or just in lush contentment of our souls?
And so began the age of man,
And they left his body in the sand.
Their glasses raised to a god on high,
Who smiled upon them from the sky.
So take the stage.
Spin down the ages.
Loose the passion.
Spill the rage upon your son
Who holds the gun up to your head.
The play's begun.
Then God, the director, smells a rat.
Pulls another rabbit from His hat.
Sniffs the air and He says “Well, that's thatI'm going.''
AUDITION
The actors milling helplessly
The script is blowing out to sea.
But what the hell, we didn't even pass an audition.
The lines you'll have to improvise.
The words are written in the eyes
Of politicians who despise their fathers.
And so the play necessitates
That all you boys participate
In fierce competition to eliminate each other.
And groupies, on their way to war,
Get to write the next film score,
But the rock and roll star knows his glory is really nothing.
Men of religion, on the make,
Pledge an oath they undertake
To make you wise for God's own sake, and none other.
While ladies get their bedding done
To win themselves a bouncing son--
But bad girls do it for the fun of just being.
And me, I'm here to sing along,
And I'm not concerned with righting wrongs,
Just asking questions that belong without an answer.
But God is laughing up his sleeve
As He pours himself another cup of tea,
And He waves good-bye to you and me, at least for now.
NO REHEARSAL
NO REHEARSAL
Did you learn your lines today? Well, there is no rehearsal.
The tickets have all been sold for tomorrow's matinee.
There's a telegram from the writer, but there is no rehearsal.
The electrician has been told to make the spotlights brighter.
There's one seat in the circle, five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there, but the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.
(Spoken:)
There's one seat in the circle, five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there, but the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.
Did you learn your lines today? Well there is no rehearsal.
The interval will last until the ice-cream lady melts away.
The twelve piece orchestra are here, but there is no rehearsal.
The first violinist's hands are chilled he's gone deaf in both ears.
Well, the scenery is colourful, but the paint is so damn thin.
You see the wall behind is crumbling, and the stage door is bricked-in.
But the audience keep arriving`till they're standing in the wings.
The tickets have all been sold for tomorrow's matinee.
There's a telegram from the writer, but there is no rehearsal.
The electrician has been told to make the spotlights brighter.
There's one seat in the circle, five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there, but the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.
(Spoken:)
There's one seat in the circle, five hundred million in the stalls.
Simply everyone will be there, but the safety curtain falls
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.
When the bomb that's in the dressing room
blows the windows from their frames.
And the prompter in his corner is sorry that he came.
Did you learn your lines today? Well there is no rehearsal.
The interval will last until the ice-cream lady melts away.
The twelve piece orchestra are here, but there is no rehearsal.
The first violinist's hands are chilled he's gone deaf in both ears.
Well, the scenery is colourful, but the paint is so damn thin.
You see the wall behind is crumbling, and the stage door is bricked-in.
But the audience keep arriving`till they're standing in the wings.
And we take the final curtain call, and the ceiling crashes in
PARADISE STEAKHOUSE
I'd like to take you
to the edge of every morning
On a magic eiderdown
To a window chair
In the Paradise Steakhouse
Where there's a cup of silver coffee
Steaming chrome reflections
From the mist in your hair
Try not to watch me
Just call me after darkfall
I'll bring a whip to sow
My seed on your land
In the Paradise Steakhouse
There's a cup of silver coffee
A sheath of steel so you may hold
My sword in your hand
I'll cut you, divide you
Into tender pieces
No wings to fly away
Upon my dear
In the Paradise Steakhouse
On a plate upon a table
I will carve your name with care
To last the years
I'd like to eat you
All fire will consume you
Roast on the spit of love
On this arrow true
In the Paradise Steakhouse
I'll taste every finger
Baking [picking?] in the ashes
PARADISE STEAKHOUSE
I'd like to take you
to the edge of every morning
On a magic eiderdown
To a window chair
In the Paradise Steakhouse
Where there's a cup of silver coffee
Steaming chrome reflections
From the mist in your hair
Try not to watch me
Just call me after darkfall
I'll bring a whip to sow
My seed on your land
In the Paradise Steakhouse
There's a cup of silver coffee
A sheath of steel so you may hold
My sword in your hand
I'll cut you, divide you
Into tender pieces
No wings to fly away
Upon my dear
In the Paradise Steakhouse
On a plate upon a table
I will carve your name with care
To last the years
I'd like to eat you
All fire will consume you
Roast on the spit of love
On this arrow true
In the Paradise Steakhouse
I'll taste every finger
Baking [picking?] in the ashes
Till the flames rise anew
SEALION II
Would you like to see my lion
My friend Cecil is damp and smooth
A damp smooth sea lion
Yes, Cecil is a sealion
(Cecil is a sealion)
Cecil is a clever sealion
Cecil sometimes swims
And often sits
(And balances multicolored striped balls?)
Yes, balances multicolored striped balls
Clever Cecil
(Cecil is a sealion)
Cecil the sealion is serene
He doesn't wear spectacles or a scarf
(No central heating or cement)
Well, the whole ocean is Cecil’s home
(Cecil is a sealion)
PIECE OF CAKE
Come running. Go for overkill.
If you don't come now, I'll be over the hill, all right?
Tell me, “All right.''
Got a sell-by date.
Soon be out of stock.
Pop me in your trolley you can start my clock.
Well, all right?
Tell me, “All right.''
I could be on your shelf, could be the risk you take.
I'm a cup of hot coffee, I'm a piece of cake.
I'm the hot chicken in your superstore.
You can take me home if you can take some more,
Well, all right?
Tell me, `”All right.''
I could be on your shelf, could be the bread you bake.
I can fill your larder, I'm a piece of cake.
Show me rosemary, I'll show her wild thyme.
See you at the checkout or on the credit line.
Well, all right?
Tell me, “All right.''
I'm your spicy filling, I'm your low-fat spread.
I'll be your smooth rubber, be your pencil lead, All right?
Tell me, “All right.''
If you set me to simmer,
if you grill my steak you can bowl me over,
SEALION II
Would you like to see my lion
My friend Cecil is damp and smooth
A damp smooth sea lion
Yes, Cecil is a sealion
(Cecil is a sealion)
Cecil is a clever sealion
Cecil sometimes swims
And often sits
(And balances multicolored striped balls?)
Yes, balances multicolored striped balls
Clever Cecil
(Cecil is a sealion)
Cecil the sealion is serene
He doesn't wear spectacles or a scarf
(No central heating or cement)
Well, the whole ocean is Cecil’s home
(Cecil is a sealion)
PIECE OF CAKE
Come running. Go for overkill.
If you don't come now, I'll be over the hill, all right?
Tell me, “All right.''
Got a sell-by date.
Soon be out of stock.
Pop me in your trolley you can start my clock.
Well, all right?
Tell me, “All right.''
I could be on your shelf, could be the risk you take.
I'm a cup of hot coffee, I'm a piece of cake.
I'm the hot chicken in your superstore.
You can take me home if you can take some more,
Well, all right?
Tell me, `”All right.''
I could be on your shelf, could be the bread you bake.
I can fill your larder, I'm a piece of cake.
Show me rosemary, I'll show her wild thyme.
See you at the checkout or on the credit line.
Well, all right?
Tell me, “All right.''
I'm your spicy filling, I'm your low-fat spread.
I'll be your smooth rubber, be your pencil lead, All right?
Tell me, “All right.''
If you set me to simmer,
if you grill my steak you can bowl me over,
I'm a piece of cake.
QUARTET
QUARTET
(Instrumental)
SILVER RIVER TURNING
I walked down that boulder road,
Through a child's eye saw places where I used to go.
Where I crawled barefoot with a fishing pole
to the rock that overlooked that steelhead hole
but it's true, silver river turning blue.
It was a small town in a smaller world.
Just a black dot on an old map with its edges curled.
Where they built their industries on the edge of town
Leaching chemicals from underground
now it's true that silver river turning blue.
Just got a late reaction.
Face reality and stare it down.
Sometimes it's harder hanging on.
Much easier to look around.
But I need that job.
Well, this place no city: we're just small players here.
Like a million other heroes drinking poor man's beer.
We know what's right. We're just living it wrong.
But there's no easy answer in the green man's song.
SILVER RIVER TURNING
I walked down that boulder road,
Through a child's eye saw places where I used to go.
Where I crawled barefoot with a fishing pole
to the rock that overlooked that steelhead hole
but it's true, silver river turning blue.
It was a small town in a smaller world.
Just a black dot on an old map with its edges curled.
Where they built their industries on the edge of town
Leaching chemicals from underground
now it's true that silver river turning blue.
Just got a late reaction.
Face reality and stare it down.
Sometimes it's harder hanging on.
Much easier to look around.
But I need that job.
Well, this place no city: we're just small players here.
Like a million other heroes drinking poor man's beer.
We know what's right. We're just living it wrong.
But there's no easy answer in the green man's song.
What do you do? When your river's turning Blue.
CREW NIGHTS
Tearing down in double quick time to get the "A" truck shifted 'bout midnight.
The locker rooms are empty but the strobo tuners still spin with their pitching lights
And someone with a yellow pass gives out precise directions as to where and when.
And earmarked with a drumstick, young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again.
Tomorrow is an off-day, be in Baltimore by Thursday is the only law.
There's a suite down at the hotel reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting man's already improvised a bar and printed invitations to the ball.
Off-duty cops line corridors wearing tour T-shirts proudly and the band may even call.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
Feeling that it might be wrong to temporarily belong to the P.A. man.
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being undressed with no suntan.
His polaroid a-snapping, the head carpenter is rapping on the gates of dawn.
Sitting lonely with a warm beer the girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.
Crew nights, no bar fights or ‘Reader’s Wives’
Thin walls and late calls and nine lives.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
CREW NIGHTS
Tearing down in double quick time to get the "A" truck shifted 'bout midnight.
The locker rooms are empty but the strobo tuners still spin with their pitching lights
And someone with a yellow pass gives out precise directions as to where and when.
And earmarked with a drumstick, young girls set to rendezvous, and be recognized again.
Tomorrow is an off-day, be in Baltimore by Thursday is the only law.
There's a suite down at the hotel reserved for making merry with connecting doors.
The lighting man's already improvised a bar and printed invitations to the ball.
Off-duty cops line corridors wearing tour T-shirts proudly and the band may even call.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
Feeling that it might be wrong to temporarily belong to the P.A. man.
Some angel from the midwest is regretting being undressed with no suntan.
His polaroid a-snapping, the head carpenter is rapping on the gates of dawn.
Sitting lonely with a warm beer the girl with dental braces wishes that she hadn't gone.
Crew nights, no bar fights or ‘Reader’s Wives’
Thin walls and late calls and nine lives.
Crew nights, no flashlights or folding knives,
Best boots and road suits and nine lives.
THE CURSE
Young Gladys was a silky maiden
At thirteen, she was going strong, yeah.
Oh, Gladys.
Nicely filled out, fully laden,
But down below there was something wrong, yeah.
Oh, Gladys.
Nobody told her about the secrets
That ladies have to hide
Mom had no words to describe the things
That happened inside.
Need someone to help me,
I feel that there's a curse on me, oh.
Went down into the local disco,
For what used to be the one night, yeah,
Oh Gladys.
Felt a searching hand to frisk her,
Along the legs of the water line, yeah,
Oh Gladys.
Now Gladys knew she was in no condition
In no mood to play
I cracked a knee in her soft spot, nothing
Had got in her way.
I want no one to touch me,
I feel there's a curse on me, oh.
Directed down to the local drugstore
Got fixed up, now she's doing fine, yeah
Oh Gladys
Equipped with various kinds of apparatus
You know the feminine hygiene kind, yeah
Oh Gladys
Must have been a man to do these things
Who won her fall from grace
That day he programmed me
You should have seen the smile on his face
He said “You'll need someone to help you
THE CURSE
Young Gladys was a silky maiden
At thirteen, she was going strong, yeah.
Oh, Gladys.
Nicely filled out, fully laden,
But down below there was something wrong, yeah.
Oh, Gladys.
Nobody told her about the secrets
That ladies have to hide
Mom had no words to describe the things
That happened inside.
Need someone to help me,
I feel that there's a curse on me, oh.
Went down into the local disco,
For what used to be the one night, yeah,
Oh Gladys.
Felt a searching hand to frisk her,
Along the legs of the water line, yeah,
Oh Gladys.
Now Gladys knew she was in no condition
In no mood to play
I cracked a knee in her soft spot, nothing
Had got in her way.
I want no one to touch me,
I feel there's a curse on me, oh.
Directed down to the local drugstore
Got fixed up, now she's doing fine, yeah
Oh Gladys
Equipped with various kinds of apparatus
You know the feminine hygiene kind, yeah
Oh Gladys
Must have been a man to do these things
Who won her fall from grace
That day he programmed me
You should have seen the smile on his face
He said “You'll need someone to help you
When you feel like cursing me'', oh.
ROSA ON THE FACTORY FLOOR
She moves with machinery for the fancy sports car trade.
Part of the industrial process: she sees that they stay made.
She works from early A.M.
They work her to the bone.
When I call her in the evening, she's too tired to lift the phone.
Damned if I'll wait for her, and I'll be damned if I don't.
Damned if I only see that Rosa on the factory floor.
Signed on for the duration.
They say she came from the East.
With her tool bag and her coveralls, to pay the rent at least.
She doesn't talk with workers on the rest of the line
and over in the canteen, she's alone most of the time.
Somewhere in her history is a lock without a key.
She doesn't trust the management and she won't trust me.
We're two different animals. We live jungles apart.
ROSA ON THE FACTORY FLOOR
She moves with machinery for the fancy sports car trade.
Part of the industrial process: she sees that they stay made.
She works from early A.M.
They work her to the bone.
When I call her in the evening, she's too tired to lift the phone.
Damned if I'll wait for her, and I'll be damned if I don't.
Damned if I only see that Rosa on the factory floor.
Signed on for the duration.
They say she came from the East.
With her tool bag and her coveralls, to pay the rent at least.
She doesn't talk with workers on the rest of the line
and over in the canteen, she's alone most of the time.
Somewhere in her history is a lock without a key.
She doesn't trust the management and she won't trust me.
We're two different animals. We live jungles apart.
She circles round her freedom and I circle round her heart.
A SMALL CIGAR
A small cigar can change the world,
I know, I've done it frequently at parties
where I've won all the guests' attention
with my generosity and suave gentlemanly bearing.
A little flat tin case is all you need
breast-pocket conversation opener
and one of those ciggie lighters that look rather good
you can throw away when empty.
Must be declared a great success
My small cigars all vanish within minutes.
Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit a nearby tobacconist
to replenish my supply of small cigars and make the party swing again.
I know my clothes seem shabby
and don't fit this Hampstead soiree,
where unread copies of Rolling Stone,
well-thumbed Playboys
decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves.
If you ask me they’re on their way
To upper-middle-class oblivion.
The stupid twits, they roll their only
One cigarette between them.
My small cigar’s redundant now
In the haze of smoking pleasure.
Call it a day.
Get the hell away
Go down the cafe
For a cup of real tea.
By the tube station, there's a drunk old fool
who sells papers in the rush hour.
I hand to him ten small cigars.
He smiles, says, "Son, God bless you''.
A small cigar
Has changed his world, my friend
A small cigar
Has changed the world again
A small cigar, a small cigar,
a small cigar, a small cigar
A SMALL CIGAR
A small cigar can change the world,
I know, I've done it frequently at parties
where I've won all the guests' attention
with my generosity and suave gentlemanly bearing.
A little flat tin case is all you need
breast-pocket conversation opener
and one of those ciggie lighters that look rather good
you can throw away when empty.
Must be declared a great success
My small cigars all vanish within minutes.
Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit a nearby tobacconist
to replenish my supply of small cigars and make the party swing again.
I know my clothes seem shabby
and don't fit this Hampstead soiree,
where unread copies of Rolling Stone,
well-thumbed Playboys
decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves.
If you ask me they’re on their way
To upper-middle-class oblivion.
The stupid twits, they roll their only
One cigarette between them.
My small cigar’s redundant now
In the haze of smoking pleasure.
Call it a day.
Get the hell away
Go down the cafe
For a cup of real tea.
By the tube station, there's a drunk old fool
who sells papers in the rush hour.
I hand to him ten small cigars.
He smiles, says, "Son, God bless you''.
A small cigar
Has changed his world, my friend
A small cigar
Has changed the world again
A small cigar, a small cigar,
a small cigar, a small cigar
a small cigar.
MAN OF PRINCIPLE
One day he'll walk from out of this place.
You'll see a quiet determination on his face.
He'll toe no lines. Suffer no fools.
But he'll raise three cheers to the losing team from the other school.
A little dedication. A little pair of daddy's shoes to fill.
Compleat education. One day he'll be a man of principle.
And the battle's on. And he'll play to win.
Feel the blue blood rushing quick beneath his skin.
And grim they stand. And hard they fall.
Harder still, when their backs are up against the wall.
Gonna get your attention. But he's carrying his cross to the other hill.
With divine intervention, he can be a man of principle.
In the evening light, with a fair-ground girl
he stops himself as his head begins to whirl.
And he walks her home. And there's a kiss goodbye.
She feels a chill as she looks him in the eye.
Well, there's a time and a place now and it's not tonight she'll bend his will.
Slow realization she's looking at a man of principle.
Hung from the highest station by his old school tie undressed to kill
He could be a real sensation. But he's a man of principle.
A little dedication. A little pair of daddy's shoes to fill.
Compleat education. One day he'll be a man of principle.
Gonna get your attention. But he's carrying his cross to the other hill.
MAN OF PRINCIPLE
One day he'll walk from out of this place.
You'll see a quiet determination on his face.
He'll toe no lines. Suffer no fools.
But he'll raise three cheers to the losing team from the other school.
A little dedication. A little pair of daddy's shoes to fill.
Compleat education. One day he'll be a man of principle.
And the battle's on. And he'll play to win.
Feel the blue blood rushing quick beneath his skin.
And grim they stand. And hard they fall.
Harder still, when their backs are up against the wall.
Gonna get your attention. But he's carrying his cross to the other hill.
With divine intervention, he can be a man of principle.
In the evening light, with a fair-ground girl
he stops himself as his head begins to whirl.
And he walks her home. And there's a kiss goodbye.
She feels a chill as she looks him in the eye.
Well, there's a time and a place now and it's not tonight she'll bend his will.
Slow realization she's looking at a man of principle.
Hung from the highest station by his old school tie undressed to kill
He could be a real sensation. But he's a man of principle.
A little dedication. A little pair of daddy's shoes to fill.
Compleat education. One day he'll be a man of principle.
Gonna get your attention. But he's carrying his cross to the other hill.
With divine intervention, he can be a man of principle.
COMMONS BRAWL
All right and honorable gentlemen and lady too,
will kindly try to restrain themselves in derring-do
As verbal hard graffiti flies and echoes wall to wall
Our precious model of democracy,
it's the House of Commons brawl
One member from some dark mill town furious did cry,
as spittle frothed on folded chin to damn the lie.
Let’s serve this brief amid the rush of boos and loud catcalls
Let's finish this right here and now
at the House of Commons brawl
Kick, punch went the government
as with jackets off they charged heaven-bent.
Scratch, gouge went the other side
as the party firmly did divide.
Another day in the lives of those who would guide us through,
it follows perhaps that we should by their example do,
but there again I think for less poor Guy went to the wall.
The wrong house but the right idea
COMMONS BRAWL
All right and honorable gentlemen and lady too,
will kindly try to restrain themselves in derring-do
As verbal hard graffiti flies and echoes wall to wall
Our precious model of democracy,
it's the House of Commons brawl
One member from some dark mill town furious did cry,
as spittle frothed on folded chin to damn the lie.
Let’s serve this brief amid the rush of boos and loud catcalls
Let's finish this right here and now
at the House of Commons brawl
Kick, punch went the government
as with jackets off they charged heaven-bent.
Scratch, gouge went the other side
as the party firmly did divide.
Another day in the lives of those who would guide us through,
it follows perhaps that we should by their example do,
but there again I think for less poor Guy went to the wall.
The wrong house but the right idea
to end the Commons brawl.
NO STEP
I looked out of my window, saw stencilled black,
No step. No step.
There were nervous mothers with children crying in the back.
No step. No step.
Someone bought me my ticket, now I'm on the wing.
Hope my angels are watching me, do I hear them sing?
No step. No step.
Those afterburners cut in and kicked us high.
No step. No step.
The thin air shimmered, the sun cut through and burned my eye.
No step. No step.
Someone bought me my ticket, now I'm on the wing.
Hope my angels are watching me, do I hear them sing?
No step. No step No step. No step No step. No step No step.
Give me a jet stream schooner or a crew-lagged goose.
No step. No step.
I'm a clear-air jockey when they turn me loose
No step. No step.
Someone bought me my ticket to the captain's seat.
Will the shakes soon leave me, will I find my feet?
NO STEP
I looked out of my window, saw stencilled black,
No step. No step.
There were nervous mothers with children crying in the back.
No step. No step.
Someone bought me my ticket, now I'm on the wing.
Hope my angels are watching me, do I hear them sing?
No step. No step.
Those afterburners cut in and kicked us high.
No step. No step.
The thin air shimmered, the sun cut through and burned my eye.
No step. No step.
Someone bought me my ticket, now I'm on the wing.
Hope my angels are watching me, do I hear them sing?
No step. No step No step. No step No step. No step No step.
Give me a jet stream schooner or a crew-lagged goose.
No step. No step.
I'm a clear-air jockey when they turn me loose
No step. No step.
Someone bought me my ticket to the captain's seat.
Will the shakes soon leave me, will I find my feet?
No step. No step. No step. No step. No step.
DRIVE ON THE YOUNG SIDE OF LIFE
Your mother she protected you
And softened every blow
And brought you up to fear the worst
To be careful as you go.
And the learned educators
With dripfeed facts did fill
You up to here with reason
Well-meaning overkill.
If you find yourself a-growing
to be old before your time,
Get off the endless corridor
Set your soul out on the line.
Drive on the young side of life
Drive on the young side of life
Drive on the young side of life
When the pressure pains are building
And you're forced to join the crush
In the race to mediocrity
So respectable and plush.
And while the child within is raging
And threatens to break out,
Get off the endless corridor
Make a timely turnabout.
Drive on the young side of life (X8)
I DON’T WANT TO BE ME
Got a grand house out in the country.
Marble pillars holding the door.
Empty bottles lining the wall from the night before.
Got a Roller out in the garage.
But the wheels are stuck to the floor.
Got no reason to go anywhere, no friends call anymore.
I don't want to be me, I don't want to be me,
I know it's hard to see, but I don't want to be me.
Had me playing down at the palace.
I was declared the belle of the ball.
Made the boys take my goods and chattels away,
now I'm staring at an empty hall.
I don't want to be me, I don't want to be me,
I know it's hard to see, but I don't want to be me.
Pardon me I'm on my way.
Pardon me but I'm going.
Taking on the simple life and I feel the grass roots growing.
I'm going to ride the ragged road,
diamond spurs jangling into the sunset.
No circuits running overload Well maybe I'm not done yet.
Now there's nothing left in the cupboard
and three bears' been eating my soup.
My life is one big critical mess if you take a look.
And the butler's off in Ibiza on expense account gone berserk.
But I can't check out of this crazy world
without being a jerk I don't want to be me.
I don't want to be me, I know it's hard to see, but I don't want to be me.
Pardon me I'm on my way.
Pardon me but I'm going.
Taking on the simple life and I feel the grass roots growing.
I'm going to ride the ragged road,
diamond spurs jangling into the sunset.
No circuits running overload Well maybe I'm not done yet.
DRIVE ON THE YOUNG SIDE OF LIFE
Your mother she protected you
And softened every blow
And brought you up to fear the worst
To be careful as you go.
And the learned educators
With dripfeed facts did fill
You up to here with reason
Well-meaning overkill.
If you find yourself a-growing
to be old before your time,
Get off the endless corridor
Set your soul out on the line.
Drive on the young side of life
Drive on the young side of life
Drive on the young side of life
When the pressure pains are building
And you're forced to join the crush
In the race to mediocrity
So respectable and plush.
And while the child within is raging
And threatens to break out,
Get off the endless corridor
Make a timely turnabout.
Drive on the young side of life (X8)
I DON’T WANT TO BE ME
Got a grand house out in the country.
Marble pillars holding the door.
Empty bottles lining the wall from the night before.
Got a Roller out in the garage.
But the wheels are stuck to the floor.
Got no reason to go anywhere, no friends call anymore.
I don't want to be me, I don't want to be me,
I know it's hard to see, but I don't want to be me.
Had me playing down at the palace.
I was declared the belle of the ball.
Made the boys take my goods and chattels away,
now I'm staring at an empty hall.
I don't want to be me, I don't want to be me,
I know it's hard to see, but I don't want to be me.
Pardon me I'm on my way.
Pardon me but I'm going.
Taking on the simple life and I feel the grass roots growing.
I'm going to ride the ragged road,
diamond spurs jangling into the sunset.
No circuits running overload Well maybe I'm not done yet.
Now there's nothing left in the cupboard
and three bears' been eating my soup.
My life is one big critical mess if you take a look.
And the butler's off in Ibiza on expense account gone berserk.
But I can't check out of this crazy world
without being a jerk I don't want to be me.
I don't want to be me, I know it's hard to see, but I don't want to be me.
Pardon me I'm on my way.
Pardon me but I'm going.
Taking on the simple life and I feel the grass roots growing.
I'm going to ride the ragged road,
diamond spurs jangling into the sunset.
No circuits running overload Well maybe I'm not done yet.
No maybe I'm not done yet.
BROADFORD BAZAAR
Dirty white caravans down narrow roads sailing,
Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake.
With hot, red-faced drivers, horns’ flattened fifths wailing,
Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake.
And it’s “All come willing now
Spend a shilling now
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.”
There’s home-dyed woolens, and wee plastic Cuillins
The day of the Broadford Bazaar
Out of the north, no oil-rigs are drifting
And jobs for the many are down to the few
Blue-bottle choppers, they visit no longer
Like files to the jampots, they were just passing through.
And it's "All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car''
Where once stood oil-rigs so phallic
There’s only swear-words in Gaelic
To say at the Broadford bazaar.
All kinds of people come down for the opening
Crofters and cottars, while settlers galore
And up on the hill, there’s an old sheep that’s dying
But it had two new lambs born just a fortnight before.
And it's "All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.''
We’ll take pounds, francs and dollars from the well-heeled
And stamps from the Green Shield
BROADFORD BAZAAR
Dirty white caravans down narrow roads sailing,
Vivas, Cortinas, weaving in their wake.
With hot, red-faced drivers, horns’ flattened fifths wailing,
Putting trust in blind corners as they overtake.
And it’s “All come willing now
Spend a shilling now
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.”
There’s home-dyed woolens, and wee plastic Cuillins
The day of the Broadford Bazaar
Out of the north, no oil-rigs are drifting
And jobs for the many are down to the few
Blue-bottle choppers, they visit no longer
Like files to the jampots, they were just passing through.
And it's "All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car''
Where once stood oil-rigs so phallic
There’s only swear-words in Gaelic
To say at the Broadford bazaar.
All kinds of people come down for the opening
Crofters and cottars, while settlers galore
And up on the hill, there’s an old sheep that’s dying
But it had two new lambs born just a fortnight before.
And it's "All come willing now,
Spend a shilling now,
Stack up the back of your new motor-car.''
We’ll take pounds, francs and dollars from the well-heeled
And stamps from the Green Shield
The day of the Broadford Bazaar.
LIGHTS OUT
Last light's out. They're all abed
And something's in my room,
Creeping down towards me on the wall.
Daddy said it's just some flickering headlight through the gloom,
Making shapes through trees outside the hall.
But what the hell does he know?
He doesn't feel the dread
The cold restricting terror in the dark.
I've seen that silhouette before
Something the newsman said
Something about some monster in the park
It's you, you're the man on the TV screen.
It's you front page face of the dead.
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed.
The air is still and heavy now,
There's thunder in the sky.
He's dreaming up some message he can send.
I'm scared completely helpless
and I think I'm going to cry.
Are grownups brave or do they just pretend?
His face is growing clearer.
I can see his eyes glow red.
My teddy bear's the only friend I can feel.
The shadow's hand slips down the wall
And touches teddy's head
I now suspect that shadow will touch me.
It's you, you're the man on the TV screen.
It's you front page face of the dead.
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed.
It's you, you're the man on the TV screen.
It's you front page face of the dead.
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
LIGHTS OUT
Last light's out. They're all abed
And something's in my room,
Creeping down towards me on the wall.
Daddy said it's just some flickering headlight through the gloom,
Making shapes through trees outside the hall.
But what the hell does he know?
He doesn't feel the dread
The cold restricting terror in the dark.
I've seen that silhouette before
Something the newsman said
Something about some monster in the park
It's you, you're the man on the TV screen.
It's you front page face of the dead.
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed.
The air is still and heavy now,
There's thunder in the sky.
He's dreaming up some message he can send.
I'm scared completely helpless
and I think I'm going to cry.
Are grownups brave or do they just pretend?
His face is growing clearer.
I can see his eyes glow red.
My teddy bear's the only friend I can feel.
The shadow's hand slips down the wall
And touches teddy's head
I now suspect that shadow will touch me.
It's you, you're the man on the TV screen.
It's you front page face of the dead.
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed.
It's you, you're the man on the TV screen.
It's you front page face of the dead.
Locked up in the light of day
At night come out to play
To terrorize me there above my bed.
TRUCK STOP RUNNER
Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh I'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money
she won't take it: she says
Oh she says.
Oh she says I just know you're a Leo,
I can tell you've got a lion's heart.
She went on in this way for a while,
Like some 60's sister playing a part.
Ohh this cup of black coffee gonna do me just fine.
Through the dust in the mirror tiles I can see that door,
Keep it close behind.
Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.
Oh she looked so liberated.
She was looking fit to start.
She got this back to front and sideways,
wore her sleeve upon her heart.
Ohhh, oh, just one more coffee's 'bout all I can take.
Have to do a truck stop runner now.
I'm not man enough to make it,
She says.
She says.
Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.
Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh I'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money
she won't take it: she says
Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
Kick off those tired sports shoes
got a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.
Truck stop runner.
TRUCK STOP RUNNER
Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh I'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money
she won't take it: she says
Oh she says.
Oh she says I just know you're a Leo,
I can tell you've got a lion's heart.
She went on in this way for a while,
Like some 60's sister playing a part.
Ohh this cup of black coffee gonna do me just fine.
Through the dust in the mirror tiles I can see that door,
Keep it close behind.
Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.
Oh she looked so liberated.
She was looking fit to start.
She got this back to front and sideways,
wore her sleeve upon her heart.
Ohhh, oh, just one more coffee's 'bout all I can take.
Have to do a truck stop runner now.
I'm not man enough to make it,
She says.
She says.
Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
You know there's a party going on,
a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.
Stopped off on a long drive.
Down from the high country.
Spent a long time sitting here,
Long time counting hot miles.
Ohh, oh I'd like a cup of black coffee and a piece of sweet cake.
But the girl in the print dress doesn't want my money
she won't take it: she says
Oh she says.
She says, come on over to my house,
make a journey here sometime.
Kick off those tired sports shoes
got a ladder in my stocking you can climb,
There's a ladder you can climb.
Truck stop runner.
I'll be a truck stop runner
HARD LINER
Hard liner,
she brings ice when I bring fire.
She's a hard liner.
Tightrope cross Niagara. She'd cut the wire.
Never feel a thing.
Walked the sidewalk of another strange avenue.
Kicked my heels and wished my feet were in some other shoes.
But I'm not running
from that hard liner.
Well she brings ice when I bring fire.
She's a real hard liner.
How does she retain my heart's desire?
It's a funny thing.
Knows what she wants, knows how to get it, too.
Scares me with cold logic, scares me with the witch's brew.
But I keep on drinking.
Hard liner.
Hard liner.
I'm framed and I'm hanging on the wall.
She's a hard liner.
I'm like some big game trophy hat-stand in the hall.
But I remember warm and loving nights.
Pier-head restaurants,
Swaying mast-head lights
It's a funny thing.
Hard liner.
Yeah, she brings ice when I bring fire.
Hard liner.
Tightrope 'cross Niagara, don't cut my wire.
Hard liner, hard, hard liner.
She brings sun when I bring rain.
She's a real hard liner.
Yeah, we've got it all crossed up again.
Hard liner. Hard liner.
HARD LINER
Hard liner,
she brings ice when I bring fire.
She's a hard liner.
Tightrope cross Niagara. She'd cut the wire.
Never feel a thing.
Walked the sidewalk of another strange avenue.
Kicked my heels and wished my feet were in some other shoes.
But I'm not running
from that hard liner.
Well she brings ice when I bring fire.
She's a real hard liner.
How does she retain my heart's desire?
It's a funny thing.
Knows what she wants, knows how to get it, too.
Scares me with cold logic, scares me with the witch's brew.
But I keep on drinking.
Hard liner.
Hard liner.
I'm framed and I'm hanging on the wall.
She's a hard liner.
I'm like some big game trophy hat-stand in the hall.
But I remember warm and loving nights.
Pier-head restaurants,
Swaying mast-head lights
It's a funny thing.
Hard liner.
Yeah, she brings ice when I bring fire.
Hard liner.
Tightrope 'cross Niagara, don't cut my wire.
Hard liner, hard, hard liner.
She brings sun when I bring rain.
She's a real hard liner.
Yeah, we've got it all crossed up again.
Hard liner. Hard liner.
Now I don't think we can stay in the same town.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario