25TH ANNIVERSARY BOX SET
My Sunday Feeling
My Sunday feeling is coming on over me.
My Sunday feeling is coming on over me,
Now that the night is over.
Got to clear my head so I can see.
Till I get to put together,
that old feeling won't let me be.Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
I really don't remember,
But with one more cigarette and I think I might.
Till I get to put together,
well that old feeling can't get me right.Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said?
Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said?
Oh, I don't feel so good.
Need someone to help me to my bed.
Till I get to put together,
that old feeling is in my head.
A Song For Jeffrey
Gonna lose my way tomorrow,
gonna give away my car.
I'd take you along with me,
but you would not go so far.
Don't see what I do not want to see,
you don't hear what I don't say.
Won't be what I don't want to be,
I continue in my way.Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin' to,
I don't want to.Everyday I see the mornin' come on in the same old way.
I tell myself tomorrow brings me things I would not dream today.
Living In The Past
Happy and I'm smiling,
walk a mile to drink your water.
You know I'd love to love you,
and above you there's no other.
We'll go walking out
while others shout of war's disaster.
Oh, we won't give in,
let's go living in the past.Once I used to join in
every boy and girl was my friend.
Now there's revolution, but they don't know
what they're fighting.
Let us close out eyes;
outside their lives go on much faster.
Oh, we won't give in,
we'll keep living in the past.
Teacher
Well the dawn was coming,
heard him ringing on my bell.
He said, ``My name's the teacher,
that is what I call myself.
And I have a lesson
that I must impart to you.
It's an old expression
but I must insist it's true.Jump up, look around,
find yourself some fun,
no sense in sitting there hating everyone.
No man's an island and his castle isn't home,
the nest is for nothing when the bird has flown.''So I took a journey,
threw my world into the sea.
With me went the teacher
who found fun instead of me.Hey man, what's the plan, what was that you said?
Sun-tanned, drink in hand, lying there in bed.
I try to socialize but I can't seem to find
what I was looking for, got something on my mind.Then the teacher told me
it had been a lot of fun.
Thanked me for his ticket
and all that I had done.Hey man, what's the plan, what was that you said?
Sun-tanned, drink in hand, lying there in bed.
I try to socialize but I can't seem to find
what I was looking for, got something on my mind.
Sweet Dream
You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream,
can't hear your daddy's warning cry.
You're going back to be all the things you want to be,
while in sweet dreams you softly sigh.You hear my voice is calling
to be mine again,
live the rest of your life in a day.
Get out and get what you can
while your mummy's at home a-sleeping.
No time to understand
`cause they lost what they thought they were keeping.No one can see us in your sweet dream.
don't hear you leave to start the car.
All wrapped up tightly in the coat you borrowed from me,
your place of resting is not far.You'll hear my voice is calling
to be mine again,
live the rest of your life in a day.
Get out and get what you can
While your mummy's at home a-sleeping.
No time to understand,
`cause they lost what they thought they were keeping.
Cross-Eyed Mary
Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief
if he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
from a laughing baby's mouth
if he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
but she always plays the game.
Dines in Hampstead village
on expense accounted gruel,
and the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.Laughing in the playground - gets no kicks from little boys:
would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung,
who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along.
She's a poor man's rich girl
and she'll do it for a song.
She's a rich man stealer
but her favour's good and strong:
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate
helps the poor man get along.
Witch's Promise
Lend me your ear while I call you a fool.
You were kissed by a witch one night in the wood,
and later insisted your feelings were true.
The witch's promise was coming,
believing he listened while laughing you flew.Leaves falling red, yellow, brown, all are the same,
and the love you have found lay outside in the rain.
Washed clean by the water but nursing its pain.
The witch's promise was coming, and you're looking
elsewhere for your own selfish gain.Keep looking, keep looking for somewhere to be,
well, you're wasting your time, they're not stupid like he is.
Meanwhile leaves are still falling, you're too blind to see.You won't find it easy now, it's only fair.
He was willing to give to you, you didn't care.
You're waiting for more but you've already had your share.
The witch's promise is turning, so don't you wait up
for him, he's going to be late.
Life Is A Long Song
When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day,
and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say,
well, don't you fret, don't you fear,
I will give you good cheer.Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.If you wait then your plate I will fill.
As the verses unfold and your soul suffers the long day,
and the twelve o'clock gloom spins the room,
you struggle on your way.
Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry,
lick the dust from your eye.Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.We will meet in the sweet light of dawn.
As the Baker Street train spills your pain all over your new dress,
and the symphony sounds underground put you under duress,
well don't you squeal as the heel grinds you under the wheel.Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.
Life's a long song.But the tune ends too soon for us all.
Bungle in the Jungle
Walking through forests of palm tree apartments
scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents
down by the waterhole
drunk every Friday
eating their nuts
saving their raisins for Sunday.
Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows
they're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows.Let's bungle in the jungle
well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.Just say a word and the boys will be right there:
with claws at your back to send a chill through the night air.
Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder?
Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder.
I'll write on your tombstone, ``I thank you for dinner.''
This game that we animals play is a winner.Let's bungle in the jungle
well, that's all right by me.
I'm a tiger when I want love,
but I'm a snake if we disagree.The rivers are full of crocodile nasties
and He who made kittens put snakes in the grass.
He's a lover of life but a player of pawns
yes, the King on His sunset lies waiting for dawn
to light up His Jungle
as play is resumed.
The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune.
Minstrel In The Gallery
The minstrel in the gallery
looked down upon the smiling faces.
He met the gazes observed the spaces
between the old men's cackle.
He brewed a song of love and hatred,
oblique suggestions and he waited.
He polarized the pumpkin-eaters,
static-humming panel-beaters,
freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters
(salaried and collar-scrubbing.)
He titillated men-of-action
belly warming, hands still rubbing
on the parts they never mention.
He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating,
one-line jokers, TV documentary makers
(overfed and undertakers.)
Sunday paper backgammon players
family-scarred and women-haters.
Then he called the band down to the stage
and he looked at all the friends he'd made.The minstrel in the gallery
looked down upon the smiling faces.
He met the gazes observed the spaces
in between the old men's cackle.
He brewed a song of love and hatred,
oblique suggestions and he waited.
He polarized the pumpkin-eaters,
static-humming panel-beaters,The minstrel in the gallery
looked down on the rabbit-run.
And threw away his looking-glass -
saw his face in everyone.He titillated men-of-action
belly warming, hands still rubbing
on the parts they never mention.
(salaried and collar-scrubbing.)He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating,
one-line jokers, TV documentary makers
(overfed and undertakers.)
Sunday paper backgammon players
family-scarred and women-haters.
Then he called the band down to the stage
and he looked at all the friends he'd made.The minstrel in the gallery
looked down on the rabbit-run.
And threw away his looking-glass -
and saw his face in everyone.The minstrel in the gallery
looked down upon the smiling faces.
He met the gazes...
The minstrel in the gallery
Cold Wind to Valhalla
nd ride with us young bonny lass
with the angels of the night.
Crack wind clatter flesh rein bite
on an out-size unicorn.
Rough-shod winging sky blue flight
on a cold wind to Valhalla.
And join with us please
Valkyrie maidens cry
above the cold wind to Valhalla.
Breakfast with the gods. Night angels serve
with ice-bound majesty.Frozen flaking fish raw nerve
in a cup of silver liquid fire.
Moon jet brave beam split ceiling swerve
and light the old Valhalla.
Come join with us please
Valkyrie maidens cry
above the cold wind to Valhalla.
The heroes rest upon the sighs
of Thor's trusty hand maidens.
Midnight lonely whisper cries,
"We're getting a bit short on heroes lately."
Sword snap fright white pale goodbyes
in the desolation of Valhalla.
And join with us please
Valkyrie maidens ride
empty-handed on the cold wind to Valhalla.
Too Old to Rock 'N' Roll: Too Young to Die
The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light.
Death's head belt buckle yesterday's dreams
the transport cafe prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die.
He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
sold their souls straight down the line.And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do's.
For drinks on a Sunday work on Monday.
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes.Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and they're too young to die.
So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies tears in his eyes
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die.
Songs From The Wood
Let me bring you songs from the wood:
to make you feel much better than you could know.
Dust you down from tip to toe.
Show you how the garden grows.
Hold you steady as you go.
Join the chorus if you can:
it'll make of you an honest man.Let me bring you love from the field:
poppies red and roses filled with summer rain.
To heal the wound and still the pain
that threatens again and again
as you drag down every lover's lane.
Life's long celebration's here.
I'll toast you all in penny cheer.Let me bring you all things refined:
galliards and lute songs served in chilling ale.
Greetings well met fellow, hail!
I am the wind to fill your sail.
I am the cross to take your nail:
A singer of these ageless times.
With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes.
Songs from the wood make you feel much better.
Heavy Horses
Iron-clad feather-feet pounding the dust,
An October's day, towards evening,
Sweat embossed veins standing proud to the plough,Salt on a deep chest seasoning.
Last of the line at an honest day's toil,
Turning the deep sod under,
Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone,
Flies at the nostrils plunder.The Suffolk, the Clydesdale, the Percheron Vie
with the Shire on his feathers floating.
Hauling soft timber into the dusk
to bed on a warm straw coating.Heavy Horses, move the land under me.
Behind the plough gliding slipping and sliding free.
Now you're down to the few
And there's no work to do:
The tractor's on its way.Let me find you a filly for your proud stallion seed
to keep the old line going.
And we'll stand you abreast at the back of the wood
behind the young trees growing.
To hide you from eyes that mock at your girth,
and your eighteen hands at the shoulder.
And one day when the oil barons have all dripped dry
and the nights are seen to draw colder
they'll beg for your strength, your gentle power
your noble grace and your bearing.
And you'll strain once again to the sound of the gulls
in the wake of the deep plough, sharing.Standing like tanks on the brow of the hill
Up into the cold wind facing
In stiff battle harness, chained to the world
Against the low sun racing.
Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A Heavy Horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.Bring a song for the evening
Clean brass to flash the dawn
across these acres glistening
like dew on a carpet lawn.
In these dark towns folk lie sleeping
as the heavy horses thunder by
to wake the dying city
with the living horseman's cry.At once the old hands quicken,
bring pick and wisp and curry comb,
thrill to the sound of all
the heavy horses coming home.
Black Sunday
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
with freezing rains melting and no trains running
and sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
and my seat rocking from legs not quite matching
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching
Black Sunday falls one day too soonThe taxi that takes me will be moving too quickly
My suitcases simply too full for the closing
of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry
Two best-selling paper backs chosen at random
no sign of sales-persons to whom I might hand them
Black Sunday falls one day too soonAnd down at the airport are probably waiting
a few thousand passengers, overbooked seating
Time long suspended in transit-lounge traumas
connections broken and Special Branch waiting
conspicuously standing in holiday clothing
Black Sunday falls one day too soonPick up my feet and kick off my lethargy
Down to the gate with the old mood upon me
Get out and chase the small immortality
born in the minute of my next returning
Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning
Homecoming one day too soonAnd back at the house there's a grey sky a-tumbling
Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling
Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing
Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving
Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving
...one day too soon
Broadsword
I see a dark sail on the horizon set under a black
cloud that hides the sun.Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding.
Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman.
Get up to the roundhouse on the cliff-top standing.
Take women and children and bed them down.Bring me my broadsword and clear understanding.
Bring me my cross of gold as a talisman.
Bless with a hard heart those who surround me.
Bless the women and children who firm our hands.
Put our backs to the north wind. Hold fast by the river.
Sweet memories to drive us on for the motherland.
Nothing Is Easy
Nothing is easy.
Though time gets you worrying
my friend, it's o.k.
Just take your life easy
and stop all that hurrying,
be happy my way.When tension starts mounting
and you've lost count
of the pennies you've missed,
just try hard and see why they're not worrying me,
they're last on my list.
Nothing's easy.Nothing is easy, you'll find
that the squeeze won't turn out so bad.
Your fingers may freeze, worse things happen at sea,
there's good times to be had.
So if you're alone and you're down to the bone,
just give us a play.
You'll smile in a while and discover
that I'll get you happy my way
nothing's easy.
My God
People - what have you done
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England
in chains of history
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who
with His plastic crucifix
he's got him fixed
confuses me as to who and where and why
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.
With You There To Help Me
In days of peace
sweet smelling summer nights
of wine and song;
dusty pavements burning feet.
Why am I crying, I want to know.
How can I smile and make it right?
For sixty days and eighty nights
and not give in and lose the fight.I'm going back to the ones that I know,
with whom I can be what I want to be.
Just one week for the feeling to go --
and with you there to help me
then it probably will.I won't go down
acting the same old play.
Give sixty days for just one night.
Don't think I'd make it: but then I might.I'm going back to the ones that I know,
with whom I can be what I want to be.
Just one week for the feeling to go
and with you there to help me
then it probably will.
A Song For Jeffrey
Gonna lose my way tomorrow,
gonna give away my car.
I'd take you along with me,
but you would not go so far.
Don't see what I do not want to see,
you don't hear what I don't say.
Won't be what I don't want to be,
I continue in my way.Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin' to,
I don't want to.Everyday I see the mornin' come on in the same old way.
I tell myself tomorrow brings me things I would not dream today.
To Cry You A Song
Flying so high, trying to remember
how many cigarettes did I bring along?
When I get down I'll jump in a taxi cab
driving through London town
to cry you a song.It's been a long time
still shaking my wings.
Well, I'm a glad bird
I got changes to ring.Closing my dream inside its paper-bag.
Thought I saw angels
but I could have been wrong.
Search in my case,
can't find what they're looking for.
Waving me through
to cry you a song.It's been a long time
still shaking my wings.
Well I'm a glad bird
I got changes to ring.Lights in the street,
peeping through curtains drawn.
Rattling of safety chain taking too long.
The smile in your eyes was never so sweet before
Came down from the skies
to cry you a song.
Sossity: You're A Woman
Hello you straight-laced lady,
dressed in white but your shoes aren't clean.
Painted them up with polish
in the hope we can't see where you've been.
The smiling face that you've worn
to greet me rising at morning --
sent me out to work for my score.
Please me and say what it's for.
Give me the straight-laced promise
and not the pathetic lie.Tie me down with your ribbons
and sulk when I ask you why.
Your Sunday paper voice cries
demanding truths I deny.
The bitter-sweet kiss you pretended
is offered, our affair mended.
Sossity: You're a woman.
Society: You're a woman.All of the tears you're wasting
are for yourself and not for me.
It's sad to know you're aging
Sadder still to admit I'm free.
Your immature physical toy has grown,
too young to enjoy at last your straight-laced agreement:
woman, you were too old for me.
Sossity: You're a woman.
Society: You're a woman.
Reasons For Waiting
What a sight for my eyes
to see you in sleep.
Could it stop the sun rise
hearing you weep?
You're not seen, you're not heard
but I stand by my word.
Came a thousand miles
just to catch you while you're smiling.What a day for laughter
and walking at night.
Me following after, your hand holding tight.
And the memory stays clear with the song that you hear.
If I can but make
the words awake the feeling.What a reason for waiting
and dreaming of dreams.
So here's hoping you've faith in impossible schemes,
that are born in the sigh of the wind blowing by
while the dimming light brings the end to a night of loving.
We Used To Know
Whenever I get to feel this way,
try to find new words to say,
I think about the bad old days
we used to know.Nights of winter turn me cold --
fears of dying, getting old.
We ran the race and the race was won
by running slowly.Could be soon we'll cease to sound,
slowly upstairs, faster down.
Then to revisit stony grounds,
we used to know.Remembering mornings, shillings spent,
made no sense to leave the bed.
The bad old days they came and went
giving way to fruitful years.Saving up the birds in hand
while in the bush the others land.
Take what we can before the man
says it's time to go.Each to his own way I'll go mine.
Best of luck in what you find.
But for your own sake remember times
we used to know.
Guitar Solo
[Instrumental]
For A Thousand Mothers
Did you hear mother
saying I'm wrong but I know I'm right.
Did you hear father?
Calling my name into the night.
Saying I'll never be what I am now.
Telling me I'll never find what I've already found.
It was they who were wrong,
and for them here's a song.Did you hear baby
come back and tell you the things he's seen.
Did it surprise you
to be picked up at eight in a limousine?
Doing the things he's accustomed to do.
Which at one time it seemed like a dream
now it's true.
And unknowing
you made it all happen this way.Did you hear mother
saying I'm wrong but I know I'm right.
Did you hear father?
Calling my name into the night.
Saying I'll never be what I am now.
Telling me I'll never find what I've already found.
It was they who were wrong
and for them here's a song.
So Much Trouble
My baby left me, my mule got lame,
lost all my money in a poker game.
Wind storm came one summer's day,
carried the house and lift it away.Having so much trouble
having so much trouble.I'm having so much trouble.
It's finally driving me insane.Carry me to jail my pyjamas on,
I even hate that I was born.
Let me out of jail, come through town.
Couldn't find my wife, she had put me down.Having so much trouble,
having so much trouble.I'm having so much trouble:
It's finally driving me insane.
I pawned my watch and I pawned my chain,
I would have pawned myself but i was ashamed.
Got me a job on the city pay
early one morning layed me off that day.I'm having so much trouble,
I'm having so much trouble,
I'm having so much trouble,
Bought to drive me insane.
I'm having so much trouble:
It's finally driving me insane.
Trouble!
My Sunday Feeling
My Sunday feeling is coming on over me.
My Sunday feeling is coming on over me,
Now that the night is over.
Got to clear my head so I can see.
Till I get to put together,
that old feeling won't let me be.Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
Won't somebody tell me where I laid my head last night?
I really don't remember,
But with one more cigarette and I think I might.
Till I get to put together,
well that old feeling can't get me right.Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said?
Need some assistance, have you listened to what I said?
Oh, I don't feel so good.
Need someone to help me to my bed.
Till I get to put together,
that old feeling is in my head.
Some Day The Sun Won't Shine For You
In the morning - gonna get my things together.
Packing up and I'm leaving this place.
I don't believe you'll cry, there'll be a smile upon your face.I didn't think how much you'd hurt me.
That's something that I laugh about.
Bring in the good times, baby.
And let the bad times out.That old sun keeps on shining,
But someday it won't shine for you.
In the morning I'll be leaving.
I'll leave your mother too.
Living In The Past
Happy and I'm smiling,
walk a mile to drink your water.
You know I'd love to love you,
and above you there's no other.
We'll go walking out
while others shout of war's disaster.
Oh, we won't give in,
let's go living in the past.Once I used to join in
every boy and girl was my friend.
Now there's revolution, but they don't know
what they're fighting.
Let us close out eyes;
outside their lives go on much faster.
Oh, we won't give in,
we'll keep living in the past.
Bouree
[Instrumental]
With You There To Help Me
In days of peace
sweet smelling summer nights
of wine and song;
dusty pavements burning feet.
Why am I crying, I want to know.
How can I smile and make it right?
For sixty days and eighty nights
and not give in and lose the fight.I'm going back to the ones that I know,
with whom I can be what I want to be.
Just one week for the feeling to go --
and with you there to help me
then it probably will.I won't go down
acting the same old play.
Give sixty days for just one night.
Don't think I'd make it: but then I might.I'm going back to the ones that I know,
with whom I can be what I want to be.
Just one week for the feeling to go
and with you there to help me
then it probably will.
Thick As A Brick
Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper - your deafness a shout!
I may make you feel but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter - your love's in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.And the love that I feel is so far away:
I'm a bad dream that I just had today - and you
shake your head and say it's a shame.Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.See there! A son is born - and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
We'll make a man of him put him to trade
teach him to play Monopoly and to sing in the rain.I've come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
Cheerio
Along the coast road, by the headland
the early lights of winter glow.
I'll pour a cup to you my darling.
Raise it up - say Cheerio.
A New Day Yesterday
My first and last time with you
and we had some fun.
wenT walking through the trees, yeah!
And then I kissed you once.
Oh I want to see you soon
but I wonder how.
It was a new day yesterday
but it's an old day now.Spent a long time looking
for a game to play.
My luck should be so bad now
to turn out this way.
Oh I had to leave today
just when I thought I'd found you.
It was a new day yesterday
But it's an old day now.
Protect And Survive
[Instrumental]
Jack-A-Lynn
Cold aeroplanes, slow boats, warm trains
remind me of Jack-A-Lynn.
Lush hotels and pretty girls
won't cheer the misty mood I'm in.
Silly, sad, I've never had to write this before,
oh, Jack-A-Lynn.Funny how long nights allow
thoughts of Jack-A-Lynn.
When phantoms tread around my bed
to offer restless dreams they bring.
And it's just the time and place to find
a sad song to play for Jack-A-Lynn.Magpies that shriek, old boots that leak
call me to Jack-A-Lynn.
Coal-black cats in policeman's hats
nosing where the mice have been.
And the long miaow's beginning nowand I'm far, far from home and Jack-A-Lynn.
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
Jack, Jack-A-Lynn
The Whistler
[Instrumental]
My God
People - what have you done
locked Him in His golden cage.
Made Him bend to your religion
Him resurrected from the grave.
He is the god of nothing
if that's all that you can see.
You are the god of everything
He's inside you and me.
So lean upon Him gently
and don't call on Him to save you
from your social graces
and the sins you used to waive.
The bloody Church of England
in chains of history
requests your earthly presence at
the vicarage for tea.
And the graven image you-know-who
with His plastic crucifix
he's got him fixed
confuses me as to who and where and why
as to how he gets his kicks.
Confessing to the endless sin
the endless whining sounds.
You'll be praying till next Thursday to
all the gods that you can count.
Aqualung
Sitting on a park bench
eyeing little girls with bad intent.
Snot running down his nose
greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.
Drying in the cold sun
Watching as the frilly panties run.
Feeling like a dead duck
spitting out pieces of his broken luck.Sun streaking cold
an old man wandering lonely.
Taking time
the only way he knows.
Leg hurting bad,
as he bends to pick a dog-end
he goes down to the bog
and warms his feet.Feeling alone
the army's up the rode
salvation à la mode and
a cup of tea.
Aqualung my friend
don't start away uneasy
you poor old sod, you see, it's only me.
Do you still remember
December's foggy freeze
when the ice that
clings on to your beard is
screaming agony.
And you snatch your rattling last breaths
with deep-sea-diver sounds,
and the flowers bloom like
madness in the spring.
To Be Sad Is A Mad Way To Be
I've been about dizzy now, to be sad as a man will be.
I've been about dizzy now, to be sad as a man will be.
Don't miss my point of view, without lookin'you won't see.
You 'bout to believe it now: you can be happy everyday.
Don't believe a little word now, you can be happy everyday.
The merry time you'll ever have, you wear it down in everyway.
I've been about dizzy now, to be sad as a man will be.
I've been about dizzy now, to be sad as a man will be.
Don't need to wear this thing out, you wear it down in everyway.
Back To The Family
My telephone wakes me in the morning --
have to get up to answer the call.
So I think I'll go back to the family
where no one can ring me at all.
Living this life has its problems
so I think that I'll give it a break.
Oh, I'm going back to the family
`cos I've had about all I can take.Master's in the counting house
counting all his money.
Sister's sitting by the mirror --
she thinks her hair looks funny.
And here am I thinking to myself
just wond'ring what things to do.I think I enjoyed all my problems
Where I did not get nothing for free.
Oh, I'm going back to the family --
doing nothing is bothering me.
I'll get a train back to the city
that soft life is getting me down.
There's more fun away from the family
get some action when I pull into town.Everything I do is wrong,
what the hell was I thinking?
Phone keeps ringing all day long
I got no time for thinking.
And every day has the same old way
of giving me too much to do.
Passion Play Extract
Lover of the black and white it's your first night.
The Passion Play, goes all the way, spoils your insight.
Tell me how the baby's made, how the lady's laid,
why the old dogs howl with sadness.And your little sister's immaculate virginity
wings away on the bony shoulders of a young horse named George
who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
(The examining body examined her body.)Actor of the low-high Q, let's hear your view.
Peek at the lines upon your sleeves since your memory won't do.
Tell me, how the baby's graded, how the lady's faded,
why the old dogs howl with sadness.The dressing room is right behind.
We've got you taped, you're in the play.
How does it feel to be in the play?
How does it feel to play the play?
How does it feel to be the play?Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out;
for we do love you like a son, of that there's no doubt.
Tell us, is it you who are here for our good cheer?
Or are we here for the glory,
for the story,
for the gory satisfaction of telling you how absolutely awful you really are?
Wind Up/Locomotive Breath/Land Of Hope And Glory-Medley
[Instrumental]
Seal Driver
Take you away for my magic ship.
I have two hundred deisel horses thundering loud.
Sea birds call your name and the mountain's on fire
as the summer lightening cuts the sky like a hot wire.
And you ride on the swell and your heart is alive,
think I'll make you my seal driver.I'm no great looker, I'm no fast shakes.
I'll give you a steady push on a six knot simmering high tide.
I can hold us down - keep our head to the wind,
or let us roll on the broadside, cold spray flying in,
and we'll ride on the swell and our hearts are alive.
Let me make you my seal driver.I could captain you if you'd crew for me
follow white flecked spindrift - float on a moonkissed sea.Could you fancy me as a pirate bold,
or a longship Viking warrior with the old gods on his side?
Well I'm an inshore man and I'm nobody's hero,
but I'll make you tight for a windy night and a dark ride.
Let me take you in hand and bring you alive.
Going to make you my seal driver.
Nobody's Car
Black Volga following me
Nobody's car.
Mr. No-one at the wheel of
Nobody's car.
Wet pavements, thin apartments
quiet dissent from darkened doorways.
I want out alive.
Speak up for me if you can.
So, careful how you drive
in tourist city.Slap in front of my hotel
it's Nobody's car.
Is that my limousine?
No, it's Nobody's car.
Are you on routine assignment?
Plastic shades on black-browed eye-hole.
I read this book before.
I even saw the film.How did the ending go?
(In tourist city.)Black out.
It's a weird scenario.
I've seen a thousand times before
but only on my video.Feel my steps quick in the headlights of Nobody's car.
Down cobbled alley with no exit from
Nobody's car.
Doors slam, two figures silhouette
somewhere before, I feel we've met.
Can't tell you any more.
I agreed to go along with all they asked of me.
Intourist city.
I drive Nobody's car.
Pussy Willow
In the half-tone light of a young morning
she sighs and shifts on the pillow.
And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly
to kiss the Pussy Willow.In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing
in a sad voice nobody hears.
She waits in her castle of make-believing
for her white knight to appear.Pussy Willow - down fur-lined avenue
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs for the train - see, eight o'clock's coming
cutting dreams down to size again.Pussy Willow - down fur-lined avenue
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming
cutting dreams down to size again.She longs for the East and a pale dress flowing
an apartment in old Mayfair.
Or to fish the Spey, spinning the first run of Spring
or to die for a cause somewhere.Pussy Willow - down fur-lined avenue
brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.
Runs from the train. Hear her typewriter humming
cutting dreams down to size again.
Budapest
I think she was a middle-distance runner...
(the translation wasn't clear).
Could be a budding stately hero.
International competition in a year.
She was a good enough reason for a party...
(well, you couldn't keep up on a hard track mile)
while she ran a perfect circle.
And she wore a perfect smile
in Budapest... hot night in Budapest.We had to cozzy up in the old gymnasium...
dusting off the mandolins and checking on the gear.
She was helping out at the back-stage...
stopping hearts and chilling beer.
Yes, and her legs went on for ever.
Like staring up at infinity
through a wisp of cotton panty
along a skin of satin sea.
Hot night in Budapest.You could cut the heat, peel it back with the wrong side of a knife.
Feel it blowing from the sidefills. Feel like you were playing for your life
(if not the money).
Hot night in Budapest.She bent down to fill the ice box
and stuffed some more warm white wine in
like some weird unearthly vision
wearing only T-shirt, pants and skin.
You know, it rippled, just a hint of muscle.
But the boys and me were heading west
so we left her to the late crew
and a hot night in Budapest.
It was a hot night in Budapest.She didn't speak much English language...
(she didn't speak much anyway).
She wouldn't make love, but she could make good sandwich
and she poured sweet wine before we played.Hey, Budapest, cha, cha, cha. Let's watch her now.
I thought I saw her at the late night restaurant.
She would have sent blue shivers down the wall.
But she didn't grace our table.
In fact, she wasn't there at all.
Yes, and her legs went on forever.
Like staring up at infinity.
Her heart was spinning to the west-lands
and she didn't care to be
that night in Budapest.
Hot night in Budapest.
Nothing Is Easy
Nothing is easy.
Though time gets you worrying
my friend, it's o.k.
Just take your life easy
and stop all that hurrying,
be happy my way.When tension starts mounting
and you've lost count
of the pennies you've missed,
just try hard and see why they're not worrying me,
they're last on my list.
Nothing's easy.Nothing is easy, you'll find
that the squeeze won't turn out so bad.
Your fingers may freeze, worse things happen at sea,
there's good times to be had.
So if you're alone and you're down to the bone,
just give us a play.
You'll smile in a while and discover
that I'll get you happy my way
nothing's easy.
Kissing Willie
Breaking hearts in a market town.
She eats filet of sole and washes it down
with sparkling wine.
Nice girl, but a bad girl's better.
Qualifies in both ways to my mind.
But now she's kissing Willie.She shows a leg shows it damn well.
Knows how to drive a man right back to being a child.
Well, she's a nice girl, but her bad girl's better.
I can read it in her cheating eyes and know that in a while.
Well, she'll be kissing Willie. (My best friend, Willie.)Willie stands and Willie falls.
Willie bangs his head behind grey factory walls.
Well, she's a nice girl, but her bad girl's better.
Me and Willie just can't help come, when she calls.
Now she's kissing Willie. (My best friend, Willie.)
Still Loving You Tonight
It's a lonely life I live and I live this life to go
and if I leave you with one thing it's just that I want
you to know
I'll still be loving you tonight.
I left flowers on your table, left the lock on your door.
Staked a claim in your heartlands, put grain in your store.
I'll still be loving you tonight.Got fingers on the button of that telephone dial.
Call in and move your mountains, fill your spaces while
I'm still loving you tonight.You want to know how I can leave you?
How can I move along this way?
Too much of a good thing can make you crazy
and it's a good thing that happened to me today.
I'll still be loving you tonight.
Beggar's Farm
You're taking chances. And your reputation's going down.
Going out in the night-time. You think you make no sound.
But you don't fool me. 'Cos I know what you feel.
If you ignore the things I say -
someday soon's gonna find you
'way down on Beggar's Farm.I pay my money for no returns.
I think I need you. Going to find someone.
Oh, you don't fool me. 'Cos I know what you feel.
When you go out I ask you why.
And I won't worry when I see you lying
down on Beggar's Farm.When you run to me, going to turn away.
Won't even listen when you try to say
that you were only fooling around -
'Cos I know what you feel.
But if you ask me nicely, woman -
I'll wake up early one day soon and
I'll visit you down on Beggar's Farm.
Passion Jig
[Instrumental]
A Song For Jeffrey
Gonna lose my way tomorrow,
gonna give away my car.
I'd take you along with me,
but you would not go so far.
Don't see what I do not want to see,
you don't hear what I don't say.
Won't be what I don't want to be,
I continue in my way.Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin',
Don't see, see, see where I'm goin' to,
I don't want to.Everyday I see the mornin' come on in the same old way.
I tell myself tomorrow brings me things I would not dream today.
Living In The Past
Happy and I'm smiling,
walk a mile to drink your water.
You know I'd love to love you,
and above you there's no other.
We'll go walking out
while others shout of war's disaster.
Oh, we won't give in,
let's go living in the past.Once I used to join in
every boy and girl was my friend.
Now there's revolution, but they don't know
what they're fighting.
Let us close out eyes;
outside their lives go on much faster.
Oh, we won't give in,
we'll keep living in the past.