The Other side

 The otherside, the otherside

There is always another side

You can hit or miss the mark

Or you can shoot in the dark

But I'll see you on the other side

She left for New Orleans, 

She left for New England

And roved around the countryside

(She said) See you on the other side

The otherside, the otherside

I'll see you on the other side

There are always two sides

 You don't have to ask

I will see you on the other side

When the light is low

And you cannot find your home

You can look for me from far away

I'll see you on another day

I will see you on the other side

The other side, the otherside

I'll see you on the other side

You can turn on the light

Don't get lost in the night

I will see you on the other side

Hell bound

 The birth of clouds

and lightning

the ants set sail on a cornflake

I am a heart I have been transplanted 

I don't know the man for whom I beat

Earth cakes

As the mantle piece of the earth is chipped

And the fire in the hearth skips

And trips in power burst

 The smoke rises up the chimney

the house is

Hephaestus hammering down in hell

Is sending up his magma thunder

As plates are torn asunder

And Others are pulled under

And clapping irons

And molten chains

Mountain bend but also break

John Snow knows nothing

Train

While travelling on a train going south

I fell asleep and a fly flew into my mouth

You were travelling in the opposite direction

I needed a map for my soul’s resurrection

We both said good bye

To the man in the sky

Both let go of our lover

There’s one thing I know

When you’ve got to go

You’ve got nowhere to run for cover

I was travelling deep in the corners of the country

Right into the pockets of the wild

I found in there a stone so polished like a bone

And I thought of when I was a child

Somethings look different the more you look at them

Somethings don’t ever change

The reasons for our break up

May have been bound in chains

But I can’t keep freeing us again and again

I am breaking loose of the noose

Around my neck, I am felling the tallest tree in the garden

I have to let others grow

Have the chance to get to know other flowers

Other trees

before the love in me hardens

I’ve been walking in these shanty towns

Like some city fool

Lost with my head cast down

A failure in Love’s school

Just some kind of wandering clown

Pulling faces at the pool

Hearing voices put me down

While others draw me up a stool

Budapest Hotel

 The dumb bells spoke 

And the fires smoke

The travelling salesman

Told another joke

About the poor folk

And the rich folk as well

But he can't tell you nothing

Except what's good to sell

The Arabian knights

They charged in ten thousand

To the top of the hill

Where the dunes golden sand

Glistened and sparkled

And listened like the stars

But they only spoke silence

Like the surface of Mars

And somethings stand

While other things fall

I thought the hotel was grand

Until I saw the holes in the wall

From the bullets that were fired

When the communists came

Well they never said nothing

Except nothing does change

Choices

 There are fires that are burning

In little homesteads churning

Out the milk

And fraught and fought

With the captain from the fort

But he just won't let them go

Along the paths of gravel

Where they travel through four feet of snow

And I should have guessed

What a mess it all would show

After I abandoned the best

That the country had let go

And yet we each must pass the test

Of the coal black crow

Who chooses life and death

From her branch throne of hedgerow

To the Tune of Black Nag -old English folk dance tune

 When you see the signs road, 

you see the signs on the road

And hear the sighs of the toad

Once you see the signs on the road

And you know just what you are owed

You can travel on

Well the traveller came to rest one day

In a forest glade

The willows grew and quite obscured

His rightful right of way

He called to the trees of the bay

He called to the owls of the tree

And said won't you get out of my way

They said

Once you read the signs of the road

You'll know just what you are owed

And what you have to pay

The traveller got up and shouted

How dare you talk to me that way

I have the right to pass, from this path I shall not stray

But the trees cried why, why behave that way

Why can't you see your way

You're as stubborn as an ass that neighs

Won't you read the signs on the road

Then you shall know just what you are owed

And how much you have to pay

Dixie Tune

 Go on your way, way way over the delta

Come home, come home

All ye travellers of the trail

On your way

Over that old Mountain, 

Over the paths of stone

Step your clip-clop shoes

On the paths of stone

Over that wide river

Row, row your boat

row it til  the break of day

Heave, heave your shovel in the mud and clay

Over that old mountain, mountain all the day

Step, step upon the trail

Where the white doves sail

Through the mists of day

Up into the sunshine

Til you find your rightful way

Once you're there, once you're there

time turkey

 I used to lie in the gravel of the sun

For hours and hours

Used lie above the woodshed

On the virginia creepers

And examine the soft jews ear

That grew on the elder

That stood by the slat wooden fence

That sometimes blew down in the wind

I used to watch the cat walking along the fence top

And then she would travel down

and up the side of the house plot

I had a heart to love

All the bees in the foxgloves

But I can't say that now

I used to feel care free chasing butterflies in fields

Or watching snails wandering underneath Rhubarb leaves

I used to have that desire to find out all about the world

But I don't have that now

Wooden Verse

 You might be a weary traveller

Or tourist down the road

You might be party rabbler

Who needs to lighten his load

Well might the words unravel her

And let down Rapunzel's hair

For Poetry is the great relaxer

It has time to stop and stare

You might be loose like a canon

Bowling down the street

Or you might stand by your stantion

And never move your feet

There is a poem for everyone

For each a line or phrase

That sends the heart in all directions

Like a new sun's rays

And if but just one word

Might linger on your lips

Then lightness as if of a bird

May begin to swing your hips

And if in a restful moment

The thought bird does return to rest

Upon your troubled shoulders 

then from its presence you can learn

For nothing may ease the soul

Then the sweet honey of a line

That is you can have my money

If I can take your time

Do you think that I'm a fool

To want the things I want

To throw away the lines from school

Like water from the font

Well, welcome one an' all

To the writer who's on pont

Now lay down all your tools

And hear the things you want

travelogue

 Through hell and high water for the captain's daughter

I roamed across the sea

And though I had sought her,

I never found what I oughta,

But I was just tryin' to be free

When she walked in a bar

Like a movie Star

I was someone behind the scenes

And she tried to mar,

My feathers and tar

She looked cruel and mean

And I bit her bra

And I lit my cigar

On her fire, if you know what I mean

now she's travelled far

in a big black car

and I hardly know where I've been

well it could have been mars

Or down the bottom of bell jars

But that must have been pretty lean

Now she has gone back

To her homeward shack

And I'm left like a string bean

All strung out on the shelf of self

Left here alone so unclean

I must wash myself of her elf health

And get me back on the road again

And it should not be a wealth to

discover oneself

Right back where I had always been

Only in creation are we living beings

Only through destruction can we find construction

And that's all I have to say of those things

In the circus

 Oh the distance I travel in my car

Is not as far as I go on my guitar

In the circus

And the lamp posts and telegraphs 

They raised

Are just like crazy paving

Another sign of the days

In the circus

And if I could talk to any cat

Who walked down the road

I'd probably mention that 

In the circus

And a picture of blue sky and waves

Was drawing in my mind

Like some crazy craves

In the circus

But near or far

I don't think so much of high or flat

Just the plans of the government and that

In the circus

Wonderland

 Are you going to the Wonderland?

Are you going my way?

For I wish to be there

For as long as I can 

oh

Are you going to stay?

Can you take me in your hand

Can you show me the way

I want to visit the Wonderland

I want to go down that way

Life is dreary and I can't stand

The traffic of the highway

And the leaves are falling

and turning brown

I don't want to go down that way

So if you visit the Wonderland

Be sure to bring me along

For I have a wish on the stars and the sand

That in time I will be strong

Enough to stay in your Wonderland

Japanese boy

 I'm telling you it's a cupescience of over rated nonsense

It's a total cacophany, over brillo-creamed joy

It's a sad requiem for a gutteral cathedral

Of half pandered to over cooked Japanese Boy

Well old boy I see in your hair you have cats, and rats

And some signs of despair

And travelogue dialogues of repeated festoon

With the words and the manner of Sigfreid Sassoon

Where as here the Close encounter electronic keyboard wind chimes

Seem to turn on the salient cosmic times

And left like a marker in somebody's film

Oh they are here you can see them,

They are here I fear

The alien anthem of the black and white bear

What is it we want beyond a salad and brunch

What do we crave but eggs and bacon

And can we find the time for this kind of rhyme

When the train has nearly left the station

Submarine

 Where do planes take off from?

They take off from airports

What is going from one place to another?

Travelling is going from one place to another

What is a means of water transport?

It is a submarine

A submarine

If you know what I mean

It is a submarine

Emperor's New Clothes

 This is taken from Radiolisting.org about Radio 3's words and music programme tonight. I'm sharing some of the links to extracts and music that can be freely found on the web.

SUN 17:30 Words and Music (m001j4rv)
The Emperor's New Clothes

Jane Austen’s Catherine in Northanger Abbey wonders what she should wear to the ball, while Dickens’s Miss Havisham still wears her wedding clothes years after she was ditched. Aldous Huxley considers the folds in his trousers, and Diogenes folds his cloak in two for summer. Jenny Joseph threatens to wear purple when she is old, and the Emperor parades without any clothes at all. And in London Fashion Week we celebrate the wild and wonderful life and work of the late Vivienne Westwood. There’s music from Prokofiev’s Cinderella, Richard Strauss’s Salome, Anoushka Shankar, PJ Harvey and JS Bach. Our readers are Julia Winwood and Jonathan Keeble.

Producer in Salford: Nick Holmes

You might be interested in a discussion on Free Thinking about a poetry exhibition inspired by fashion at the National Poetry Library at London's Southbank Centre. Shahidha Bari discusses the display of writing by Gwendolyn Brooks, Stevie Smith, Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath and Audre Lorde with the exhibition organisers Sarah Parker and Gesa Werner.

02 00:01:25
Jane Austen
Northanger Abbey. Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01

04 00:05:35
Charles Dickens
Great Expectations. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:01

She was dressed in rich materials,—satins, and lace, and silks,—all of white. Her shoes were white. And she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and she had bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. Some bright jewels sparkled on her neck and on her hands, and some other jewels lay sparkling on the table. Dresses, less splendid than the dress she wore, and half-packed trunks, were scattered about. She had not quite finished dressing, for she had but one shoe on,—the other was on the table near her hand,—her veil was but half arranged, her watch and chain were not put on, and some lace for her bosom lay with those trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and some flowers, and a Prayer-Book all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass.

It was not in the first few moments that I saw all these things, though I saw more of them in the first moments than might be supposed. But I saw that everything within my view which ought to be white, had been white long ago, and had lost its lustre and was faded and yellow. I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. I saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now hung loose had shrunk to skin and bone.

"Who is it?" said the lady at the table.

"Pip, ma'am."

"Come nearer; let me look at you. Come close."

It was when I stood before her, avoiding her eyes, that I took note of the surrounding objects in detail, and saw that her watch had stopped at twenty minutes to nine, and that a clock in the room had stopped at twenty minutes to nine.

"Look at me," said Miss Havisham. "You are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?"

05 00:06:33 A Hawk and a Hacksaw
Bury Me in the Clothes I was Married In
Performer: A Hawk and a Hacksaw
Duration 00:00:02

06 00:09:04 JS Bach
Sonata No. 2 for violin solo in A minor, BWV 1003 - Andante
Performer: Sigiswald Kuijken
Duration 00:00:05

07 00:10:06
Anne Carson
Father's Old Blue Cardigan. Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01

08 00:14:32
Gertrude Stein
Tender Buttons (A Long Dress). Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01

09 00:15:07 Jay Livingston
Buttons and Bows
Performer: Dinah Shore
Duration 00:00:02
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8vTvCZzBRQ

 

10 00:17:09 Arthur Bliss
The Lady of Shalott
Orchestra: BBC Concert Orchestra
Conductor: Martin Yates
Duration 00:00:04

11 00:17:23
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Lady of Shalott. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:01
ALFRED TENNYSON, LORD TENNYSON

The Lady of Shalott

PART I

 

ON either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road runs by

                    To many-tower'd Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow

Round an island there below,

                    The island of Shalott.

 

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,

Little breezes dusk and shiver

Thro' the wave that runs for ever

By the island in the river

                    Flowing down to Camelot.

Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle imbowers

                    The Lady of Shalott.

 

By the margin, willow-veil'd,

Slide the heavy barges trail'd

By slow horses; and unhail'd

The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd

                    Skimming down to Camelot:

But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand?

Or is she known in all the land,

                    The Lady of Shalott?

 

Only reapers, reaping early

In among the bearded barley,

Hear a song that echoes cheerly

From the river winding clearly,

                    Down to tower'd Camelot:

And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers 'Tis the fairy

                    Lady of Shalott.'

12 00:21:34 Anoushka Shankar
Naked
Performer: Anoushka Shankar
Duration 00:00:04

13 00:21:55
Martin Jenkins
Diogenes the Cynic. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:04

Socrates, who died when Diogenes was an infant, had also tried to live a simple life. He usually went barefoot (although he would wear sandals when the occasion demanded it) and he wore shabby old clothes; but he had a house and a family. Walking through the market, Socrates famously said, “How many things I don’t need!” Diogenes took Socratic simplicity to its logical conclusion, so much so that Plato, Diogenes’ contemporary, allegedly called him ‘Socrates gone mad’. The story goes that Diogenes saw a mouse eating the crumbs from the coarse bread on which he had been dining, and was inspired to reduce his own life to the bare minimum. So he reduced his clothing to a single cloak that he could fold in two, making him cool in summer and warm in winter. He consistently went barefoot. He carried a knapsack for such possessions as he needed – basically his food. He lived by begging, but was willing to be invited to dinner – though he once refused to dine a second time with a host whom he felt had not been properly grateful for his presence the first time round. He had no house, but notoriously slept in a large ceramic jar (which has often been called a ‘barrel’). Another story about his austerity is that he had a wooden cup but threw it away when he saw a lad drinking out of a cupped hand, and realised that he already had what he needed for drinking.

14 00:23:35
Kahlil Gibran
On Clothes. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:01
On Clothes

Kahlil Gibran - 1883-1931

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the weaver said, Speak to us of Clothes.

     And he answered:

     Your clothes conceal much of your beauty, yet they hide not the unbeautiful.

     And though you seek in garments the freedom of privacy you may find in them a harness and a chain.

     Would that you could meet the sun and the wind with more of your skin and less of your raiment,

     For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.

 

     Some of you say, “It is the north wind who has woven the clothes we wear.”

     And I say, Ay, it was the north wind,

     But shame was his loom, and the softening of the sinews was his thread.

     And when his work was done he laughed in the forest.

     Forget not that modesty is for a shield against the eye of the unclean.

     And when the unclean shall be no more, what were modesty but a fetter and a fouling of the mind?

     And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.
15 00:25:40 David Bowie
Fashion
Performer: The Sunburst Band
Duration 00:00:03
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPHF4933h4w

16 00:25:47
Hadley Freeman
Vivienne Westwood, Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01
Vivienne Westwood has become what she never wanted to be: a national treasure, the status conferred by a V&A retrospective, which celebrates the work of the punk icon with a strong sense of tradition.

 

I’ve never really felt that Vivienne Westwood was for me. But then, the feeling was probably mutual. Certainly the one, brief and pretty unmemorable time that we met, the designer with a notorious penchant for eschewing airkissing for brutal honesty gave that impression. It was at one of those annoying “mwah-mwah, dahling, dahling” kind of fashion parties a few years ago. In all honesty, we both looked equally bored, but that was where the similarities ended. A well-meaning but patently misguided PR (is there any other kind?) attempted to introduce us and make us the best of friends: Westwood, in an enormous draped crinoline evening gown, replete with gallumphing bustle, took a skating glance at my typical couldn’t-care-less attire of jeans, Converse and blouse, and turned away. Westwood was not for me, and I was not for her.

 

Think about Vivienne Westwood’s clothes and the word “high” comes to mind: high octane, high cleavages and very, very high heels. For those of us with a more timid approach to dressing, such in-your-face style can seem, at best, as intimidating as the lady herself. Yet the woman who once proclaimed that she “never wants to be a national treasure” has been given the final confirmation that she is just that, with a retrospective of her work at the Victoria and Albert museum.
17 00:27:51
Veronica Horwell
Vivienne Westwood.Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01
No fashion designer ever had a Paris show like the one staged by Vivienne Westwood in 1991. Although she was by then 50 and had been making clothes for sale for 20 years – and the British Fashion Council had named her designer of the year – she stitched much of that collection on her own sewing machine in her shabby south London flat, hand-finishing it in the van that transported her, and the models, to France, where the couturier Azzedine Alaïa had invited her to guest-show. Despite those limitations, the collection was a major success.

 

The life of Westwood, who has died aged 81, was like that, both rackety and responsible.

18 00:28:53
Billy Collins
Taking off Emily Dickinson's Clothes. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:01
Taking Off Emily Dickinson's Clothes

 

First, her tippet made of tulle,

easily lifted off her shoulders and laid

on the back of a wooden chair.

 

And her bonnet,

the bow undone with a light forward pull.

 

Then the long white dress, a more

complicated matter with mother-of-pearl

buttons down the back,

so tiny and numerous that it takes forever

before my hands can part the fabric,

like a swimmer's dividing water,

and slip inside.

 

You will want to know

that she was standing

by an open window in an upstairs bedroom,

motionless, a little wide-eyed,

looking out at the orchard below,

the white dress puddled at her feet

on the wide-board, hardwood floor.

 

The complexity of women's undergarments

in nineteenth-century America

is not to be waved off,

and I proceeded like a polar explorer

through clips, clasps, and moorings,

catches, straps, and whalebone stays,

sailing toward the iceberg of her nakedness.

 

Later, I wrote in a notebook

it was like riding a swan into the night,

but, of course, I cannot tell you everything -

the way she closed her eyes to the orchard,

how her hair tumbled free of its pins,

how there were sudden dashes

whenever we spoke.

 

What I can tell you is

it was terribly quiet in Amherst

that Sabbath afternoon,

nothing but a carriage passing the house,

a fly buzzing in a windowpane.

 

So I could plainly hear her inhale

when I undid the very top

hook-and-eye fastener of her corset

 

and I could hear her sigh when finally it was unloosed,

the way some readers sigh when they realize

that Hope has feathers,

that reason is a plank,

that life is a loaded gun

that looks right at you with a yellow eye.
19 00:30:12 Richard Strauss
Salome: Dance of the Seven Veils
Orchestra: City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra
Conductor: Andris Nelsons
Duration 00:00:09

20 00:39:38
Katherine Mansfield
A New Hymn.

Sing a song of men's pyjamas,

Half-past-six has got a pair,

And he's wearing them this evening,

And he's looking such a dear.

 

Sing a song of frocks with pockets

I have got one, it is so's

I can use my `nitial hankies

Every time I blow my nose.

21 00:39:59 Erik Satie
Les Valses distinguees du precieux degoute no.2; Son binocle
Performer: Alan Marks
Duration 00:00:01

22 00:41:25 Lee Hazlewood
These Boots Were Made for Walkin'
Performer: Emilie‐Claire Barlow
Duration 00:00:03
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHjVyU_h690

23 00:41:25
Benjamin Zephaniah
Vegan Steven's Vegan Clothes. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:03
Remember that vegan called Steven

Yes he would not kill for no reason,

Well I saw him today

Wearing nothing I say

But some cabbage leaves

With a few peas on.

 

Benjamin Zephaniah
24 00:45:17 Bryn Terfel (bass baritone), Annette Bryn Parri (piano) (artist)
La Bohè me; Act 4; Vecchia Zimarra, Senti
Performer: Bryn Terfel (bass baritone), Annette Bryn Parri (piano)
Duration 00:00:02

25 00:47:14
Hans Christian Andersen
The Emperor's New Clothes . Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:01
The Emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital. All the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, “Oh! How beautiful are our Emperor’s new clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the mantle; and how gracefully the scarf hangs!” No one would admit these much admired clothes could not be seen because, in doing so, he would have been saying he was either a simpleton or unfit for his job.

 

“But the Emperor has nothing at all on!” said a little child. “Listen to the voice of the child!” exclaimed his father. What the child had said was whispered from one to another. “But he has nothing at all on!” at last cried out all the people. The Emperor was upset, for he knew that the people were right. However, he thought the procession must go on now! The lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up a train, although, in reality, there was no train to hold, and the Emperor walked on in his underwear.

Clothes of Sand

Nick Drake

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oE6PfDsYVjA

 

Who has dressed you in strange clothes of sand?

Who has taken you far from my land?

Who has said that my sayings were wrong?

And who will say that I stayed much too long?

Clothes of sand have covered your face

Given you meaning, taken my place

Some make your way on down to sea

Something has taken you so far from me

Does it now seem worth all the color of skies?

To see the earth through painted eyes

To look through panes of shaded glass

See the stains of winter's grass

Can you now return to from where you came?

Try to burn your changing name

Or with silver spoons and colored light

Will you worship moons in winter's night?

Clothes of sand have covered your face

Given you meaning taken my place

So make your way on down to the sea

Something has taken you so far from me

27 00:51:00 Ottorino Respighi
Three Botticelli Pictures: The Adoration of the Magi
Orchestra: City of London Sinfonia
Conductor: Richard Hickox
Duration 00:00:09

28 00:52:33
Aldous Huxley
The Doors of Perception. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:01

29 01:00:11
L. M. Montgomery
Anne of Green Gables. Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01
After two hours of smoking and hard reflection Matthew arrived at a solution of his problem. Anne was not dressed like the other girls!

 

The more Matthew thought about the matter the more he was convinced that Anne never had been dressed like the other girls--never since she had come to Green Gables. Marilla kept her clothed in plain, dark dresses, all made after the same unvarying pattern. If Matthew knew there was such a thing as fashion in dress it was as much as he did; but he was quite sure that Anne's sleeves did not look at all like the sleeves the other girls wore. He recalled the cluster of little girls he had seen around her that evening--all gay in waists of red and blue and pink and white--and he wondered why Marilla always kept her so plainly and soberly gowned.

Of course, it must be all right. Marilla knew best and Marilla was bringing her up. Probably some wise, inscrutable motive was to be served thereby. But surely it would do no harm to let the child have one pretty dress--something like Diana Barry always wore. Matthew decided that he would give her one; that surely could not be objected to as an unwarranted putting in of his oar. Christmas was only a fortnight off. A nice new dress would be the very thing for a present. Matthew, with a sigh of satisfaction, put away his pipe and went to bed, while Marilla opened all the doors and aired the house.
30 01:01:49 Cole Porter
Silk Stockings
Singer: Don Ameche
Duration 00:00:02

31 01:03:55
Robert Herrick
Upon Julia's Clothes. Read by Jonathan Keeble
Duration 00:00:02

32 01:04:17 PJ Harvey
Dress (demo)
Performer: PJ Harvey
Duration 00:00:01
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVbgYf5CUKs

Put on that dress

I'm going out dancing

Starting off red

Clean and sparkling, he'll see me

 

[Verse 2]

Music play, make it dreamy for dancing

Must be a way that I can dress to please him

It's hard to walk in the dress, it's not easy

I'm swinging over like a heavy-loaded fruit tree

 

 

 

[Chorus]

If you put it on, if you put it on

If you put it on, if you put it on

 

[Verse 3]

It's sad to see

Lonely, all this lonely

Close up my eyes

Dreamy, dreamy music, make it be alright

 

[Verse 4]

Music play, make it good for romancing

Must be a way I can dress to please him

Swing and sway, everything'll be alright

But it's feeling so damn tight tonight

 

[Chorus]

If you put it on, if you put it on

If you put it on, if you put it on

 

[Bridge]

"You purdy thang," my man says

"But I bought you beautiful dresses"

"You purdy thang," my man says

"But I bought you beautiful dresses"

 

You might also like

Oh My Lover

PJ Harvey

Long Snake Moan

PJ Harvey

Happy and Bleeding

PJ Harvey

 

[Verse 5]

Filthy tight, the dress is filthy

I'm falling flat, and my arms are empty

Clear the way, better get it out of this room

A falling woman in dancing costume

 

[Chorus]

If you put it on, if you put it on

If you put it on, if you put it on

If you put it on, if you put it on

If you put it on, if you put it on
33 01:06:08 William Walton
As You Like It: The Forest of Arden
Ensemble: English Serenata
Conductor: Guy Woolfenden
Duration 00:00:01
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEvicAAH-ew

34 01:06:21
William Shakespeare
As You Like It, Act I Scene III. Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01
Rosalind

Why, whither shall we go?

Celia

To seek your father in the forest of Arden.

Rosalind

Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Celia

I’ll put myself in poor and mean attire
And with a kind of umber smirch my face.
The like do you. So shall we pass along
And never stir assailants.

Rosalind

Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar-spear in my hand, and — in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will.

Celia

What shall I call thee when thou art a man?

Rosalind

I’ll have no worse a name than Jove’s own page,
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.

36 01:11:23
Jenny Joseph
Warning. Read by Julia Winwood
Duration 00:00:01
Warning

Jenny Joseph

 

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

 

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

 

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

 

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
37 01:12:50 Gogol Bordello
Start Wearing Purple
Performer: Gogol Bordello
Duration 00:00:01

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkkIwO_X4i4

The magic stone

 The stone lay there on the burnt hillside

She was the only survivor of the fire tide

And this was a magic stone

That had been enchanted by a witch

Who laid it there after her lover died

And it gave all love to those who touched it

The magic passed on as it went

It was turned over and over again

Its painted runes and images

Left it up turned and faced

Picked up and dropped by passers by

Who inspected it and said the words to themselves

In a half sleepy, half enchanted manner

And then forgot what they were doing

And dropped the stone back

on the side of the path

And in that way the stone got all its words out

It was being picked up and passed on from hand to hand

palm to palm and left back in the grass for hours or days sometimes

Over night the snails crawled over it or birds landed on it

And pecked their beaks against it

But it remained a stone, a magic stone

Til one day the witch returned to reclaim it

She took it up in the middle of the night 

Under an oak tree and wept for her long lost lover whom she

knew not where he was but was off adventuring some place

And all the people who had touched the stone passed on

and talked to another

And somehow they passed this magical story on

As they spoke or shook hands with others

There was the look in the eye as if something passed between them

Something unknown and unspoken

Yet still there was a feeling and this sense

That they were searching out this unknown man

and his whereabouts - Have you seen him?

Their look seemed to ask

Though it was so quick that not much could be done

Yet even though it was quick it passed on to the next

and then the next, and then the next in succession

Until handshakes all around the world were shook

And greetings and meeting eyes exchanged their glances

Until at last one of the handshakes shook the hand of the missing man

The missing lover

He was a great northpole explorer who had given up his hiking shoes

To return to life in Cambodia

He was fishing now on the sea

And he shook hands with a traveller from America

It seemed

Who had frequented the bar where he dropped in

On the beach side

Called the Cambodia Inn

And he laughed to see him there

And he shook his long black hair

And the black cats stared at him

As black cats do, who know that

Witches wishes come true

And they are wise in their ways, 

and in their treading paths

And they say this Cambodian cat can see

with two eyes in to the Siamese sunrise

And the fisherman now who was really the long lost lover

Looked into the eyes of the man who said

Have you seen him?

Seen who he asked outright

Seen the witch's missing lover

The witch's missing lover it rang a bell

That once he had loved a woman

and had fallen under her spell

long, long ago, and he could tell

That this was perhaps the very same woman

Yes he said it is I, I did not realise she was a witch

I did not realise what I had lost when I did switch

Somehow I betrayed her love to leave for my own adventuring life

For I wished to reach the Northpole and to explore many regions of the

world unknown

I wished for fame and glory and yet it cost my soul

Well the witch wants you back

Said the American

The witch wants me back?! How could I , how can I go back now?

And yes he said well what will you do now?

But before he asked the question,

He knew he must find the witch

Or that the witch now knew his whereabouts

For she had enchanted the stone

And somehow this news would travel back

Through all the black cats she had known in the past

Through their eyes and their looks

And their walks upon the wall

And they would come back and deliver her

Her lover and all, deliver her lover and all

So gradually when the American left the explorer

Whose name was Nathan

He passed back and saw the people in his hotel

And they said who have you seen?

I've seen the lover, the long lost lover. 

And he passed this news on with a shake of the hand

and a look of his eye to his other travelling companions

and they went their separate ways

And both shook and looked and took and gave

Their glances and

took their chances and had romances

all the way to France's shores from Cambodia

All across the Asian continent

All across the Russian Steps and up into the Scottish Highlands

Where the magical stone slept

Until they touched the stone again

And it turned

it turned over on itself

And began to spin, and began to shine

And then began to bleed

Like a lonely heart into the soil

And turned it red

And when the witch was passing next

She saw around the stone that bled

The blood of the love that was lost

Her own blood for the stone 

Was her heart you see

And he saw her heart was bleeding

Under the oak tree on the hill

And she picked it up

And put it back inside her chest

And said

I'll keep the blood flowing through me

For my blood is blessed

And I'll show the way into the light

The light of loveliness

And so went, and so we went, and so

We went and we went

And the woman came back

And the man returned

For he had lost and he had learned

That losing love is like being burned

And soon he would know that hell hath no fury

Like a woman scorned

And so he came into the Isles

Of Britain with its smiles

And with opening arms, it welcomed him back

And sure enough the charms

They jacked and saw him off, and saw him in

On the boats where he sailed

Within

And said to them

Now what is this?

I am in search of the witch

Who cast a spell and I knew well

I found no log to slumber under

She asked me to return a while

And so I did, and so I did

And in the moon light the witch now

Flew upon her broom

And the wind that grew into a gale

and flew and flailed at her sides

But she held on for she was strong

And she threw, and she threw

love down there, and she threw it

in his hair

This dust that dropped

This magic pixie dust

that fell from the sky 

like starlight

And it landed upon the travelling man who was

wandering there without a plan

Except what the black cats told him

Which was to travel North

until it enfolds him in the clouds and the swirling sky

And above he felt the star dust lie

Upon his brow

Upon his head

He looked around and then he said

Is that you my long lost lover?

My witch queen who I discovered

Is that you who love ago told me

I her heart had stole

And that I would forgo the love

If I went my own way

She said yes it's me

Who you betrayed

And my heart it bleeds almost everyday

For it was stone but now its blood

And perhaps there is life after the flood

For tears have welled up and the rivers run dry

And perhaps the blood of life cannot die

And suddenly the love was given to him

And she flew like a bird on the wing

And picked him up

Upon her broom stick

And they sailed away 

into the moon's ocean play

As it rolled on through swirling clouds above

And they kissed in the sky

And they made love

As only a witch can do

On the fourth day of June

After a new moon

And Soon it will be

A midsummer's day

And you will still see them

Up there in play

The lovers swoon

Under the moon

They say

They say

Yes the lovers swoon 

Under the moon

They say

Rapunzel and Todd

 He worked at Rapunzel Hair and Beauty Salon

They did the longest braids and hair extensions

That were ever known

The hairdressers Salon was at the very top

Of a tall tower in the middle of a forest

An unusual place for a hairdressers you may ask,

But as for that I cannot say

Only that a gentleman barber was passing that way

A travelling barber they say from Seville

Sweeney Todd, Michael Wood or it could have been Brazil

But either way he saw his chance and went in for the kill

May I present to you myself

A barber of exceptional skill

Just off the shelf, the shampooed elf

Cut a striking figure of thrill

Rapunzel said how could you dare

To cut off my locks

There's more locked up in your hair

Though it may come as quite a shock

Like Samson, that is where your strength

Lies in strands as long as wise

And I'd offer them as extensions

To those dim witted or passing ill

I think your locks would make a fool wise

Make a weak woman strong

In your strands so to speak

Is the strength of old Babylon

Sky train

 Starlink,

Star train

Riding on a light beam

X-box Vox-pox

Hiding out in 99

diamond necklace

String of pearls

Wrapping round this old world

Try to cover try to place

Each and every lover

In the human race

We never fail to see God's face

Yet it is only a reflected grace

Starlight express, answer me yes

I'm ready to climb aboard

Father Christmas being pulled

By sixty reindeer in a train or 

Some kind of hoard

I thought it was the Russians with

A nuclear surprise

Then I believed it was the USA

Sending rockets into the sunrise

Blowing up the whole darned sun

The solar system and all within

But now I see They are going over Ukraine

I only wish they don't travel in vain

Travel by skytrain

Travel by sky train

A tale of two snails

Once upon a time there was a garden

And in the garden, there were lots of snails

all going about their business in a happy sort of way

And all of these snails had a right-hand twist in their shells

I say all, in fact that is a bit of a pork pie

Or a lie, if you like, for there was one unfortunate fellow named George

 

George was a snail who would have liked to have been like the other snails

But alas he was different

His shell wound in the other direction - it wound left

This meant as he was making his way up and down the garden path

Though he nodded his head and would even have liked to greet

Or shake hands with the other snails he was passing

Their heads and bodies seemed to be twisted away from him

If they did notice him at all, it was if they happened to see a passing bird 

over his head and behind him, 

so really it was an accident

 

George so much wanted to get to know the other snails that he went out

Sometimes to their local pub - the other snails called this the Jam Jar

It was where they all hung out, it was quite literally a jam jar

Sometimes they met in the Broken Mug or the Elder hollow

But whenever George tried to join them, he found

He couldn't get in; he had the wrong kind of shell you see

It wound in the wrong direction, they said he just wouldn't fit in

 

Anyway, time passed and the other snails he grew up around they

met other right-handed snails and started families

On a snail date the usual thing is to walk around-

Sorry slither around a bit and maybe climb up a stem or two

To get a better view of the garden, 

Then at a romantic viewing point they would get a little closer

Very close in most circumstances

But it was always important for the snails to ask each other first

If this was what they really wanted and were they aware this may lead to baby snails

And most important of all which one of us should be the boy snail and which the girl?

For you see snails spend their whole lives going around not bothering about

Whether they are a male snail or a female snail

The thought hardly crosses their mind

Not until they find another snail they rather like and would like to know a little better

And then once they have shaken hands and had a chat one of them must pop the question-

Boy or Girl?

So, you see snails are very open minded sorts of creatures.

 

Anyway, George or sometimes known as Georgina, depending on his mood

Had found another snail, let's call him Harold or Haroldina, depending on his mood

And they met outside the Jam Jar as George was sliding away

A little dejectedly

"Hey do you wanna slide with me?" Asked Harold or Haroldina

"Do I? Sure I do, let's get out of here", said George or Georgina

So the pair went off into the undergrowth together.

However, they weren't gone very long when Haroldina came sliding back out

Crying "Get away from me you freak! With your left-handed shell! And left-handed brain!

I don't know what I ever saw in you! Good night!"

George had only tried to shake Harold's hand

But you see he did it in such a strange way

That it would have never worked between them

They just weren't compatible, and Harold had turned away from him quickly.

 

George found the same thing with every other right hander he encountered

Since there were no other left handers,

George was alone in the world of the garden

Not only that but the snail "Garden Preservation Society of Traditional Snail Values and Ethics" 

decided to put up signs with pictures of a left-handed snail on them

And a big cross through it, this meant "No entry to lefties"

And "Keep out Left handers, go back to your own side of the garden!"

 

The problem was George felt he didn't really belong anywhere

He didn't have his own side of the garden

He only had himself. At last, it started raining and he could forget his woes and just hide inside home

And listen to the rain drops falling on his wicked shell

Was it really so bad?

He wished he never had it, or he could re-draw his spiral and straighten it out

And put it back on his back the 'right' way round.

 

But he knew this was useless and he must accept himself.

 

One bright sunny day the Entomologist Doctor Daddy long legs

Walked into the garden to visit his friend Mrs Cook

Who had baked him a nice cake? 

and they sat down outside in the garden and ate the cake and drank their cups of tea

 

All of a sudden Dr Daddy long leg looked down and there

Perched on the end of his shoe was a very unusual and interesting sort of snail

And this snail looked back at the entomologist in an interested sort of way 

"What have we here!?" The Dr said, "a very special snail I think Mrs Cook"

And he plucked George from off the end of his shoe

And put him in his lunch box,

You see George didn't know what to do, as he had never been in a lunch box before

And with someone name Mrs Cook nearby he was worried he might soon become lunch

He had heard of certain French Restaurants who were especially fond of eating snails like him,

Though maybe his bigger French Cousins were the unlucky ones.

 

Anyway, here he was in the lunch box 

when somebody dropped a leaf of lettuce in and he was happy as larry, 

if you could hear a snail laugh for joy then that would have been it

But it is very quiet you know, to our ears.

 

Unbeknownst to George, Dr Daddy long legs had examined his shell and came to a conclusion

"I think Mrs Cook that this snail maybe the only example of a left-handed snail I know of! Do you have any more in your garden?"

"Not that I know of Dr Longlegs, but you are welcome to have a sniff about, I've never really looked in so much detail at them."

"That I will Mrs Cook, thank you."

So Dr Long Legs spent the rest of the afternoon scouring Mr's Cooks garden searching for another instance of a left hander, but he never found one.

 

On the spot he asked Mrs Cook if she minded him keeping George for a while

Well I don't suppose he'll mind, no

So George was whisked away in the lunch box, quite happy to be escaping the garden he no longer felt was his home and where he wasn't welcomed

 

Well perhaps I'll meet some new snails outside of the garden wall, George thought to himself on the train journey back to Longleg's apartment.

 

Back in the garden, the other snails hadn't really noticed George's abduction by the Giant Bipods as they called them, or clumsyfeet sometimes. Only Harold wondered as he hadn't seen him skulking around the Jam jar for a few nights.

 

Back home long legs telephoned his friend and journalist Max Webber, well Max I think I have found it the hapax legomenon, the only example of a left-handed snail, it is like finding a four leafed clover!

Are you sure? Asked Max, well in that case the poor fellow's line will die out with him, as he won't be able to start a family with any other right handers.

Maybe there is a way said Longlegs. What if you put out an advert in your magazine and we called up the other media outlets, newspapers and the news and asked the public to send us their sightings or better still the real McCoy versions of left-handed snails. Then maybe he'd have a chance?

Mm, said Max

He needs a partner and a friend in this world. We must put out our feelers and put out a search letter and scour the whole of Great Britain for other left-handed snails, and if we can find them and invite them, then maybe George can have a family of his own one day. 

I don't like his chances, but perhaps we can make it happen, let's try our best and put an advert up in the paper.

So, they did just that. And once, they'd done it, it was remarkable. It did take several months, but then the first left-handed snail arrived who was very happy to shake hands with George. 

 

And here they were back in Mrs Cook’s garden again, and the entomologist had given them a special cordoned off area where only George and his special friend could stay. Her name was Henrietta, or sometimes Henry, depending on the mood.

 

And the right-handed snails had to look on enviously with their small garden mentality, they talked about them and spread rumours saying oh look at those two, once they start a family it will be the end for us all. What must they be up to?

 

So, George and Henry started a family and then there was a little left hander there as well. In fact, over the course of some years, George had helped make rather a lot of left handers, to the extent the entomologist had to give over half the garden to them.

Even more than this, readers of Max Webber's magazine - Snail Trails Monthly continued to send in their snail mail and to Webber's and Long legs great joy and surprise they received live left-handed snails all safe and alive, but a little shell-shocked from the royal mail snail delivery service.

Although this wasn't a plethora of snails or a panorama, it was in fact enough for George to keep making his own family.

So eventually George wasn't alone in the world anymore. They lived in this section of the garden, but soon they began to wonder what was outside of the garden wall and so George led his family a bit like Moses out of the garden.

So that is just what they did in a great exodus of left-handed snails who crossed over the border and searched out a new world to live in.

Some stayed behind, because they liked the garden. George was one of those who wanted to explore, he'd always wanted to explore his whole life, perhaps because he didn't feel welcome in the right-hand side of the garden. After many years of travelling and starting different families, like starting new businesses up, George returned back to his old garden, and he saw to his great surprise that the left-handed snails and the right-handed snails were living together quite peaceably in harmony. And he felt such great joy when he could see that they could all live together happily, and he went and joined them in the Jam jar, and they had a right old time chatting about things he had seen outside of the garden wall. 

Snail tale

 In the garden,

There was a government of snails

And the government said,

There can only be right handed (twist) snails

Whose shells wind in the right handed way

If there are any left handed snails here

Kick them out of the garden

Keep them outside of the fence

And throw them out of the gate

May they never come back in

If they must be here, they must be hidden

For they are an abomination of nature

And so George wandered around, or rather slithered around

because he was a snail, quite aimlessly

And he couldn't properly talk to other snails

They were always a little too distant from him

And therefore he found it very difficult to get on

And it was like driving a bus

When two bus drivers pass eachother on opposite sides of the street

But they can't talk to eachother because they are seated on the wrong side of the bus.

You see we're not all the same,

We're not all symmetrical or we're not all perfect

Some of us are right handed and some of us are left handed

And we can't all be the same, but generally in fact always

The right handed snails could only start families with other right handed snails

Because they liked the direction

And it just meant everything together between them worked better

The thing is there were also the sort of snails who were left-handed in the world

And even outside of the garden where George had been born

It's just he didn't know it.

So for now he slithered around and tried to avoid

Eye contact with the other snails 

Who all shunned him and he felt like a pariah

He was stuck on the wrong side of the fence

So as I was saying, the other snails started to put up signs as well

with a big snail on it, like a left handed snail whose shell twisted the wrong way

and a big cross over it and they said, no he's not allowed in here

Sometimes there were these jam jars left in the garden

And the snails all liked to congregate in them and all have chats

and be very socialable, except when they saw George coming

They all turned their shells and ganged up on him so he couldn't get in

And it was very difficult for him.

One day a friendly snailogist or entomologist - one who studies insects and molluscs - which is what a snail is - Dr Daddy Longlegs

was wandering about the neighbourhood

He decided to go and see his friend Mrs Cook who had just baked a lovely cake for him

and her other friends

Mrs Cook and he were sitting outside in the garden having a cup of tea and enjoying the sunshine.

When the entomologist looked down and saw upon his shoe an interesting looking snail

Who was looking up at him in an interesting sort of manner.

Cocking his head to one side and extending his eyeballs out on their storks

And he said to himself, that's strange that seems like 

The most unusual snail I've ever seen  in my life

And he picked up the snail from off his shoe and put it in his lunch box 

And in his lunch box he took a closer look and could see that his shell

Had wound the wrong way, it had gone left instead of right

He started to look about the garden and tried to find some other snails

"Do you know that in your garden", he said, "it is full of right handed snails and

This one snail here, who I think I shall name George is actually a left handed snail?"

"How unusual", said Mrs Cook, "what does it mean Dr Daddy Long Legs?"

"Well what it means is that this poor chap unfortunately doesn't have any friends

And he won't be able to have a family with anyother kind of snail

Unless they be lefthanded snails"

So tragically that was the end for poor George

Or so he thought as he listened

So what the Entomologist did then, was he took George with him

And took a photograph and said to his friend the journalist Max Webber

Look what we have here is a very special snail

So special indeed that there may only be one of his kind in the entire country!

"How incredible!" said Max the journalist!

But if it is that would make it the Hapax Legomenon

Do you mean the Happy Legomen's mum?

No the Hapax Legomenon, it's the only instance of something

Well the fact is this snail, he needs a partner and a friend in this world

So we must put out a search and scour the whole of Great Britain for other left-handed snails

And if we can find them then maybe George can have a family of his own one day

Well I don't like the sound of his chances, but perhaps I can help, said Max

We can put an advert up in my paper!

And so they did just that

And once they'd done it

It was remarkable

It did take several months

But then the first left handed snail arrived through the post

Who was very happy to shake hands with George

And here they were up in Mrs Cook's garden again,

After Daddy Longlegs had brought them back and put them in a 

Special cordoned off area where only George and his friend could stay

And the right handed snails had to look on enviously

And talking and spreading rumours about them saying

Things like oh look at those two

What are they doing in there

And so George and his friend actually started a family

And then there was another left-handed snail who was their baby

Which was remarkable

In fact over the course of some years

Even more readers of Max Webber's magazine Snail Trails Monthly

Were sending in their snail mail

And in the post little boxes Dr Daddy Long legs discovered

To his great Joy and surprise that they were sending in Left Handed snails

Now even though this wasn't a plethora of snails

Or indeed a panorama, it was  in fact enough for George to keep making his own families

And so eventually George wasn't alone in the world anymore

They lived in this little section of the garden

But soon interest grew in the outside world

And they thought perhaps these snails

Could live outside of the garden too

And so that is just what they did

It was a great exodus of left handed snails who crossed over the border 

And searched out a new world to live in.

Some stayed behind because they liked the garden

George was one of those who wanted to explore

He'd always wanted to explore his whole life

Perhaps because he didn't feel welcome in the right handed side of the garden

Eventually after many years of travelling and starting different families

A bit like starting new businesses up George retruned back his first garden

And he saw to his great surprise that the left handed snails and the right handed snails

Were living together quite peacably

In harmony and it was such a great joy when he could see they could all live together happily

And he went and joined them in the jam jar and they had a right old time

Chatting about life and the things that he had seen outside of the garden wall