Arriving and becoming

 The babies fly into arrivals,

And they met the expecting mothers there

They were holding their names up

On placards with all due motherly care

Then the elderly shuffled off to departures

In a state of eternal becoming

And death flew the plane from gate number eight

And piloted it then to the humming

And the businessmen and women

Sat in the lounges of purgatory

Oh it's all just arriving and becoming and going

Departing and flying, and humming and ho-ing 

And it was all at the airport of becoming and going

Arriving and staying home homing

The fathers in the bars and in the shops

The woman looks at bras where she stops

Glass vases and confectionary delectable, 

confetti, chocolates and collectables, 

And duty free bargains play hop scotch

It's just a stone's throw away until you stop

In the airport of becoming and stop watch 

What do you call the men who carry the baggage?

The luggage carriers? No they throw the bags

On the plane. He -throw- She-throw, we all throw up

Sick bag, pick a bag and show us when we stop

But it's all in the bag, by the time the corn pops

Pop tart, Racal Thorn, EMI in the pop chart's top

Top hat, hot tap in the ladies toilets 

Choose to be thing you've been even if you spoil it

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

In the departures lounge, your future

Is written on the clouds

In the lacuna where the sun breaks through

SHOULD YOU SHOULDN’T YOU SONG/BAD HABIT, GOOD HABIT SONG

 SHOULD YOU WASH YOUR HANDS AFTER PLAYING FOOTBALL?

YES I SHOULD WASH MY HANDS AFTER PLAYING FOOTBALL.

SHOULD YOU SHARE A DRINKING STRAW WITH YOUR FRIENDS?

NO, I SHOULDN'T SHARE A DRINKING STRAW WITH MY FRIENDS.

IT’S A BAD HABIT, IT’S A BAD HABIT. NOT A GOOD HABIT

SHOULD YOU COVER YOUR NOSE WITH A TISSUE WHILE SNEEZING?

YES, I SHOULD COVER MY NOSE WITH A TISSUE WHILE SNEEZING,

IT’S A GOOD HABIT, IT’S A GOOD HABIT, IT’S NOT A BAD HABIT,

SHOULD YOU LITTER A PICNIC SPOT?

NO, I SHOULDN’T LITTER A PICNIC SPOT, IT’S A BAD HABIT

IT’S A BAD HABIT, NOT A GOOD HABIT, IT’S A BAD HABIT

SHOULD YOU EAT AN APPLE WHILE PLAYING WITH A PET DOG

WELL, LET ME THINK ABOUT THAT, EATING AN APPLE IS GOOD,

BUT NOT WHILE PLAYING WITH A PET DOG, NO IT’S A BAD HABIT

THAT’S WHAT I SAID, IT’S A BAD HABIT, NOT A GOOD HABBIT

IT’S A BAD HABIT YOU BETTER STOP IT NOW

IT’S A BAD HABIT, LIKE CHASING COWS

IT’S LIKE A RUNAWAY RABBIT, IT’S A BAD HABIT

BATHROOM SONG

WHAT DO YOU USE TO WASH YOUR HANDS IN THE BATHROOM?

I USE SOAP TO WASH MY HANDS IN THE BATHROOM

WHAT DO YOU USE TO CLEAN YOUR TEETH IN THE BATHROOM?

I USE THE TOOTHBRUSH TO CLEAN MY TEETH, IN THE BATHROOM

OH THE BATHROOM IS THE PLACE I GO

OH THE BATHROOM IS THE PLACE I KNOW

IT’S A BATH IN A ROOM IT’S THE BATHROOM

WHAT DO YOU USE TO DRY YOURSELF IN THE BATHROOM?

I USE THE TOWEL TO DRY MYSELF, IN THE BATHROOM

WHAT DO YOU USE TO COMB YOUR HAIR IN THE BATHROOM?

I USE THE COMB TO BRUSH MY HAIR IN THE BATHROOM

OH THE BATHROOM IS THE PLACE I GO

OH THE BATHROOM IS THE PLACE I KNOW

IT’S A BATH IN A ROOM IT’S THE BATHROOM

Strawberry lines

 Sharpen the billhooks and rev up the saws

Slash the nettles and bend the stalks

That's what we do in the Great Outdoors.

burn the brash with our pitchforks

 

Cut down the vine and stamp on the stump

Break up the stone with a sledgehammer

Pull up the roots and on bare earth thump

Ram in the fence post with a post rammer

 

Raze the old tree, fell it to the ground

Hack with pick axe and with mattock pound

Then when you’ve dug plant a sapling sound

Keep filling with saplings all the holes around

For that’s what we do in the Great Outdoors!

So sharpen the billhooks and rev up the saws

 

Strawberry liners

 

Sharpen the billhooks and rev up the saws

Slash the nettles and bend the stalks

That's what we do in the great outdoors

burn the brash and pitch in with our forks

Cut down the vine and stamp on the stump

Break up the stone with a sledgehammer

Pull up the roots and on bare earth thump

That's what we do in the great outdoors

Hack at the trunks and call the Jackdaws

Raise that old tree trunk, fell it to the ground

Mash up the muddy swamp and flash up the sound

The railway rations are coming back into fashion

That’s the Strawberry line volunteer’s passion

We are the Strawberry line volunteers

We'll be glad if you can lend us your ears

And listen to our song

It won't last for very long

4 hours of work a day on all fours

Crow the shrill rooks and caw the Jackdaws

That’s the Strawberry line volunteers outdoors

 

 

Bring up the dilapidated ruins of rails

Resurrect those uninhabited homes for the snails

Pull up old fence posts cut off barbed wire

And throw it all on top of our burning fire

 

4 hours of work, and nine of contemplation

Don’t sleep on the job for there’s no compensation

Lay down the runners let them have fun

Shine on Strawberry fields under the sun

 

  The railway line was bombed-out neglected

dog-eared and worn

Run down and scrubby, 

Moth eaten and brown

Hack at the trunks and scrape at the stone

Trudge through the mud up to shin bone

Break up the ice and burn all the brash

That’s what volunteers do on Shepton's mash

 

Run down the augurs and drill like thunder

Dig on dig on until you discover what’s under

The bed rock the stiff stock of railway stash

That’s what Strawberry liners do with your cash

 

 

Viaduct

 To the viaduct

Go walking

On the long wet rainy days

With your dog in the forking

Of the long hot summer hays

And Dripping with rememberance

Of a past now left behind

When railways and Steam engines

Crossed the valleys of our minds

And all the strawberries travelled and all the red currants

Too

Like blood and diamonds in parcels

From the mines of South African fruit

And the empty arches standing

As a door stop in our minds

Leaving open the door to the past

And passage way to a time 

before

Though we know it does not last

Duck Pond

 

Deep in the duck pond

Where the green weed grows

And the straw is yellow

Next to the track,

Where the ivy creeps beneath the Alder and Willow

Which brush their stems and stem their flow back

Deep in the duck pond

Where the green weed grows

Ducks fight and splash about

It could be a war or a turn about

Or a pair of lovers in a spate

One who loves, the other who hates

But deep in the duck pond

They see to their deed

Where the willow weeps in the green duck weed

Down in the duck pond,

Where fellows blow their horn

And the little spirited sprout

Sings for the sweet summer corn

While the West wind blows

Then across it the Easterly is torn

All along the deep duck pond

Where all the birds were born

Severed heads on severed spikes

All seem dead but go ask the tyke

Shadows shake in the shallows like

The deep duck pond

Of the bad old Pike

He swims about, he asks not twice

He sees a snout, then snaps his vice

And there he has you, pulls you down

Into the depths of the duck pond to drown

Where hell is a spirit on the water

And the wind chills the slender necks of swans

And the rails with the moor hens daughter

Falls to the pails and the sweet shorn sun

Where the kale sways in the shallows

And the bulrushes blow their seed

Deep as heartache over the water

Of the deep duck pond with the green duck weed