Inspiring work

 The steeple jack came

What work are you in?

I'm in spires, 

oh how inspiring, I'm an aspiring steeplejack you know

Oh really? What line of work are you in?

I'm a roofer, I only do flat roofs,, but I need to branch out

Extend my self

It's about the elevation, 

well only do it if you're inclined

Oh I am inclined, very much inclined

I look up at the church roof and think

That tower needs something

Oh and I don't mean cornices or more gargoyles, no sir

It needs a little je ne sai qua

A spire?

Exactly

A spire to reach to the stars

To touch God's hand

Well let's not get carried away

Say are you busy these days?

Well, I'm running from one spire to another near enough

Oh a steeplechase?

You could say

Well I know of a church, the damn spire just fell off

Crack and came spiralling down

Caught a parishioner totally unawares

Mrs Beeching , terrible thing

She never did have a head for heights

always afraid to climb the tower's spiral staircase

and Now she has spire for a head

Not very inspiring, 

She has a steeple through her temples

She finally got the point

Unfortunately it struck her too late

Well the thing is the cockerel hit her first

She heard this whirring

And the weather vein span down like a helicopter

It had fallen off

North, South, East or West, it kept spinning

She was dizzy with which way the wind was blowing

Then?

A golden hen, finally came home to roost

Well you should be careful not to keep all your eggs in one basket

My dear man it was a cockerel, not a chicken, a golden cockerel

My wife is into cocks too,

I beg your pardon? Cock-a-toos?

No cockerels, the weather veins

She paints them, gold leaf you see, we do a double act

I take em off their high perch, and she gives

Them a new lease of life

That's rather gilding the lily isn't it?

Well, it's rather gilding the cock

Ah the man with the golden gun

Oh your veins are so glorious I see

weather they are or Whether they are not

Is not for me to say

She's the weather-woman 

and I'm the steeple jack

Actually Perry the stone mason is my name

Though I'm also into flying buttresses

And my wife is Jemima the gold leaf artist

She's up at the crack of dawn, painting cockerels like the sun

So you are into butts and your wife is into cocks

Well good day to you sir!

Lads

 Come my lads in the train yard

You're not yet in the graveyard

Come my tame lads 

Who work in the tanyard

Come my lame dads

Who shirk in frame yard

Come free my dray cart

Take my load off homeward

Comfort and mirth lads

Down in the valley with the pub landlord

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

 We are the strawberry line volunteers

We are the strawberry line volunteers

We push and pull the plough

We don't know quite where but we know how

We are the strawberry line volunteers

Oh we are chugging our way to Clevedon

All the way across the waves of the Mendips

All the way we shall lead them up and down

Like the sand dunes we shall weave them

Like side winders through the deserts we shall wind

And dig and hack and bind, and together navigate

and follow the old grate

Until we reach the tunnels we shall find

we are the Strawberry line volunteers

We haul on the the rope and yet ready for the smokes

Going and having hope enough for years

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

we're following the track that disappears

We'll uncover the truth and reveal what we find

There'll be the proof of what we've left behind

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

We come together with our eyes and ears

We'll put our heads together, we'll bend upon our knees

and any kinds of weather we'll sing our railway shanties

we are the Strawberry line volunteers

Sweet as cherry wine that runs clear

Or as the fruit divine that hangs on Mendip's climbs

We shall be as rosy through our years

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

Everything in our path we will clear

Noting down the squirrels the badgers and the rats

And even if we have quarrels we are better after that

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

Don't put us down or lose good cheer

We have nothing to fear, but a lack of Strawberry beer

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

Take away your dark days of winter

We will push them out like a splinter

And become stronger even keener

To finish our great task

And drop down time's mask 

from the railways line that runs clear

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

Don't put us in a box or even box our ears

You cannot out fox us when it comes to

pathway clearances

So you know just who to call and when

You have a road which winds this way and then

You may have lost your compass

In a haystack it was done

But be sure you'll thump us 

and miss us when we're gone

So let us finish off our song

We hope you've enjoyed singing along

And if you care to join us

Then don't be afraid to coin us

For we are the Strawberry line volunteers

work in progress

 I've got to tell you about how it came about

The nails were clawing

And the claw hammer did shout

On the snare drum appalling

The singers voice was flat

Then flouting indifference

In a hat after that

I must also mention he loved me

She said

The wood in the garden

Lawn mower in the shed

The eyes of an eagle circled above

But the property ladder was a

Tight fitting glove

Stair way to heaven

And a staircase in Clevedon

And Portishead predicted

The slow rebirth

The steamers were steaming

Ferries crossed the Severn

Chains were hauled by dockers

Jesus, was never mothballed

 A moth flew into the bath

It buzzed and it fuzzed and it made me

Laugh

except it began doing backstroke between my legs

And so I lifted it up in my palm

Like god's avenging hand

And served justice

to the dying man

But it

Always reached towards the light

And that is why I saved it

So it could

Continue its flight