Oh the church bells chime
As the tap dancers clap
Foot against pine
In the old methodist hall
And the old piano drops
Pounding notes that fall
Like hammers down a well
Oh the Rhyme and reason of it all
What, where how and why
Of Christian beliefs or
Children who try
To dance in time to the teacher's call
Oh how we try, we do not sigh
The rhyme and reason of it all
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
The money we had and money we spent
The money, the money anyway
The money had come, and money did go
And the funny thing was on with the show
Oh on with the show, while the money does last
When the money gets thin, the money shall blast
Away all your hopes and your dreams in the clay
Oh the money did come and it went away
I am reaching for money, I am reaching for hope and glory
I am reaching in the pot of honey, at the end of the rainbow
Oh the money did come and the money did go
And the money never lasted so on with the show
And some people put the money above all
And some people reach and others they fall
Money, money, money and the castles of sand
That fall to the shore when the waves crash and land
Money is a bitch and money is a beach,
And money is funny and so out of reach
Money comes and goes, just like the passing ships
Money is rich, money it skips
Money it plays, plays down the land
It plays in the rich, the rich fat hand
It falls from the sky, like manna of gold
It falls like the sunlight falls in the folds
Somethings it stays on, and somewhere it goes
Money it comes and money it goes
I want to be an artist and paint its portrait
I don't know if it'd be an ugly man of hate
It don't know if it'd be an innocent child
Who knows not what it does to the world and the wild
Money it should be put behind bars
It should be banned, like speeding cars
But money it will live on, long after I die
Money it comes, falls out of the sky
Some are rich and some are poor
And some want to fly and some want no more
Some have enough, and some don't have any
And some count on love, while others count the pennies
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Don't you pull the wool over my eyes
I can tell a wolf from a sheep
And to me it comes as no surprise
To find you're not little Bo Peep
But a scud missile from the skies
Oh the castle keep is seized
And the sheep fold it is rustled
And the mast of the ship is leased
To the Captain who is puzzled
And I follow but I keep
My head away from flies
And I am still among the sheep
Sleep walking in Western lies
In all but one of the cases
I have run out of spaces
And parked my teeth
Into the coconut shies
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I was down on my luck
I thought I was a goner
I was going down hill
Like a runaway truck
I took out my dollar bill
And looked through the honour
Just then I saw a rainbow
And the sun shone through
The fires on the mountain were smoking
The smoke clouds blocking my vision
And the in and out of the country scout
Burned my ears with his joking
I sunk down on my knees in derision
I thought it all was doom and gloom
And then I saw a rainbow
And the sun shone through
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
What's the weather like?
What's the weather like?
How you doing?
What's the weather?
I bought a new car,
No you didn't
Yeah I bought a new car
It's a Nissan
No you didn't
Yes I did
What's it like then?
Quite good.
How's your cat?
Yeah she's well
How's your cat?
Yeah I just said she's swell
No you said she's well.
Yeah and what's your problem?
Well that's no kind of answer... for a cat!
I mean she could be better I suppose, she seems pretty happy
all in all, she sleeps a lot.. Look,why so many questions?
It's called small talk
Oh cool, I'm down with that..
Are you? Because you don't seem that good at it?
I just need practice that's all.
Ask me something then?
How's the family?
Oh yeah, they're fine
That's nice.
Yeah it is, look what time does this meeting start?
5 minutes.
Oh God 5 minutes, look sorry I've got to go and make a cuppa, I'll be back.
Sure, no problem, leave me just like that.
Look we're just chatting, aren't we?
No we're making small talk, nothing's more important than that!
Oh I see, I didn't realize you felt like that about it.
Well I do.
Ok I won't leave you pal, no worries.
Ok thanks.
How's the weather there then?
Look sorry I've a call on the other line, I'll call you back.
Ok no worries, see you later.
Yeah, uh huh...
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
I long for the mountains
Where the grizzly bears roam
Where there's wood on the fire
And a path made of stone
Oh I long for the mountains
The mountains of home
Where the wood chucks twitter
And call out in tin tones
Where the miner's gold glitters
in the pans full of loam
Oh I long for the mountains
The mountains of home
I long for the mountains
where the fountains they shiver
And you drink up the water foam
Where the trees stand and quiver
And the leaves they shimmer like chrome
I long for the mountains of home
Where there's snow on the caps
And there's ice in the stream
And you know all the maps
And the mice all look keen
On the mountain, where the grizzly bears
roam
I long for the mountains, the mountains of home
Where the kettle's on the fire
And the metals in the ground
And the beef is on the wire
And the moles are in the mound
I long for the mountains
The mountains of home
Where the dogs in the yard
And it's chasing the cat
Where the hogs looking hard
At the man in the hat
And the child's a sleep under the piano
I long for the mountains
The mountains of home
Where the wind whispers softly
Through the trees on the river
Where the father of time
He cries stand and deliver
And all of the pines beside they quiver
Oh I long for the mountains
The mountains of home
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.