Back home

 Oh potatoes rotting

And this western town

Asses swaying and cussed pockets

The slamming of car doors rubber and metal

A humming 

That probably a good thing to do when its not a very nice day

No I am not saying that there is an Egyptian living down stairs

But she sure worships that dog man

Dogman or mandog,

I am not even sure if he isn't a doggod

 God dog it, I mean dagnam it or man dag it

She has got all men out of her life except Him

And the tree next door is in blossom, well it is hanging its fruits

It is near mid July

And the pollen is high 

and its scent wafts through my window

The sun is long in the sky 

and hangs there mellow

Like it is sad to go down

And put an end to all this beauty

this summer of loving

Oh now I'm getting carried away in sentiment

The runner jogs on 

Another car passes

The martial arts combatants leave for the evening

After beating themselves up and each other

In the gym

In the dance hall of horrors

So much like a timeless

Beating box 

that is incessantly drummed with the

pounding and tapping of feet - little and large

the footprints stay there.

This is the third age of man

The forties

I am back on home turf,

Although not totally home

It is now quickly becoming my home

I am sinking back into British life

and it is absorbing me

It is beautiful this time of year

The pigeons or crows flap in the boughs

And rearrange their positions I suppose

 

don't give up

Don't give up
For you are loved
Across the plain, the field

Don't give up
Lift on wings of a dove
Its just the way that you feel

These wheels keep on turning
The seasons keep returning
The world resolves
And our problems are solved
By day turning into dark
From the dark you must come out into light


Don't give up
Every breath must be a fight
Every day a struggle against death
Tell death to fuck off
Don't give up
Don't give up

All things pass
The summer wine
In the glass
Soon must be supped
But cast your net
Feel the sea sway
Hold tight the mast
In the storm
The new day will bring
Peace of mind

The tune to sing

Where are the tunes
That I heard you sing?
Summer comes down the street
Birdies tweet in the tree
Where are those tunes
I used to hear you sing?

Ah they're coming back
On the tide
On the new sun rising
They are the silver lining
Of the clouds on my horizon
And I can hear you sing

Well its two tunes for my life
One for my money one for my wife
And I know its funny honey
You can still sing that tune for me

Timpani no more

 How do you do?

Are you in the soup too?

How does it feel to be me?

Well how does it feel to be you?

Are you waking up sideways with your head in a cupboard

Are your ears like an attic

Where bats are recovered

Do you sweep cobwebs or webcobs

Do you chew tobacco sweet stacco

Are you stuck in the middle bracket

Income packet,

Under the living wage, or between the lines

On the living page

Of life's book

The devil's in the detail, but he lives to be on stage

And who should know better

Than the deep blue sea

Who could know better than you and me?

The words I wished I had written were caught in the trap

Of the unforgiven, and smitten, by folly, sore blades 

In sacks, holding a brolly to the the radio shack

And firing nicely the cannons' report

Oh reads the daily results on the sport

Slow tambres coming and an ice cream van

Calling out its sombre, sombrero lifespan

Its always summer in the north pole

And he will serve your soul flakey

Or dipped in petrol

And lice are crawling up the road

Carrying icicles of pericles

And shoulders of pork are still to be cured

But legs of lamb have been broken

If ever softly heard

Summer's bird

 I saw you lost your throne of stone

I saw your crown was broke

And in amongst the daisy chains

Was where the blackbird spoke

Saying I lost you in the morning

I lost you in the spring

And the fourth time I was calling

You came home to me again

For the cross was born in the winter

And the tides rose up in field

And we all feel so brave on the short summer waves

When the heat is our only meal

brief time

 I'm telling you the truth

Of the birds who sit and squark

And the colour of the chalk left

By the blackboard

If it was green or was it pink

Oh the submarine did sink

Below the waves of memory

That wash up on the shore

I'm telling you the truth of what I speak

Some days we were strong, on some weak

But we were children then

Running through the thick

Glory days of youth's summer

And on some of those hedgerows

Where the dinosaurs grow

Next to the graveyard wall

To remind us all

That time is brief

And life is short

Though back then time was sport

Life is short

Life is short

It looks out to the left

Is it right?

 Can you tell me, can you tell me

Can you tell me

Is it right

That the things which had been sworn

Keep you up late at night

And is it like a unicorn, moving so magical and bright

Across the favoured summer's lawn

Oh it keeps me awake at night

And is it right that the blacks

Have lost their rights

Is it right that the blues go down Madison's loos

Is it right

In the ailing ships that sway at bay

And is it right that my stopped clock

Is still right twice a day

Tell me in the graveyards

Who has brought the corn?

And scattered over the dead corpses

So that they might be reborn?

Tell will they get up and walk around til dawn

Oh tell me, tell me, tell me is it right?

Is it right that the plague comes and knocks upon my door

While it leaves my neighbour alone,

Makes me want to settle the score

Oh we are all alone before the accounts of the Lord

But I know I can't lift this millstone

That hangs around my neck any more

Tell me oh tell me, tell me is it right?

Oh tell me , tell me,

What keeps you tossing in your bed at night

Is it that you are lonely, is it that your dove has flown

Or is it only that your afraid of the unknown

And who should come and turn on your light

Well follow her to the aquifer and bleed that stone tonight

Tell me oh tell me, tell me is it right

That the blood hurts but what's worse is 

You don't even care

And of course I curse, of course I nurse

A kind of self-mocking despair 

But what's worse is I can see the hearse

Cannot park anywhere!

Tell me oh tell me, tell me is it right

That the carnival of animals

Are on the road tonight

That we all see a vacant sign

When there's someone in there

But she can't get out, and he starts to shout

That there's a human whose soul is laid bare

Or is made out of fresh air?